reach for the cup of life 'cause your name is on it

There are times when I realize that I am a terrible person. Tonight was one of those times. I was extremely tired all day, due to the fact that I was up until almost three a.m. last night. I came home and ate dinner, then did some work in my bedroom. I went downstairs around ten to get something to drink, and there were people hanging out, so I joined them. For awhile it was fun, but the conversation unexpectedly dove into a very serious discussion of one person's volunteer work at an orphanage for children with AIDS. It's a very sad story; there are 27 kids living in a main space the size of our living room, they have one cricket bat and ball, and the home itself is underfunded.

This is where we get to the part about how I'm a terrible person. All I really wanted to do was escape the conversation and go upstairs, because if it wasn't a truly relaxing few minutes there was no reason for me to spend that time listening to something depressing when I still have work to do and will probably have to work all weekend. There was no acceptable way to get out of the conversation, though, and so I sat silently, waiting for a natural break in the conversation (which felt like it took forever because everyone else was v. interested and so kept asking questions).

Now, on top of the fact that I am tired and overworked, I have to contemplate how I just don't have the same level of compassion as other people. I feel guilty about it, to the point that I almost want to delete everything that I've just written. But between my job, my passion and caring for my friends and family, and my desire to figure out what to do with the rest of my life, I don't have a lot of time or mental energy left over to sit around and discuss suffering. I really admire the people who go out and do something about the problems around them; however, I really don't admire extended conversations about suffering with no plan of action to change things. At least the person who is volunteering at the orphanage has a plan...but I was just too tired and cranky to hear about it tonight.

So, to completely switch gears in the most inappropriate way--while everyone else was talking about orphans, I was mentally planning my trip to Europe. I'm taking vacation in August, and I bought the tickets today! I know, I should have taken vacation in India, but I don't want to travel here by myself, and I desperately need a vacation. I haven't taken a vacation that didn't involve going to Iowa since I visited Katie in New Orleans over a year ago. It should be quite fun, and I intend to eat all sorts of beef (mad cow disease be damned), drink wine, and generally have a fun-filled time. I think I'm going to Paris and Italy, although I'm flying in to London, and so I may spend a day or two there depending on travel arrangements. I still intend to travel around India on long weekends or if my family comes out, but a vacation in August sounds extremely appealing. I sort of hit the wall this week in terms of work, and while I'm actually quite chipper about the whole deal (since I am at my happiest when I'm pressed so far up against the wall that I can't even remember a time when I was able to relax), it would be nice to get a break. To top it off, it takes less travel time and fewer switched timezones to get to Europe than it does to go home, so the trip should be relatively enjoyable.

Okay, time to get back to slogging. By the way, I love that word. I was explaining to this Irish guy yesterday that when I hear 'slogging', I think of trench warfare; but both Indian English and UK/Ireland English treats 'slogging' as an appropriate synonym for 'hard work'. Maybe I read about 'slogging' in the trenches and thought it only applied to mud, lice, and mustard gas, but I have now learned that it also applies to corporate cubicle farms, excel spreadsheets, and subsistence diets. I intend to popularize this in the States, so please be prepared for the revolution when I return.