When I decided to go to graduate school, I had an idea in my head. I had (have) a passion for the cultures of India, for Indian language, and I wanted (want) to learn as much as I can. I want to be able to read a variety of books, take language courses, have intense and exciting debates and discussions with my colleagues, be able to converse and learn from my mentors in a community environment. When I went to to grad school, I was not thinking about pieces of paper or degrees. I was thinking about the chance to be in a community of people who were as interested in India as me, who got excited about culture, who wanted to learn languages. That was my goal, my goal was greater knowledge, a community of learners, not a piece of paper.
I am now in my second year of grad school, and reality is a far cry from my dreams of passionate learning. I cannot recall the last time I had a good discussion with anyone in my department about anything related to India, culture, or language. Discussion revolve around passing the qualifying exams, navigating professors, and weaseling your way to that Ph.D. We learn to "trust no one", play your cards right, and never reveal too much to anyone, hence they use it against you. Professors are not mentors, but an opposing chess team. You have to make the right moves, or you are out of the game. And once you begin to lose, you cannot redeem yourself. There is no learning process, you are seen as a static piece, a plastic pawn.
The only discussions I have about culture are with drunk people at parties. The only time I can discuss anthropology or theory (safely) is in the confines of my own home. Class discussion is not for learning or synthesis, it is for proving to the professor that you already know the "right" answer. And if you don't know the "right" answer, better not speak at all, because then you will soon be in check-mate, a lost cause in the graduate world.
Some may argue life is a game. Getting a job, for example, is all about playing the right cards. But one would think that Anthropologists, those who study culture and all it contains (ahem, as in everything) would be able to identify the structure of power and prestige the institute creates and understand it for what it is. But, that too is not the case. Professors gladly feed off the power they receive, and while students not wishing to be academics are looked down upon, they themselves seem to have little passion or interest in teaching. Rather, it is about proving their importance, their chance at the top after jumping through the hoops we go through now.
It reminds me a lot of the concept of the "Mother-in-Law" in Indian joint families. She was treated badly as a new daughter-in-law, so once she is old enough to have a daughter-in-law, its now her turn to torment someone else. Regardless of whether it is necessary or improves the situate, it continues to be done. It seems that how professors view their new lot. We must jump and dance, suffer what they suffered, prove ourselves through arduous quests and conquest. Only then are we true "academics". And to be an anthropologist, of course you MUST be an "academic".
So where to go and what to do? I began school with a passion and a love for learning more. I was excited and ready to read and discuss. But early on, I suppose, I made the wrong move, I showed the wrong cards. First and foremost, I was told that I "laugh too much". I didn't know laughing was a crime. This ruined my "Professional" appearance. I didn't know I couldn't be myself. And to make things Worse, I actually TOLD a professor that I was having a hard time in their class, and needed suggestions for catching up on material I had not yet been exposed to. This was the end for me. I was soon told I would be recommended for the "Masters" Program by the same professor. This may sound like a compliment, but if one knows about the world of graduate school, they know differently. If you are recommended for such a thing, this means that you are not seen as worthy of "Ph.D." work, you are lowly, you can't think properly, write well, or possibly last to write a dissertation. This is the way out. You are in check.
Mind you, this was decided about me perhaps after a month or so of grad school. I was already in check. And so began the end. As one professor talked with another, and down the line, I suddenly heard my name and "masters program" together. My funding disappeared. My fate is sealed. All before I even knew anyone professor well enough to trust and speak with them. And once you know that you are viewed negatively, as "hopeless" then well, what more can you do but try to protect the dignity you have left? At this point I am trying to preserve what I have, to hang on, and leave. I am afraid to make any moves at all. I am in check. One move and I could be check-mate.
It's amazing how knowing that others have already made negative judgments about you (and without even knowing you in any sense) can effect your success. Compare the opinions of me as a grad student to one in any other environment. I took Hindi in India this summer. Not only did my teachers enjoy that I "laugh too much" but I was actually taken aside and complimented. These teachers got a chance to know me, and came to see me as "someone who studies and works with a passion and happiness" that they found refreshing. The head teacher told me this. He informed me that all the teachers in the program had excellent things to say about me, and found the (happy, smiling) way I go about the world refreshing.
At work I have been complimented for being an excellent worker, for being able to complete my tasks fast and well, and so forth. Granted, by job is not rocket science, but all the same, my co-workers can see that I am hard-working and respect them.
Switch back to my life as a graduate student. None of my professors, not even my advisors seem interesting in conversing with me for longer than 5 minutes, they are too busy. I doubt any one knows basic things about me. I have never had a chance to have an intellectual discussion. I am seen as "unprofessional". I "laugh too much" (I didn't know enjoying life was a crime), and I apparently present some odd appearance to them. I feel like, if only they got to know and see the real me, to get past their assumptions about "graduate students" and what they should be, that maybe they could see I have potential. Maybe I am different, maybe I present myself in a different way. But I don't see anything wrong with laughing, or being passionate about what I study. I believe that helps me, not acts as a detriment to my education.
When I came to grad school, I didn't know what to expect. Since then I have learned a great deal in terms of learning about theories, organizing and writing, and so forth. I see much progress in my work. But still I am seen as exactly the same person as when I entered grad school. I am seen as someone who doesn't exist. The person they think constructed through their assumptions and cultural expectations, but never really got to know.
I don't buy into their system, I'm not here to play chess. I am here to learn. Maybe I don't conform to their rules about what a "graduate student" should think, feel, act, and say, but I have never conformed. It's not my way. And I don't see it as a negative. It's what makes me who I am.
I will get as much as I can out of here, in the time I have left. I may have no funding. I may be "master tracked" already, prejudged and sent down the line, but I won't let it stop me. My goal was to learn about what I am passionate about. That's still my plan. In whatever time I have left, that's what I'll do. I'm just not going to play chess.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Sunday, October 15, 2006
just another day
sitting around the house. Another saturday finished off... another week of work-class-homework to begin. i feel such a detachment from this place. Just want to get it overwith. I barely try to hang out with the few friends I have, prefering to stay indoors, reading or making myself new recipes. Alas. I don't know. I don't feel invested enough to try. A friend I had last year and I don't talk anymore. It's too bad, but I feel like it's not my fault. I feel like I only did what was fair. What else can I do?
Last night I went to a Garba (learning) night. It was really fun and I wish I could dance more often.. maybe take lessons... it would be fun.
My mom and sister visited last weekend. I was so excited for them to come.. but when they got here I got all grumpy and snappy. I don't know what my deal is...
What else? My week is basically working, class, reading, and watching one of my 5 tv channels. Weekends are usually doing the dishes i didnt do during the week, laundry, and homework. Sometime I go out for a bit, but I don't feel much like partying, and less like drinking. Then I have to watch the drunk people. They are somewhat amusing, and somewhat.. well... like that guy at the party before.. a disgusting guy....
nothing else much here...
Last night I went to a Garba (learning) night. It was really fun and I wish I could dance more often.. maybe take lessons... it would be fun.
My mom and sister visited last weekend. I was so excited for them to come.. but when they got here I got all grumpy and snappy. I don't know what my deal is...
