The Descent of Spring

Since my last post, a lot has happened. I ate 17 Cadbury's Creme Eggs this Easter, I met another love of my life and promptly lost interest in him, and Christ rose again and saved mankind. Yes, it has been a giddy and gleeful time.

Unfortunately, only one part is true: I did convince myself that I had feelings for someone, particularly while I was sick, and drove myself nuts by alternately sobbing with angst, and putting on a brave face (i.e. nurturing a solid martyr complex). It was pretty horrible, but I attribute a fair amount to my being ill and to my own stupidity in shifting from "detached with zero expectations" to "destined to be together" in half a minute. I did realize, however, that impatience is one of my besetting sins; I despise waiting for people to respond, and I equally loathe waiting for myself to get over my own emotions. Still, I figure that these are experiences I should have undergone at age 14, and 8 years later, I'm well overdue for my sentimental education.

Other things that took place:
1. Dave Eggers came to do a local reading, which was very interesting. He's writing a new "novelized biography" of one of the lost boys of Sudan. I enjoyed his actual reading, but was suspicious about the authenticity of his voice - how can you be sure that a boy raised in Africa will employ the same intonations, metaphors, and humour of a Westerner? But Dave Eggers himself was amusing and highly appealing to the hordes of undergrads who turned out. He has an easygoing manner.
2. Reza came back from Iran. He seemed mellower than he had been for months, which is great. He’s in the midst of job applications.
3. Christoph returned from an extended trip to Hawaii, Miami, Spain, and Switzerland. We kept missing each other for about 3 days, but then as I was heading to my room after work one evening, I heard him call out “is that Adithi coming upstairs?” and felt like I found my friend all over again. I forgot how fond I am of this housemate, with his sunny outlook on life and his ginger hair spilling everywhere. Mike came over for dinner that night (soba noodles with spaghetti sauce, a vile combination), and the three of us passed the evening laughing and chatting together as we sat in the garden under the full moon. The best part was when I caught Christoph’s eye as we enjoyed a moment of private amusement at Mike’s extraordinary eloquence on F. Scott Fitzgerald. It was a sign of renewal, and it made me thankful for the days when I come back to a house filled with candlelight, shared frozen dinners, and warm conversation.
4. Took my sister to see La Traviata at the MET. It was amazing, albeit a touch too long -- every time I thought Violetta was finally going to pass, she opened her mouth and let loose another aria, which was highly irritating. But the music was exquisite. When they juxtaposed Alfredo and Violetta’s pieces in Act I (the aria called sempre libera), I was thoroughly romanced by the sweetness of the whole thing. My sister said that the experience was made better by my being there. She’s a sport.
5. Went to CT, hung out with the family, saw Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, had paroxysm of laughter, went to see Abba musical, came home. As lame as the musical’s plotline was (my mother loves Abba and it was in honour of her birthday), the songs themselves were a lot of fun. The thing with Abba is that you just can’t get away from the fact that you know the lyrics to Dancing Queen and Voulez-Vous. And as my mother’s philosophy goes: don’t fight it. So I cheered as they lustily performed Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (I mean, who doesn’t want a man after midnight?), but drew the line at I Have a Dream because it’s a fundamentally irksome ballad that makes me want to slap everyone within arm’s reach.

Little else to report. I had a drink with Bob last night, which was fun – mostly because he’s a kindred spirit (i.e. sheepish intellectual who doesn’t look blank when I make a joke) and a very kind person to boot. Work is busy but good, and spring in Princeton has restored balm to my soul – all the pink-and-white-blossom pageantry is enchanting. Although, to be perfectly frank, I’m sort of lost without the chip on my shoulder that winter misery made necessary. It’s awfully hard to maintain my usual veneer of bitter resentment towards the world when all I want to do is tuck a posy behind my ear. It’s a tough life, to be sure. ;)