Let me tell you how my day is going. Its a holiday again, to celebrate the melon or something (tajikistan actually has a national holiday celebrating the damn melon).
The monsoons have come. My roof is leaking and my living room is flooded. The rains have unleashed a biblical horde of cockroaches. I have finished my last bottle of Mortein manning the barricades. The fort is under siege. I've inhaled more Mortein than all the cockroaches have (body count: 17! yes! I'm a lean, mean, killing machine) and as a result am hallucinating while I bail out my living room with a leaky bucket, battle the flu and rewrite the thirteenth draft of my personal statement. My boyfriend calls me during lunch (while I'm trying to write an essay explaining in detail how I'm going to save the world) with an angst-inducing conversation of how I am apparently too detached (me! What does he want? a parasite in his bloodstream?) in this sanity-defying twisted relationship that I am currently in. If I screw up this app process, I am going to be flying cargo planes full of rubber dogshit outta Hong Kong.
Yesterday I went to a Buddhist ashram in search of peace. While being actively ravaged by mosquitoes I attempted to meditate in an open garden under a bo tree. Sadly all I could think about was what to have for breakfast. On account of the elections and the rains, the shops have closed. I have no food. I have no Mortein. I have no oxygen. I have no life.
This is a call to arms. Go to the mattresses! I need some help. Over and out.
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