What else? My week is basically working, class, reading, and watching one of my 5 tv channels. Weekends are usually doing the dishes i didnt do during the week, laundry, and homework. Sometime I go out for a bit, but I don't feel much like partying, and less like drinking. Then I have to watch the drunk people. They are somewhat amusing, and somewhat.. well... like that guy at the party before.. a disgusting guy....
nothing else much here...
Monday, September 25, 2006
pictures to share
Here are some pictures of India I thought I would share:
pigs runing about in Jaipur
Beautiful flowers in the hills of Jaipur
A Jaipur Fort
Roof of a Jaipur Fort
Next to the Taj Mahal.. the signs of tourism?
A boy watching his herd of Buffalo
Bras drying on a fence in the hillstation of Shimla
pigs runing about in Jaipur
Beautiful flowers in the hills of Jaipur
A Jaipur Fort
Roof of a Jaipur Fort
Next to the Taj Mahal.. the signs of tourism?
A boy watching his herd of Buffalo
Bras drying on a fence in the hillstation of ShimlaNew Study Shows America Causes Depression
Ever wonder why so many people in America have depression? I always did. So.. I did a little study. Trucked my arse off to India for three months. Sure, I was terribly sick with a baterial infection for a month. Sure it was blazing hot. But all in all, I was all smiles. OK. not ALL smiles, but I certainly was only unhappy for true real reasons. To follow up in this noted happiness, I trucked my arse BACK to the US (central NY.. oh dear).
Promptly, I noticed a lack of sunshine, and cold, rainy, dreary days., as well as a noticable lack of people. With that, a meloncholy began to grow inside me, and as now become what I call a full-blown "funk". In truth, things aren't incredibly different on the surface.. I am studying in both places, have friends, collegues, and roommates. Here I have my nice pets. So... what is the difference?
Maybe it's the soil, the air quality, or the lack of sunshine? Maybe it's the quiet isolation of the American world. ..or maybe it's just this country in general. This explains all of the depression and [over]medication going around this place. So, the conclusion of the study is that America causes depression. Perscription: move far far away.
Promptly, I noticed a lack of sunshine, and cold, rainy, dreary days., as well as a noticable lack of people. With that, a meloncholy began to grow inside me, and as now become what I call a full-blown "funk". In truth, things aren't incredibly different on the surface.. I am studying in both places, have friends, collegues, and roommates. Here I have my nice pets. So... what is the difference?
Maybe it's the soil, the air quality, or the lack of sunshine? Maybe it's the quiet isolation of the American world. ..or maybe it's just this country in general. This explains all of the depression and [over]medication going around this place. So, the conclusion of the study is that America causes depression. Perscription: move far far away.
far, far away
(and if you take this too seriously i'll smack you!)
(and if you take this too seriously i'll smack you!)
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
ode to a squat toilet
Jaipur is a very nice place, as long as you avoid the midday dhoop (sunshine). Dhoop is talked about like a snowstorm.. or rain.... "we shouldn't go out yet, there is dhoop"... it's best to do things in the morning and evening and hide inside somewhere during the strong dhoop. We have had two rain storms.. both beautiful, with strong winds, pouring rain, and even a bit hail. These storms cool down the world immediately. Delicious. The dhoop is not so bothersome after it rains... atleast for that day.
I am with a fellow AIIS participant staying at the Bhargava household, run by mom, who cooks cooks cooks. Dad goes out to work. Priyanka, 24, loves painting, embroidery, and other craftsy things. Shashank, 20, is studying hotel management and works all day until late at a hotel, where he met John Abraham the other night. John wanted chai. Our room is pink, with molding, two desks with beautiful cloth on them, and a happy, clean bathroom with sailboat tiles. The bathroom, like most indian bathrooms, has its oddities. If you turn on the left nozzle for the shower, the sink turns on.
But alas, the most trouble for us Americans is the squat toilet. At first, we regarded the squat toilet as a challenge... we felt we could do it.. we just needed to get more flexibility and muscle strength and we could beat the squat toilet into submission. This of course, did not happen. The squat toilet fought back. It won. As you squat, peeing, you realize.. pee is splashing everywhere... now... why would I want to pee in a way that causes urine to spatter on my feet and pants when I know I can pee differently and deposit said liquid solely in the toilet? A question to be mulled over. And secondly.. crapping onto he toilet.. well.. I have to hold onto the wall behind me.. and it just takes too long.. my arm gets tired, my legs get tired. I think back fondly to my western toilet, where I can sit relaxed, take my time, and even read a book. Not the case with the squat toilet... no amount of relaxation came to me squatting, only the fear I would fall over half way through.
The squat toilet.. we ask... what good do you bring us? Why use a squat toilet? What benefits does it bring. So, its true, I could not conquer the squat toilet, so I just sat down.
I am with a fellow AIIS participant staying at the Bhargava household, run by mom, who cooks cooks cooks. Dad goes out to work. Priyanka, 24, loves painting, embroidery, and other craftsy things. Shashank, 20, is studying hotel management and works all day until late at a hotel, where he met John Abraham the other night. John wanted chai. Our room is pink, with molding, two desks with beautiful cloth on them, and a happy, clean bathroom with sailboat tiles. The bathroom, like most indian bathrooms, has its oddities. If you turn on the left nozzle for the shower, the sink turns on.
But alas, the most trouble for us Americans is the squat toilet. At first, we regarded the squat toilet as a challenge... we felt we could do it.. we just needed to get more flexibility and muscle strength and we could beat the squat toilet into submission. This of course, did not happen. The squat toilet fought back. It won. As you squat, peeing, you realize.. pee is splashing everywhere... now... why would I want to pee in a way that causes urine to spatter on my feet and pants when I know I can pee differently and deposit said liquid solely in the toilet? A question to be mulled over. And secondly.. crapping onto he toilet.. well.. I have to hold onto the wall behind me.. and it just takes too long.. my arm gets tired, my legs get tired. I think back fondly to my western toilet, where I can sit relaxed, take my time, and even read a book. Not the case with the squat toilet... no amount of relaxation came to me squatting, only the fear I would fall over half way through.
The squat toilet.. we ask... what good do you bring us? Why use a squat toilet? What benefits does it bring. So, its true, I could not conquer the squat toilet, so I just sat down.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Mumbai Ahmi Style
So I am heading out of Bombay tomorrow. Got in on June 5th. Been here a couple of days, have had a great time hanging out with my good friend Nikhit, his awesome cousin Riya, and his bro Vinit. My luggage was left in Paris.. so I got to buy my self some new clothes, always exciting. Finally retrieved my luggage tonight after a long but fun day in downtown. YAY! deodorant!
It's starting the monsoon season, but just has rained a bit off and on, nothing torrential. Also we say X-Men 3 today, very good. What else? I don't know. Having a lot of fun here. Nikhit has a wonderful family, and I am sad to be leaving so soon- but, ONWARD-HO to Delhi. Tomorrow my flight goes, and I will be met by Disha's very good friend Su and taken to her hostel.. Then on the 8th we will meet Disha at the airport, and I will go meet her family.
Alrightie! I better be off and stop hogging the computer. More soon.
