I have much to say. I'm sitting in class right now, so I may not have much time to write. But later, I will. I haven't been able to sleep. I can't sleep. I can't close my eyes. My mind is swimming. I've never been this way. Nothing can hinder Archana's sleep, not even the Apocalypse. Or so I thought. I think I've been holding a great deal in my heart and mind that needs to be expressed. It would be nice if that weren't the case, for example, if I could just not take anything seriously and let everything slide. But if I am to live life, I must at least pretend that things are getting to me. I must meditate soon upon the meaninglessness of life in order to center myself. I mean, I know it's all meaningless, but I want to revel in that for a few minutes sitting and breathing. Lately things have been so serious that I feel everything is ridiculous. Deep down, nothing matters.

The kinds of magical friendships that I want to have in my life are becoming clear to me now. I think something beautiful is expressed when I sing. It's colorful and bright like a peacock or a toucan and stately like a sugar maple. Hearts are the only things that matter.

I want to share love and make it grow until it explodes. I have come to see what Jordan has been feeling himself lately, but in my own way, of course. And there is no coincidence about it. It's just what life is trying to tell me that I'm finally able to hear.

I want to make something beautiful and from my heart to give to Eli and Alanna.

Perhaps I should thank life for this experience because it has awakened in me something close to pure love.

So mom wants me to sing all day, nothing but singing. So I'm perfectly content with that. I love to sing. And meditate. And draw and paint and surround myself with love. I must not only learn to entertain myself, which I have done for many years, but now I must take it a step further and learn to nourish my entire being with the light of love.

When you write stories, you coming up with reasons for why you are the way you are. I'm feeling drained. I wonder how much of this I can handle. I want so much to get out of here. Maybe it is easier than I think. Nothing is real; everything is possible.

I think I really do want to move out. I guess having my own space is important to me. I don't want to be so territorial, but it's impossible to share a space with others who are territorial. I wonder if I could find an apartment or sign a lease for only four months. I should really begin the search, diligently, too. I don't suppose I really even need the singing lessons. They certainly help, but in the end, it's my own practice that matters. She only guides me, and her guidance is wonderful. Especially because her guidance is often exactly what I'm thinking for myself. In that respect perhaps I know what's best for myself and could do without external guidance. Thus, if lessons become unfinanciable I would still be okay. If I cease to have support from el-parents-o, I'll still be okay because I have a few dollars to keep me alive for a while. I don't forsee that my parents and I will have a great rift since I know my father loves me. But if I successfully move out (let the aftermath determine the success), I'll have to contend with some diplomatic issues.

Not the least of those issues is my grandparents' relation to me. I do perceive that it could be possible to live alone, although it is not often done in this society. All that they seem to be concerned with is the way they will appear to their neighbors. Gotta save face, right? My business is everyone's business. Objectively, though, I suppose I'll also have to contend with various aunts and uncles who would have a problem, as well. In any case, if none of those issues bother me I should be fine. It shouldn't matter a whit to me what they do after that. I mean, I do care about them, but I need space. If those issues do become unmanageable, I may have to play a pretend game, saving up my money, using only theirs, and wearing the smiley-mask until I can get out. I wonder when exactly I can get out, though.

First I have to make sure there is a place where I could stay, somewhere close to Kotturpuram (if I want to keep going to classes). Maybe I'll search in Alwarpet or Abhiramapuram. Or Raja Annamalaipuram.

clarity only lasts for a second. i hate being melodramatic but i suppose that's the way it goes when you're in a new place. I found my peace in just not taking things so seriously, but i'm having trouble doing that here. and now i'm just tired. i wonder how i will feel after this sickness passes.

i feel pretty lost.

maybe i'll go to guindy and hang out there for a while. it may be nice just to rest under the trees.

peace

yesterday i woke up after a night of tossing and turning and intestinal pain. yesterday my best friend was abdul. after a morning of online business for three hours (spent largely on searching for an apartment), choco choco king at the ice cream parlor (to soothe my flaming insides), and delirious stumbling up and down the streets, i called abdul from a public phone. he had been waiting for my phone call, since i don't have my own phone. we decided to meet after lunch. i stumbled back to the first apartment for lunch, and wrote in here while browsing and chatting and downloading naruto manga 240 and 241. then i left, telling the rents that i would be at odyssey bookstore and then the other apartment to meditate, study japanese, and draw.

abdul took a while to arrive, unfortunately, in response to which i called him on the rents' cell. i had a feeling i shouldn't have done that in case they ask. i'll try to never do it again. but that's what I always say. his bus was running late due to traffic. so he came and sat next to me on the sidewalk in front of odyssey. he could sense i wasn't feeling well, and it was obvious, no doubt. we walked... i suggested guindy park because of the quiet and the trees, but he said, one should only go there once.

so we took a shady lane to besant nagar beach. i climbed one tree. approaching the beach we came across a thatched-roof village of fishermen. dogs and cats everywhere. on the other side of the village we took a dirt path in the blazing early-afternoon sun to a dilapidated stone bridge. dangling their legs over the edges, fishermen fished and lazed around. some fishermen waded through sternum-deep water with nets. abdul and i looked for fish. they were black and quick and bite-sized. we climbed down to the beach below. fishermen children were playing in the water. older brothers carried younger sisters into the water kicking and wailing with joy and fear. abdul and i tried to cross, but since we had no change of clothes, decided that it wasn't worth getting so wet. if it were the states, i told him, we could go naked, holding our clothes dry above our heads.

