Having the luxurious summer life of a teacher has given me plenty of time to prepare for and agonize about the trip. In the back of my head the whole time is the knowledge that everything I do won't matter if I do not receive the authorization for my visa from the Indian government. That's right, two weeks before I'm scheduled to leave for the Washington DC orientation, I still don't know if I'm actually going. At most points in the day I'm able to keep this horrific possibility at bay, but at times it takes hold of me and I know what Anne of Green Gables meant when she experienced "the depths of despair."
But let's not get too dramatic here. This is Erin we're talking about, and as existentialist as I like to say I am, I've not inherited the sense of despair often attributed to them. Instead I just remember that a Zen Buddhist once told me that emotions are like clouds--they feel all-encompassing, but are really just passing experiences to be enjoyed in the moment and then released. But as much as I like this idea of temporality and unnattachment, I can't help but think that Anne would have bashed a slate over his head if he'd said that to her during one of her fits of passion.
So, in conclusion, a small request to the Indian government: Please, I promise I am not a terrorist. I do not want your land. I do not want to instigate brothels in your cities. Please, please, please let me in.
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