It's starting the monsoon season, but just has rained a bit off and on, nothing torrential. Also we say X-Men 3 today, very good. What else? I don't know. Having a lot of fun here. Nikhit has a wonderful family, and I am sad to be leaving so soon- but, ONWARD-HO to Delhi. Tomorrow my flight goes, and I will be met by Disha's very good friend Su and taken to her hostel.. Then on the 8th we will meet Disha at the airport, and I will go meet her family.
Alrightie! I better be off and stop hogging the computer. More soon.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
prr prrrr prrrrrrr CHOMP
Dear world,
Can someone please tell me what happened to my cat? Yes, he has always been a friendly, talkative type of kitty. But the past few days..... well... he is in overdrive. Follwoing me from room to room. Standing in front of my keyboard trying to LICK me while I type. Meowing. Meowing. Meowing. Coming outside when I walk the dog. Coming back inside when I finish walking the dog. Everywhere I go, his little kitty bell is tinkling as he follows me. When I am just sitting here, he will come up, and quietly put his paws on my arms, staring into my eyes. Begging to be pet. and pet somemore. I had to cut his nails just because when he put his paws oh so gently on me, his little nails still managed to jab me.
Why oh why has my kitty gone mad? His love is just too instense. How shall I manage?
Can someone please tell me what happened to my cat? Yes, he has always been a friendly, talkative type of kitty. But the past few days..... well... he is in overdrive. Follwoing me from room to room. Standing in front of my keyboard trying to LICK me while I type. Meowing. Meowing. Meowing. Coming outside when I walk the dog. Coming back inside when I finish walking the dog. Everywhere I go, his little kitty bell is tinkling as he follows me. When I am just sitting here, he will come up, and quietly put his paws on my arms, staring into my eyes. Begging to be pet. and pet somemore. I had to cut his nails just because when he put his paws oh so gently on me, his little nails still managed to jab me.
Why oh why has my kitty gone mad? His love is just too instense. How shall I manage?
Thursday, May 18, 2006
While we are on the topic of love...
How is it that I just discovered this song?
Bob Marley- Is this Love?
I wanna love you and treat you right;
I wanna love you every day and every night:
Well be together with a roof right over our heads;
Well share the shelter of my single bed;
Well share the same room, yeah! - for jah provide the bread.
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
I wanna know - wanna know - wanna know now!
I got to know - got to know - got to know now!
I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i - Im willing and able,
So I throw my cards on your table!
I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right;
I wanna love you every day and every night:
Well be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads;
Well share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed;
Well share the same room, yeah! - for jah provide the bread.
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
Wo-o-o-oah! oh yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now!
Yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now!
I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i - Im willing and able,
So I throw my cards on your table!
See: I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat ya -
Love and treat ya right.
I wanna love you every day and every night:
Well be together, with a roof right over our heads!
Well share the shelter of my single bed;
Well share the same room, yeah! jah provide the bread.
Well share the shelter of my single bed - /fadeout/
Bob Marley- Is this Love?
I wanna love you and treat you right;
I wanna love you every day and every night:
Well be together with a roof right over our heads;
Well share the shelter of my single bed;
Well share the same room, yeah! - for jah provide the bread.
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
I wanna know - wanna know - wanna know now!
I got to know - got to know - got to know now!
I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i - Im willing and able,
So I throw my cards on your table!
I wanna love you - I wanna love and treat - love and treat you right;
I wanna love you every day and every night:
Well be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads;
Well share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed;
Well share the same room, yeah! - for jah provide the bread.
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
Is this love - is this love - is this love -
Is this love that Im feelin?
Wo-o-o-oah! oh yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now!
Yes, I know; yes, I know - yes, I know now!
I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i - Im willing and able,
So I throw my cards on your table!
See: I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat ya -
Love and treat ya right.
I wanna love you every day and every night:
Well be together, with a roof right over our heads!
Well share the shelter of my single bed;
Well share the same room, yeah! jah provide the bread.
Well share the shelter of my single bed - /fadeout/
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Love
So, since I don't have any, I keep thinking about love lately.
And I was having 'profound ' thoughts, for me atleast. Love is two things. One thing is, love is that feeling, the giddy, going down a rollercoaster can't stop thinking about someone thing. The thing where you want to be around them all the time.
But it's something else too. It's a choice. You have to choose to love someone. To follow up with the feeling. If both people don't have both things.. Then it is nothing. The giddy feeling, without the choice to be with someone.. Is just a shallow feeling. The choice without the feeling is just a farce.
But also, that choice, the person has to know what they are choosing. That is why I am always a strong believer that one cannot truly know what love is until they have been hurt. When you make the choice to love someone, REALLY knowing how much pain it can cause you, and deciding that it is worth it anyways. That is really love. The feeling, the choice, and the knowledge of what pain you can receive from it. That is all part of love.
It's no wonder so many people avoid it ...
And I was having 'profound ' thoughts, for me atleast. Love is two things. One thing is, love is that feeling, the giddy, going down a rollercoaster can't stop thinking about someone thing. The thing where you want to be around them all the time.
But it's something else too. It's a choice. You have to choose to love someone. To follow up with the feeling. If both people don't have both things.. Then it is nothing. The giddy feeling, without the choice to be with someone.. Is just a shallow feeling. The choice without the feeling is just a farce.
But also, that choice, the person has to know what they are choosing. That is why I am always a strong believer that one cannot truly know what love is until they have been hurt. When you make the choice to love someone, REALLY knowing how much pain it can cause you, and deciding that it is worth it anyways. That is really love. The feeling, the choice, and the knowledge of what pain you can receive from it. That is all part of love.
It's no wonder so many people avoid it ...
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
SPCA response
So I got my SPCA response today, and I am feel like it is a cop out. Maybe. I mean... is leaving two dangerous animals chained to falling apart cars in a backyard fills with trash, feces, and broken stuff in the rain, night, cold, heat, etc legally ok? Additionally, is allowing your agressive pets to often get lose, who then attack nieghborhood dogs and try to attack people legally ok? Is every once and a while leaving the dogs in the basement for 2-3 weeks at a time NEVER taking them out legally acceptable?
If these things are all legally acceptable that makes me upset. I mean, not only were these dogs obviously suffering, but their agressive nature and insecure chains ALSO put everyone in danger, and when not in danger, in constant fear of the dogs gettings lose. For months I couldnt even park my car in my own driveway because the dog would be lunging on its chain, snapping and growling at me from about 10 feet away. Any time at all, the dog could pull its chain lose, and bam. And when the other dog (the non-people attacking one) got lose and attacked Murray because I was letting him pee in my own yard (this was before I knew how often they got lose) the owner said "Well you were antagonizing my dog by having your dog in the backyard." MY backyard.
So Anyways, here is the letter. I am still deciding how I feel about it.
If these things are all legally acceptable that makes me upset. I mean, not only were these dogs obviously suffering, but their agressive nature and insecure chains ALSO put everyone in danger, and when not in danger, in constant fear of the dogs gettings lose. For months I couldnt even park my car in my own driveway because the dog would be lunging on its chain, snapping and growling at me from about 10 feet away. Any time at all, the dog could pull its chain lose, and bam. And when the other dog (the non-people attacking one) got lose and attacked Murray because I was letting him pee in my own yard (this was before I knew how often they got lose) the owner said "Well you were antagonizing my dog by having your dog in the backyard." MY backyard.
So Anyways, here is the letter. I am still deciding how I feel about it.
