Wedneday, January 19, 2011
Can someone please tell me why my neighbor up the street has been turning up his Thai pop music for all of us to enjoy at odd hours of the night? This is probably the fourth time I’ve had the pleasure of waking up to a loud electric guitar, heavy drum beat, pingy xylophone, and a trilling Thai voice. The sound sounds like it’s coming from a stadium the way the voice echos…..but that would make even less sense. This is such a strange place. Oh, now they’re playing a Mozart minuet. That’s better…..but why blast Mozart at 4:26 AM?!
I was in bed before nine last night. I was exhausted and not feeling well. I’m pretty sure it was the food I ate yesterday—any time I think about it I experience an intense wave of nausea. I would tell you what I ate, except I have no clue what any of it was—lots of rice and…stuff. I went to sleep quickly, but it wasn’t a restful sleep. I was tossing and turning all night—which is quite the feat when you sleep on a thing mat covering a wooden board; I feel like I wrestled an elephant.
Oh I wish so badly that I were at home in my own bed, mom playing with my hair, and Dad giving me something to settle my stomach and help me sleep. But instead, I get to try to be tough.
The days here have been so happy and beautiful…but I dread going to bed at night because I know I’ll have to start being tough again. Then again, I’m not sure that complaining on my Blog counts as being tough. At least I’m being honest...this way I’m showing both the good and the bad, so those who worry about me will know that I’m happy despite the hard things, and those who are jealous of me for being here will know that it’s not all peaches and cream.
I’m playing a game called, “try not to think about the food you ate yesterday.” I know what that food looked like before I ate it, and I can definitely do without seeing what it looks like after it’s been partially digested.
OK…..quick, on to something else. Uh……I saw Jimmy on his hammock the other day. He looks kind of like a fat and sloppy version of Steve Allred—I’m really glad you’re not that version of yourself, Steve.
I hate being sick when there’s no one to take care of me but me.