Forty-Something Years in Ninaland

Nobody Knows…


Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

The dishes are piling up, the pans I used to make shrimp dumplings last night have soy sauce stuck to them. The floor needs to be swept, the popcorn I ate for breakfast spilled on the floor and I missed a few when picking them up. Yes, I had popcorn for breakfast.

It’s not a good day. I slept too much, could not get out of bed. Don’t know what to say or if I have anything at all to say. I didn’t water the flowers which have been doing pretty well since I have been taking care of them lately. The dead red impatients need to be clipped and I should probably give them some plant food.

I fought with my mom this afternoon, something about my attitude. Don’t even remember what I said. I was supposed to do, and do and do, and I did nothing. I ordered a take out spicy salmon bowl from Sushi Ya, they forgot to give me chopsticks which annoyed me. There will be an eclipse soon, and I’ve made no plans to see it. What else am I missing out on in life? I’m reminded of the song, “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Can’t decide if I like that song or hate it, never could decide.

I prayed today, prayed things would get better.

I started with a new commitment on a health plan. I can only hope it works this time. I’m shakey, shakey about what’s to come next in this life. I watched the news for a moment. Note to self: news is not a pick me up. Bad idea. News is about the sad state of this country, which seems to be going downhill. I don’t want to know about white supremacists, they are not people, tell me about people.

But the thing is, I can’t be like this. There are flowers hanging right outside my window. They need me to keep them alive. I need them to keep me alive. There is music playing in the background of my life…I’m listening to that song…”We’ve got the dreamer’s disease.”

And I still dream. I have nightmares when I sleep too much, but the dreams I have when I am awake, they are sometimes better than reality. I was watching a new show on Netflix called Atypical. The reality is I’m Atypical. I’m not normal and I’m OK with that, I never really wanted to be normal. I just want to be good.

Does that sound cliche, wanting to be good? How about just wanting to feel good?

It’s almost ten o’clock at night and I want to eat something sweet. As I mentioned I started a new weight loss plan, well let’s just call it a healthy lifestyle, shall we. Let’s not use the dreaded word diet. But it’s a diet.

I’m a little hungry, a little annoyed and my head feels a little heavy. I recently changed medications and I think I’m having withdrawal symptoms. That’s why sometimes I withdraw from the world. Because it doesn’t make any sense to me. None of this makes sense.

I’m not depressed because people in the streets are chanting about hating people like me, I’m depressed because I’m not out there fighting against it. I haven’t gone to a rally or protest or anything. I’m still having trouble leading a regular life, much less trying to change the world.

You know, I used to want to think about changing the world, especially about race, but it seems rather pointless to think in such broad terms. I can’t even change the fact that if I came home with an African American man my parents would freak out. And I’m not the only Indian person with this problem.

I don’t know how to change people, and I’m not sure how to change myself. It’s days like these where I wonder if there is a point in doing anything at all. If we should all boycott life, like I sometimes do, and stay in bed all day. My father who really isn’t really a racist loved Obama, but wouldn’t want his daughter to marry a Black or Muslim man, said that all minorities in America should boycott work, like the peaceful protests in India. We should all just take a day off because we have to fight against the bully racist that is running this country.

I like any idea that promotes taking a day off of work. So why do I say my dad is not a racist when he sort of is? Well, he is very much against the racism in this country. He can be a hypocrite, he is complicated. As am I. He is trying.

Is it good enough? Is any of this good enough. Are any of us good enough?

We don’t know, no one knows for sure who is assessing, who is counting, where the measures are being made.

I’ve decided instead of measuring I will meditate and leave the rest up to the universe.


Photo by Victor Lozano on Unsplash

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