Hi Lindsey,
I am so sorry for not responding to your email sooner as I have been having all kinds of problems with my email (and I'm not even sure you will get this). Regarding the pit bulls that were taken from 174 Fellow Ave while we did respond to any calls we received about them, there were no violations of law at that time that would allow us to seize the animals. As you can imagine this can be very frustrating.
As yourself, we had no way of knowing at that time that the dogs would later be abandoned, left in the basement. Please know that had we had enough evidence prior to this, we would have acted accordingly.
Sincerely,
Betsie
Friday, March 24, 2006
Syracuse, Dogs, and the SPCA
So the neighbor I life in in Syracuse is decent, friendly neighbors, working class, and what not. Except since I moved in the neighbors on our right were, well...... Not so good. They had two pitbull mixes tied up in their backyard to a derelict car. They had random bicycle halves and broken furniture strewn about. They had random shady types coming in and out of the house all the time. In the fall, when we kept out windows open, we could hear them screaming obscenities at their children. We could hear grandma yelling at her son to go buy the kids food, there wasn't any and they were hungry. Sometimes the parents would get in long, loud arguments through the night, screaming at each other about drug use.
I felt bad for the situation, felt bad for the family, felt especially bad for the poor kids, and the dogs chained up. As badly as I felt for the dogs, I was also terrified of them. Being chained up in a yard, not trained, not socialized, can do something to a dog, and these dogs were mean. Ever once and a while one or the other dogs would get lose. Once the brown dog got lose and ran around my house. Another time, the black dog got lose and tried to attack my roommate. Luckily he was building a bookshelf at the time, and had a big board, which he waved menacingly at the dog and kept it off him. Then one day the brown dog got lose while I was walking my small 15 lb mutt in my backyard. It attacked him. I swung him in the air on his leash and grabbed him. The dog was still trying to get him.... So with quick thinking, I saw the kitchen window was open and shoved my little dog through, saving him. Luckily the brown dog was not so interested in attacking me at the time.
Since I had moved in, I had called the SPCA in CNY a lot of times, and emailed them, telling them of the dogs neglect, how they also kept getting lose, and this was especially dangerous since our homes are across from a middle school. Even through all of this, I heard very little to nothing back from the SPCA. I also called animal control after the dog attacked mine. Still the dogs remained there. Outside, tied up with garbage strewn around them, no place to sleep, rain or shine.
Every once and while, the owners would put them in their basement and leave them down their for a few weeks. I saw the guy walking the dog about 3 times, in 7 months. Other than that, they would get thrown some food, and then ignored. Finally, recently, these neighbors left. I let out a sigh of relief. No more being woken up in the night by yelling, no more loud loud music played in cars outside my bedroom window at 8 in the morning. No more pitfalls. They were gone too. Or so I thought.
Every once and awhile, the old neighbors would stop by in their van, stay for a bit and then leave. Since no one told me anything regarding the house, I didn't know they weren't supposed to be there. My other neighbors became suspicious that maybe the dogs were still there, but we couldn't tell.
Then one night, the cops came. Discovered the old residents were using the empty house as a crack/whore house. Great. Wonderful. Additionally, it was mentioned (by word of mouth to me) that the dogs had been found in the basement and were brought to the SPCA. Well FINALLY, I thought.
Just now, today, I heard more of the story. Apparently, the house is in foreclosure. So the bank owns it. They had some guys there today cleaning out the stuff from the house. I talked to them, and they told me that when these dogs were found, almost dead.
It made me so angry. I called and emailed the SPCA a million times. My neighbor also did. Why was nothing done until the dogs had to suffer so much, for so long? The one thing I felt I could do to help this bad situation next door was to alteast get this innocent (and aggressive only due to the owners) dogs out of this place. But no. Nothing was done until the dogs were DYING. It pisses me off. So I wrote the SPCA this letter today:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anyways, I will give you updates, I am curious to see how they respond. Tell me what you think.
I felt bad for the situation, felt bad for the family, felt especially bad for the poor kids, and the dogs chained up. As badly as I felt for the dogs, I was also terrified of them. Being chained up in a yard, not trained, not socialized, can do something to a dog, and these dogs were mean. Ever once and a while one or the other dogs would get lose. Once the brown dog got lose and ran around my house. Another time, the black dog got lose and tried to attack my roommate. Luckily he was building a bookshelf at the time, and had a big board, which he waved menacingly at the dog and kept it off him. Then one day the brown dog got lose while I was walking my small 15 lb mutt in my backyard. It attacked him. I swung him in the air on his leash and grabbed him. The dog was still trying to get him.... So with quick thinking, I saw the kitchen window was open and shoved my little dog through, saving him. Luckily the brown dog was not so interested in attacking me at the time.
Since I had moved in, I had called the SPCA in CNY a lot of times, and emailed them, telling them of the dogs neglect, how they also kept getting lose, and this was especially dangerous since our homes are across from a middle school. Even through all of this, I heard very little to nothing back from the SPCA. I also called animal control after the dog attacked mine. Still the dogs remained there. Outside, tied up with garbage strewn around them, no place to sleep, rain or shine.
Every once and while, the owners would put them in their basement and leave them down their for a few weeks. I saw the guy walking the dog about 3 times, in 7 months. Other than that, they would get thrown some food, and then ignored. Finally, recently, these neighbors left. I let out a sigh of relief. No more being woken up in the night by yelling, no more loud loud music played in cars outside my bedroom window at 8 in the morning. No more pitfalls. They were gone too. Or so I thought.
Every once and awhile, the old neighbors would stop by in their van, stay for a bit and then leave. Since no one told me anything regarding the house, I didn't know they weren't supposed to be there. My other neighbors became suspicious that maybe the dogs were still there, but we couldn't tell.
Then one night, the cops came. Discovered the old residents were using the empty house as a crack/whore house. Great. Wonderful. Additionally, it was mentioned (by word of mouth to me) that the dogs had been found in the basement and were brought to the SPCA. Well FINALLY, I thought.
Just now, today, I heard more of the story. Apparently, the house is in foreclosure. So the bank owns it. They had some guys there today cleaning out the stuff from the house. I talked to them, and they told me that when these dogs were found, almost dead.
It made me so angry. I called and emailed the SPCA a million times. My neighbor also did. Why was nothing done until the dogs had to suffer so much, for so long? The one thing I felt I could do to help this bad situation next door was to alteast get this innocent (and aggressive only due to the owners) dogs out of this place. But no. Nothing was done until the dogs were DYING. It pisses me off. So I wrote the SPCA this letter today:
To Whom it May Concern:
I am writing because I have just found out some more of the story regarding the pitbulls at *** _______ Ave. As a neighbor who moved in in late August, I have called the SPCA many times, and emailed as well regarding the neglect of the those dogs. Many times I was told by your people that you would be looking into it. I never saw any consequences, and eventually, the owners moved out. Unbeknownst to me, they left the dogs in the basement. When the foreclosure company came to clean the house out, they found the dogs starving to death in the basement. I was told that then the SPCA finally came and took them. It really saddens me to hear that even though I have been contacting you with concerns about these dogs treatment in the past 8 months, nothing was done until after the dogs were forced to suffer these cruel, inhumane treatment as they slowly and quietly were starving in the basement. I am really upset that these dogs were not taken out of this situation earlier, preventing them from suffering from this further cruel treatment, when I, as well as my upstairs neighbors, had contacted you repeatedly regarding the dogs.
