If You're Happy And You Know It

I've been informed, after writing my last post, that, based on its content, those who love me might be worried. I'd like to clarify, then: I wrote the last post, not as a cry for help, but simply as a statement of fact: I've watched a lot of movies recently. And I've cried a lot while watching them.

That is not to say, though, that I'm sad. I love it here, I really do, and have at least one "I'm so glad I came" moment a day, even if it's only taking the chance to laugh at something ridiculous. But culture shock still manages to raise its ugly head, even through all that love, and sometimes--frequently, in the month of January, which for some reason was a particularly bad one--I just need to hide in my room, with my cell phone off and the DVD player on, and give vent to all the frustrations that build up from day to day, all the irritation I often feel at slow public transactions, naughty students, nosy neighbors, maids who pressure me to eat and then, while I'm eating, stand beside me and point at other things I should be eating, men who yell vulgar things at me on the street, men who yell "mister! mister! misTER!" at me on the street, hot weather, waking up early, gym employees who insist on standing two feet away from the treadmill and watching me jog, my total lack of independence, slow internet connections, flooded streets, languages I don't understand, jokes I don't get, indoor smoking in public places, constant stomach sickness, mud, trash, rats, and cockroaches.

Besides, if you look at my movie list, I'm not exactly choosing films of sunshine and light; even the happiest person might, I think, break down at murdered Jews, resistance fighters, airplane passengers, slum residents, nineteen-year-old girls, and Spanish children. So never fear, those who love me: I'm happy. And I know it. And for those who hate me, I'm sorry for this post. You may feel free to ignore it and go back to imagining me alone, in the dark, and crying my eyes at the totally curable testicular cancer of a fictional character. It beats therapy.