It really breaks my heart to think this dogs were mistreated for so long, and even with my and my neighbors emails and phone calls to you, that this still happened to these dogs.
I am writing because I have just found out some more of the story regarding the pitbulls at *** _______ Ave. As a neighbor who moved in in late August, I have called the SPCA many times, and emailed as well regarding the neglect of the those dogs. Many times I was told by your people that you would be looking into it. I never saw any consequences, and eventually, the owners moved out. Unbeknownst to me, they left the dogs in the basement. When the foreclosure company came to clean the house out, they found the dogs starving to death in the basement. I was told that then the SPCA finally came and took them. It really saddens me to hear that even though I have been contacting you with concerns about these dogs treatment in the past 8 months, nothing was done until after the dogs were forced to suffer these cruel, inhumane treatment as they slowly and quietly were starving in the basement. I am really upset that these dogs were not taken out of this situation earlier, preventing them from suffering from this further cruel treatment, when I, as well as my upstairs neighbors, had contacted you repeatedly regarding the dogs.
It really breaks my heart to think this dogs were mistreated for so long, and even with my and my neighbors emails and phone calls to you, that this still happened to these dogs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anyways, I will give you updates, I am curious to see how they respond. Tell me what you think.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
that fresh bleaching
my room mate spent a good part of the evening whitening her teeth. then she drank pepsi. (or coke, how do i know?)
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
BBay part cricket
So i keep meaning to write more about my bombay trip, and I keep forgetting. Now I decided I will comment some on my time visiting with da boyz.
The second week I was in Mumbai, I volunteered a couple hours a day at a home run by nuns for street kids. The one I visited housed 20 boys. At first, I was totally nervous, because I never consider myself to be "good" working with boys, but rather assume I am good working with girls. This experience proved my assumptions wrong. Sure, the boys were a little rowdy from time to time, but they were great! I brought Uno and another game to teach them, and we spent some time sketching, making masks, and (I think it may have been the winner) making puppets! When not being artsy inside, I would go with them to the park and they would teach me how to play. I was taught the basics of cricket (well of batting) and played badminton and also the youngest boy Akash tried to teach me everyday how to properly spin tops. These tops are the cool kind that you wrap a piece of string around and then have to fling. Many of the boys can do awesome tricks with their tops, like fling them into the air and catch them (still spinning) in the palm of their hand. I, on the other hand, only managed to get the top to spin around a bit a few times, after many intense lessons from Akash, who was NOT going to give up on my lack of top-spinning skills.
Also, Akash really liked to take my hand and take me around. On the first day I was their, another boy sat down next to me, and just looked at me smiling. All of these boys were so sweet.
The nuns told me a bit about the home. They told me how all of these boys were found in places like train stations on their own. Slowly, volunteers would get to know them, find out why they were there, where their parents were (if they had them)and then would eventually invite them to come stay at this home (if they desired). At the home, they would get a chance to go to school, a warm, comfy place to stay, three meals a day, tutoring and homework help, and so forth. There was a guy who grew up at the home, now grown, with a good education and a job, who came and visited all the time.
In addition to the many kids found on the streets, some where orphans, like my Akash (oh how I wanted to steal him and his brother and take them home with me!) and another boy Kapil, who was found abandoned as a baby. He lived his toddler years elsewhere, then was moved to this home. Everyone described him as "a little off in the head" and upon meeting him I absolutely loved him! He is "a little off" (I don't know how) but he is also sweet, loving, engages with people, loves to play creatively, and talkative. He is around 8 (I would guess) and does not yet know how to read and write, but I noticed the other boys don't let him do a lot of stuff either (I was letting him glue his own mask, but the other boys got upset that he was smushing the glue stick). He also was extremely good at following directions even when he was not happy about them. He asked if he could go to the park to play with the other boys, and the head nun told him no because he has "fits" sometimes and she doesn't want him to fall down and get hurt (She didn't explain this any further to me). And he looked sad but then quickly found an indoor game to busy himself. Also all the other boys love him. Everyone always makes sure to show him affection by giving him a hug, greeting him, or giving him a pat on the back. The head nun told me they are trying to get him adopted by an American Family... But I don't know the details.
Another sweet boy was Gopala. He is missing his leg from a little below his knee down. My "interpreter" (another sweetie, a bit older, who loved to play sports in the park with me) told me "Gopala got run over by a train. That's why his leg is gone. He gets sad about that" Gopala has a fake leg thing, but it doesn't work too well. He is not allowed to go play in the park either. He can be very quiet, and keeps himself away from the other boys a lot. Once his leg (which has weird scars) touched somebody else and the kick smacked him. He started crying, and I went and sat by him. He said he was crying coz it hurt him, but I wonder if it was really because the boy said his leg was so gross, rather than being hit.
Anyways, each boy has his own story, and they were all such great kids. I really enjoyed doing art with them and playing with them.
Front left is Kapil, next is my lovely interpreter, two over is Akash, one row up (behind Kapil) is Gopala. Unfortunately, since I was there such a short time, I didn't get a chance to learn all their names, but I remember each one and special things about each of them anyways!
The second week I was in Mumbai, I volunteered a couple hours a day at a home run by nuns for street kids. The one I visited housed 20 boys. At first, I was totally nervous, because I never consider myself to be "good" working with boys, but rather assume I am good working with girls. This experience proved my assumptions wrong. Sure, the boys were a little rowdy from time to time, but they were great! I brought Uno and another game to teach them, and we spent some time sketching, making masks, and (I think it may have been the winner) making puppets! When not being artsy inside, I would go with them to the park and they would teach me how to play. I was taught the basics of cricket (well of batting) and played badminton and also the youngest boy Akash tried to teach me everyday how to properly spin tops. These tops are the cool kind that you wrap a piece of string around and then have to fling. Many of the boys can do awesome tricks with their tops, like fling them into the air and catch them (still spinning) in the palm of their hand. I, on the other hand, only managed to get the top to spin around a bit a few times, after many intense lessons from Akash, who was NOT going to give up on my lack of top-spinning skills.
Also, Akash really liked to take my hand and take me around. On the first day I was their, another boy sat down next to me, and just looked at me smiling. All of these boys were so sweet.
The nuns told me a bit about the home. They told me how all of these boys were found in places like train stations on their own. Slowly, volunteers would get to know them, find out why they were there, where their parents were (if they had them)and then would eventually invite them to come stay at this home (if they desired). At the home, they would get a chance to go to school, a warm, comfy place to stay, three meals a day, tutoring and homework help, and so forth. There was a guy who grew up at the home, now grown, with a good education and a job, who came and visited all the time.
In addition to the many kids found on the streets, some where orphans, like my Akash (oh how I wanted to steal him and his brother and take them home with me!) and another boy Kapil, who was found abandoned as a baby. He lived his toddler years elsewhere, then was moved to this home. Everyone described him as "a little off in the head" and upon meeting him I absolutely loved him! He is "a little off" (I don't know how) but he is also sweet, loving, engages with people, loves to play creatively, and talkative. He is around 8 (I would guess) and does not yet know how to read and write, but I noticed the other boys don't let him do a lot of stuff either (I was letting him glue his own mask, but the other boys got upset that he was smushing the glue stick). He also was extremely good at following directions even when he was not happy about them. He asked if he could go to the park to play with the other boys, and the head nun told him no because he has "fits" sometimes and she doesn't want him to fall down and get hurt (She didn't explain this any further to me). And he looked sad but then quickly found an indoor game to busy himself. Also all the other boys love him. Everyone always makes sure to show him affection by giving him a hug, greeting him, or giving him a pat on the back. The head nun told me they are trying to get him adopted by an American Family... But I don't know the details.
Another sweet boy was Gopala. He is missing his leg from a little below his knee down. My "interpreter" (another sweetie, a bit older, who loved to play sports in the park with me) told me "Gopala got run over by a train. That's why his leg is gone. He gets sad about that" Gopala has a fake leg thing, but it doesn't work too well. He is not allowed to go play in the park either. He can be very quiet, and keeps himself away from the other boys a lot. Once his leg (which has weird scars) touched somebody else and the kick smacked him. He started crying, and I went and sat by him. He said he was crying coz it hurt him, but I wonder if it was really because the boy said his leg was so gross, rather than being hit.
Anyways, each boy has his own story, and they were all such great kids. I really enjoyed doing art with them and playing with them.
Front left is Kapil, next is my lovely interpreter, two over is Akash, one row up (behind Kapil) is Gopala. Unfortunately, since I was there such a short time, I didn't get a chance to learn all their names, but I remember each one and special things about each of them anyways!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
what can i say?
usually, i try, try try to understand people's point of view, where they are coming from, and why they believe what they do. usually i am very tolerant, so forth so forth. but there is one thing i can never ever budge on. why? because it is part of me. this opinion in life is part of me. i can't let it go. i am not good at tolerating the opposite in people that are close to me. what is this opinion?
it's about our dear friend pornography. to me porn lies in the category of "grossly perpetuating viewing women as sexual objects for men's pleasure". yes. that is true. argue you with me. but, if, maybe. but still. i will not budge. this opinion is part of me. it runs through my blood. if i let it out it will leave an angry splatter of words that usually i would be able to keep to myself, were it about something else.
honestly. i can't deal. it makes me angry. like wanting to throw stuff. breakable stuff. it makes me want to cry. it also makes me want to scream, denounce humanity, and hide in a cave for eternity. i'm not arguing that other stuff that perpetuating women (or men, in some cases) as objects doesn't exist. it does. it exists. it's a shame, too. but this. this. porn. porn is like... the lowest of the low. well, besides maybe rape, pedophila, and so forth. i guess we will say the lowest of the low for a person not criminal/mental enough to commit said other crimes. and yet, so many people just participate in it anyways.
but honestly. it is one thing i cannot bend on. why? because i can't. why can't i? because it is a strong belief. for me, this is one thing where there is no compromise.
in general, i am an accomodator, a peace maker, a back patter. this is very uncharacteristic for me. that's why, i guess, it can be understood to be so important to me. again and again i have to go through this argument. again and again. it is tiring. it is old. i am sick of it. why can't a woman's perspective on women's bodies be taken seriously?
it's about our dear friend pornography. to me porn lies in the category of "grossly perpetuating viewing women as sexual objects for men's pleasure". yes. that is true. argue you with me. but, if, maybe. but still. i will not budge. this opinion is part of me. it runs through my blood. if i let it out it will leave an angry splatter of words that usually i would be able to keep to myself, were it about something else.
honestly. i can't deal. it makes me angry. like wanting to throw stuff. breakable stuff. it makes me want to cry. it also makes me want to scream, denounce humanity, and hide in a cave for eternity. i'm not arguing that other stuff that perpetuating women (or men, in some cases) as objects doesn't exist. it does. it exists. it's a shame, too. but this. this. porn. porn is like... the lowest of the low. well, besides maybe rape, pedophila, and so forth. i guess we will say the lowest of the low for a person not criminal/mental enough to commit said other crimes. and yet, so many people just participate in it anyways.
but honestly. it is one thing i cannot bend on. why? because i can't. why can't i? because it is a strong belief. for me, this is one thing where there is no compromise.
in general, i am an accomodator, a peace maker, a back patter. this is very uncharacteristic for me. that's why, i guess, it can be understood to be so important to me. again and again i have to go through this argument. again and again. it is tiring. it is old. i am sick of it. why can't a woman's perspective on women's bodies be taken seriously?
Thursday, February 09, 2006
What ever happened to.....
Tonya Harding? I never would have thought about it, but today I was procrastinating and looking at wikipedia sites about figure skating, when I ran across a link to a page about her. We all remember her, the kinda white trashy figure skater whose boyfriend tried to wack Nancy Kerrigan? (in the leg). Well, here is your answer folks:
No joke.
No joke.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Bbay Part do deux dos
December 30, 2005 7:10 Mumbai time:
The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is open the curtain and observe The Morning Walk. My bedroom window looks out over the wall of the society, below are parked cars, being wiped down. Most are small- Maruti, Honda, Hyundai, and most, interestingly, silver. Over the wall is a park.
It consists of some dry grass and dirt patches where boys play football in the evenings, some large trees covered in the dust of India that covers everything except during the Monsoon, and new, tiny trees protected by metal cages. On my far left, near the entrance is a playground, painted yellow. The one time I entered the park, I saw a blanket there, tied under the slide like a hammock. Curious, I peered inside. A baby, wiggled about, and entertained itself. The baby's mother was sweeping the pathway, at the other end. I stopped, watching a moment. A feeling came over me, like I had walked into someone's house, intruding on their daily routine. I quietly slipped out the gate. The woman continued to sweep.
Around the periphery lies a pink pathway made out of pavers, with another path bisecting the rectangular/oval path. Padding along this small oval are the Morning Walkers. Old men with pot bellies under their shirts, thick glasses, capri pants, striped socks and sneakers are walking. Middle-aged women in sari and sweater, with sneakers are walking, some with sari-end pinned over their head. Women who remind me of my mom- dressed in a 'nice' shirt, capris, and sneakers. Young people, in jeans, shirt, with headphones attached to their Mp3 players.
Around, and around, and around, each one passing by my window ever couple of minutes. No one notices me, peering down. So every morning, I open my curtain, and laughter escapes, involuntarily. The joy of the Morning Walk.
The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is open the curtain and observe The Morning Walk. My bedroom window looks out over the wall of the society, below are parked cars, being wiped down. Most are small- Maruti, Honda, Hyundai, and most, interestingly, silver. Over the wall is a park.
It consists of some dry grass and dirt patches where boys play football in the evenings, some large trees covered in the dust of India that covers everything except during the Monsoon, and new, tiny trees protected by metal cages. On my far left, near the entrance is a playground, painted yellow. The one time I entered the park, I saw a blanket there, tied under the slide like a hammock. Curious, I peered inside. A baby, wiggled about, and entertained itself. The baby's mother was sweeping the pathway, at the other end. I stopped, watching a moment. A feeling came over me, like I had walked into someone's house, intruding on their daily routine. I quietly slipped out the gate. The woman continued to sweep.
Around the periphery lies a pink pathway made out of pavers, with another path bisecting the rectangular/oval path. Padding along this small oval are the Morning Walkers. Old men with pot bellies under their shirts, thick glasses, capri pants, striped socks and sneakers are walking. Middle-aged women in sari and sweater, with sneakers are walking, some with sari-end pinned over their head. Women who remind me of my mom- dressed in a 'nice' shirt, capris, and sneakers. Young people, in jeans, shirt, with headphones attached to their Mp3 players.
Around, and around, and around, each one passing by my window ever couple of minutes. No one notices me, peering down. So every morning, I open my curtain, and laughter escapes, involuntarily. The joy of the Morning Walk.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Oh Shit, they found me!
So I was bored and took this Enneagram test, which is supposed to tell your your personality type. Not only did it tell me. but described me exactly. Freaky. Really. I mean. Everything it says. Shit, man, shit:
The Helper (the Two)
Helpers are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs.
How to Get Along with Me
* Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific.
* Share fun times with me.
* Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours.
* Let me know that I am important and special to you.
* Be gentle if you decide to criticize me.
In Intimate Relationships
* Reassure me that I am intersting to you.
* Reassure me often that you love me.
* Tell me I'm attractive and that you're glad to be seen with me.
What I Like About Being a Two
* being able to relate easily to people and to make friends
* knowing what people need and being able to make their lives better
* being generous, caring, and warm
* being sensitive to and perceptive about others' feelings
* being enthusiastic and fun-loving, and having a good sense of humor
What's Hard About Being a Two
* not being able to say no
* having low self-esteem
* feeling drained from overdoing for others
* not doing things I really like to do for myself for fear of being selfish
* criticizing myself for not feeling as loving as I think I should
* being upset that others don't tune in to me as much as I tume in to them
* working so hard to be tactful and considerate that I suppress my real feelings
Twos as Children Often
* are very sensitive to disapproval and criticism
* try hard to please their parents by being helpful and understanding
* are outwardly compliant
* are popular or try to be popular with other children
* act coy, precocious, or dramatic in order to get attention
* are clowns and jokers (the more extroverted Twos), or quiet and shy (the more introverted Twos)
Twos as Parents
* are good listeners, love their children unconditionally, and are warm and encouraging (or suffer guilt if they aren't)
* are often playful with their children
* wonder: "Am I doing it right?" "Am I giving enough?" "Have I caused irreparable damage?"
* can become fiercely protective
Renee Baron & Elizabeth Wagele
The Enneagram Made Easy
Discover the 9 Types of People
HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, 161 pages
The Helper (the Two)
Helpers are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs.
How to Get Along with Me
* Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific.
* Share fun times with me.
* Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours.
* Let me know that I am important and special to you.
* Be gentle if you decide to criticize me.
In Intimate Relationships
* Reassure me that I am intersting to you.
* Reassure me often that you love me.
* Tell me I'm attractive and that you're glad to be seen with me.
What I Like About Being a Two
* being able to relate easily to people and to make friends
* knowing what people need and being able to make their lives better
* being generous, caring, and warm
* being sensitive to and perceptive about others' feelings
* being enthusiastic and fun-loving, and having a good sense of humor
What's Hard About Being a Two
* not being able to say no
* having low self-esteem
* feeling drained from overdoing for others
* not doing things I really like to do for myself for fear of being selfish
* criticizing myself for not feeling as loving as I think I should
* being upset that others don't tune in to me as much as I tume in to them
* working so hard to be tactful and considerate that I suppress my real feelings
Twos as Children Often
* are very sensitive to disapproval and criticism
* try hard to please their parents by being helpful and understanding
* are outwardly compliant
* are popular or try to be popular with other children
* act coy, precocious, or dramatic in order to get attention
* are clowns and jokers (the more extroverted Twos), or quiet and shy (the more introverted Twos)
Twos as Parents
* are good listeners, love their children unconditionally, and are warm and encouraging (or suffer guilt if they aren't)
* are often playful with their children
* wonder: "Am I doing it right?" "Am I giving enough?" "Have I caused irreparable damage?"
* can become fiercely protective
Renee Baron & Elizabeth Wagele
The Enneagram Made Easy
Discover the 9 Types of People
HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, 161 pages
Friday, January 20, 2006
BBay is the place to be!
So I spent two weeks in Mumbai (or Bombay, or Bbay, if you are THAT cool) over break, from December 27, 2005-January 11, 2006.
I decided, last time I left India, that I would go back during my Christmas break from grad school if I had the money. Why Mumbai, you ask? Well, last time I went to India, I spent 2 1/2 months in rural (when I mean rural, I mean RURAL, I mean, no running water or electricity) Bihar, which was a wonderful experience. (And no, I didn't get mugged, conned or raped, contrary to popular opinion of Bihar).
I have some friends from India, all of whom were shocked that I went to Bihar, and began to describe the virtues of the metropolii of India, especially Bombay. So I thought, hell, why not go check this shit out? So I found myself a flat online, in a suburb called Andheri West, booked myself a cheap plane ticket (mera pita Delta ke liye pilot the), packed my tiny rolling suitcase full of books (and clothes, I guess) and off I flew. (oh I had to get a visa too , of course. but that was not rather painful, since it was my third for india, I think they don't care anymore).
It's interesting that I flew Alone, because I am not an Alone kind of person. But I am an India person, and it's not very easy to convince your friends to take an impromtu trip to India without so much in the way of plans, hence I had to deal with Alone, so I could get my India fix.
So.
Off I went. Flying into Bombay at night, my good friend, who is from BBay, picked me up and drove me to my flat. I briefly met Jyoti, the caretaker of the flat while the owner is visiting her daughter in the US. I checked out the flat...
Marble floors, in a "society" complex. There was a pool in the middle of the complex (which remained empty the whole time I was there). This flat consisted of 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. Quite swanky, in a place like BBay which is horribly expensive. I was told this flat cost 52 lakhs to buy (more than 100,000 $) but I was only playing $150 for my two week stay.
This is the kitchen....
This is my bedroom (socks on the floor)
Anyways, so, after taking it all in, I tried to sleep.
I decided, last time I left India, that I would go back during my Christmas break from grad school if I had the money. Why Mumbai, you ask? Well, last time I went to India, I spent 2 1/2 months in rural (when I mean rural, I mean RURAL, I mean, no running water or electricity) Bihar, which was a wonderful experience. (And no, I didn't get mugged, conned or raped, contrary to popular opinion of Bihar).
I have some friends from India, all of whom were shocked that I went to Bihar, and began to describe the virtues of the metropolii of India, especially Bombay. So I thought, hell, why not go check this shit out? So I found myself a flat online, in a suburb called Andheri West, booked myself a cheap plane ticket (mera pita Delta ke liye pilot the), packed my tiny rolling suitcase full of books (and clothes, I guess) and off I flew. (oh I had to get a visa too , of course. but that was not rather painful, since it was my third for india, I think they don't care anymore).
It's interesting that I flew Alone, because I am not an Alone kind of person. But I am an India person, and it's not very easy to convince your friends to take an impromtu trip to India without so much in the way of plans, hence I had to deal with Alone, so I could get my India fix.
So.
Off I went. Flying into Bombay at night, my good friend, who is from BBay, picked me up and drove me to my flat. I briefly met Jyoti, the caretaker of the flat while the owner is visiting her daughter in the US. I checked out the flat...
Marble floors, in a "society" complex. There was a pool in the middle of the complex (which remained empty the whole time I was there). This flat consisted of 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. Quite swanky, in a place like BBay which is horribly expensive. I was told this flat cost 52 lakhs to buy (more than 100,000 $) but I was only playing $150 for my two week stay.
This is the kitchen....
This is my bedroom (socks on the floor)Anyways, so, after taking it all in, I tried to sleep.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Phantom Pirate Ghost Cat
So my cat snoop is very talkative. He meows for everything. He meows when he sees you. He meows for food. He meows for you to open the door.
The last couple of days I thought I heard meowing, and I kept thinking it was snoop, meowing from afar, but instead I would find him curled up in a ball sleeping. It was such a quiet meowing, I thought maybe it was just a trick, so I didn't think of it, until it happened a couple times. By then I was sure snoop wasn't meowing. Curious. Still I didn't trouble myself too much, until last night I heard it again, and snoop was definately sleeping right in front of me, not meowing. I asked my roomie Ayca and she said she had been hearing the meowing too. Both of us had been thinking, maybe we just THINK we are hearing meowing, so neither of us investigated.
Last night, snoop was down in the basement playing (a terribly dingy dirty nasty place that he loves for some reason). He came up and pushed the back door open, and I happened to see him. As snoop galloped in, in his cheerful kitty manner, I glimpsed him! The phanton pirate ghost cat! He was gray and white and had a very innocent look on his face. When I went to see closer, he had vanished.
This only meant one thing. I had to get my flashlight and go explore the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement. So, down I went, wearing flip flops with my socks to protect my feet from the filth. As I went down, snoop ran by, and ran around the basement in attempt to thwart me, and keep me off the trail of the phantom pirate ghost cat. After searching each and every corner, AHA! glowing kitty eyes next to the furnace. There he was! gray and white, looking somewhat confused, the phantom pirate ghost cat was found! I began to inch towards him, to ascertain his friendliness, and poof, he disapeared again. No matter how hard I searched, I could not find my phantom friend.
Now, you may be wondering, how did a phantom pirate ghost cat get into my basement in the first place? Since we have moved in, snoop has known some secret kitty entrance to the basement from outside. This entrance, is in fact, a one-way door only. Once in the basement, kitties cannot return outdoors. Snoop would then have to come up to the backdoor and demand me to let him into the house. So snoop's normal pattern would be: I let him out the front door, he goes out and plays, then he comes in through the one-way secret kitty door, rolls around in the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement before meowing at the backdoor to come in.
So there are a few scenarios as to how the phantom pirate ghost cat got into the basement:
1. Snoop kidnapped him and shoved him into the one-way secret kitty door to trap him in the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement where he planed to starve him and make a gray-and-white-cat-skin suit for himself.
2. Snoop wanted to initiate his new neighbor kitty friends into his fetish for the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement.
3. Snoop is really secretly gay, but has not come out to me yet, and this was a secret lover's rendez-vous gone wrong. (And I do wonder after his close friendship with Tito in Boston.)
Regardless of how the phantom pirate ghost cat got INTO my basment, I now had to get him OUT. Seening as how he seemed rather slippery in nature, as well as being a phanton, a pirate, and a ghost, I thought it may be a difficult task to complete. So I went with the most simple plan: I left the door to outside open. Now, if I were a phantom pirate ghost cat, I would waver on the idea of venturing out, as to the cold enironment awaiting him, but also be excited to escape the clutches of snoop, whatever his intentions, to head home for a nice warm bed, a littler box to pee in, and some food to fill the belly.
An hour later, I went back down to see if the phanton pirate ghost cat had indeed taken his leave. I searched the basement, and did not find him, so I hope he has choosen to depart. Yet, we must remember that he IS a phantom ghost pirate, and may well be hiding, lurking, waiting..... indeed, we shall see.
The last couple of days I thought I heard meowing, and I kept thinking it was snoop, meowing from afar, but instead I would find him curled up in a ball sleeping. It was such a quiet meowing, I thought maybe it was just a trick, so I didn't think of it, until it happened a couple times. By then I was sure snoop wasn't meowing. Curious. Still I didn't trouble myself too much, until last night I heard it again, and snoop was definately sleeping right in front of me, not meowing. I asked my roomie Ayca and she said she had been hearing the meowing too. Both of us had been thinking, maybe we just THINK we are hearing meowing, so neither of us investigated.
Last night, snoop was down in the basement playing (a terribly dingy dirty nasty place that he loves for some reason). He came up and pushed the back door open, and I happened to see him. As snoop galloped in, in his cheerful kitty manner, I glimpsed him! The phanton pirate ghost cat! He was gray and white and had a very innocent look on his face. When I went to see closer, he had vanished.
This only meant one thing. I had to get my flashlight and go explore the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement. So, down I went, wearing flip flops with my socks to protect my feet from the filth. As I went down, snoop ran by, and ran around the basement in attempt to thwart me, and keep me off the trail of the phantom pirate ghost cat. After searching each and every corner, AHA! glowing kitty eyes next to the furnace. There he was! gray and white, looking somewhat confused, the phantom pirate ghost cat was found! I began to inch towards him, to ascertain his friendliness, and poof, he disapeared again. No matter how hard I searched, I could not find my phantom friend.
Now, you may be wondering, how did a phantom pirate ghost cat get into my basement in the first place? Since we have moved in, snoop has known some secret kitty entrance to the basement from outside. This entrance, is in fact, a one-way door only. Once in the basement, kitties cannot return outdoors. Snoop would then have to come up to the backdoor and demand me to let him into the house. So snoop's normal pattern would be: I let him out the front door, he goes out and plays, then he comes in through the one-way secret kitty door, rolls around in the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement before meowing at the backdoor to come in.
So there are a few scenarios as to how the phantom pirate ghost cat got into the basement:
1. Snoop kidnapped him and shoved him into the one-way secret kitty door to trap him in the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement where he planed to starve him and make a gray-and-white-cat-skin suit for himself.
2. Snoop wanted to initiate his new neighbor kitty friends into his fetish for the terribly dingy dirty nasty place called the basement.
3. Snoop is really secretly gay, but has not come out to me yet, and this was a secret lover's rendez-vous gone wrong. (And I do wonder after his close friendship with Tito in Boston.)
Regardless of how the phantom pirate ghost cat got INTO my basment, I now had to get him OUT. Seening as how he seemed rather slippery in nature, as well as being a phanton, a pirate, and a ghost, I thought it may be a difficult task to complete. So I went with the most simple plan: I left the door to outside open. Now, if I were a phantom pirate ghost cat, I would waver on the idea of venturing out, as to the cold enironment awaiting him, but also be excited to escape the clutches of snoop, whatever his intentions, to head home for a nice warm bed, a littler box to pee in, and some food to fill the belly.
An hour later, I went back down to see if the phanton pirate ghost cat had indeed taken his leave. I searched the basement, and did not find him, so I hope he has choosen to depart. Yet, we must remember that he IS a phantom ghost pirate, and may well be hiding, lurking, waiting..... indeed, we shall see.
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