we headed back to a shady grove by a locked rusty gate armed with barb and thorny vines. we sat on the steps and talked about various things. marriage in different parts of the world, relationships in the states versus india, martial arts, healing, fair-weather friends, leechers, apartments. he told me of a beautiful guest house where his grandparents live in Kanchipuram, where he loves to go when his mind is not well. he mentioned this because mine was not well that day. i had been mulling relentlessly over how much i wanted to break free and live my own life without having to hide it from anybody. in any case, i was happy to be spending a nice peaceful time with someone, with a friend, with a friend with a good heart and sound mind. the peaceful guest house in kanchipuram was silent save the sounds of nature, and covered in trees which, he told me, no one would object to me climbing. he asked if i had a completely free day to visit. i replied, not until my parents are gone or until i get my own place. i can't exactly take off right now. so that will be at least february. less than two months away. i hope february is unbearably hot so that my father's parents leave sooner. or i must get my own place.

anyway. there's that. we headed back. i returned his tamil movies. that evening i dined at the first apartment. last night i slept like a slithering fish for almost 10 hours. i've been delirious all day, unable to understand how i managed to go to odyssey, sangeetha, and the other apartment and back. i had elanir. i bought a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle of a fantasy lighthouse on a rocky shore and an english grammar instruction book as a gift for abdul. It totalled about $20 USD. at the other apartment i sorted out some of the edge pieces and began working on the puzzle. i think i completed about one third of it. or maybe one fourth. Despite my delirium and constant nose-dripping, sneezing, and eye-watering, I worked quickly. This evening I was supposed to go to my teacher's concert but I'm so between consciousness and subconsciousness that if I were to sit for two hours or more in a chair surrounded by important people I would probably disgrace my teacher by falling asleep or drooling or loudly blowing my nose every thirty seconds. Mom was smart to not insist on my coming. I just made some Maggi noodles, which reminded me of Jeff and Ramen. I have a slight fever.

I've hung out with Abdul maybe five times now. Three nights ago, Alanna and Eli left for Cochin. The night before that, Alanna, Eli, Abdul and I hung out in the other apartment. It will be the last time Abdul comes in there because the watchmen are getting too nosy and disapproving. We watched a comedy Tamil movie while Eli slept. Then we shared pictures and talked and it got to be too late for Abdul to walk back. I suggested he sleep here and leave early in the morning. So he slept on the couch, and I slept on the tile floor, despite Abdul's pleas to the contrary. Upon his request, in the darkness, I sang a few lines of Yevarura, which he liked very much. His cell phone's alarm rang at six and I turned it off, waiting for him to move first. I heard some rustling a few minutes later, and saw him adjusting the fan speed because he was cold. I said, how did you know I was cold? He said, 'because I know how my friends are feeling.' Then he appended, 'because I was cold too.' After drinking a glass of water, he high-tailed it out of there in two shakes.

I found out yesterday that the watchman had accosted him and told him not to stay over for a night again. It's standard routine. A girl can't have a guy over. It's strictly not allowed. At least the watchman didn't tell my mom about it when she came back to kick Eli and Alanna out that night. He told her something about a boy staying there, and my mom said, yes, that must have been Eli. Phew. If it weren't for Eli being male, I would not be alive right now. I won't be that careless again. That night after Alanna and Eli left, I came back to the other apartment to argue with my mom about letting me stay there from then on. She wasn't having it. She caused a big, loud scene which everybody heard and peeked out their windows to witness. I just calmly tried to extricate the keys out of her hand. She threatened to hit me, but I threatened to hit her back. I'm stronger than her anyway. But that wouldn't have been smart because in this backasswards god-forsaken place, people would side with my mom. So anyway, I managed to get her to at least unlock the apartment so that I could get my things for that night and the next day. I had been trying to move all my stuff out of the first apartment and into the other apartment in the hopes that i could use that as an excuse for letting me sleep there once Alanna and Eli left. I got some things. Mom and Patti had seemed to cool down. I think it's safe to say that I don't love them anymore. But I think about it now, and I realize that I don't hate them. I just basically don't feel anything toward them but slight resentment, which will fade.

Why do I want my own apartment anyway? So that I can get out from under the thumb and not have to fabricate stories of where I've been. They wouldn't approve of the truth (hanging out with Abdul sometimes). But even today, I lied about what I did. I didn't tell them I bought a jigsaw puzzle and worked on it for a few hours because I just didn't want them to question me about how much it cost and why I'm doing it in the other apartment and why I didn't rest today because I'm still sick. I told Abdul that if I were a parent, I would be so open with my kids, allow them to talk about anything with me, anything at all. Because the last thing I want is for them to fear me. I want them to love me and learn from me. And they can't learn from me if I don't go out and have experiences of my own right now. I almost wish I did more "bad" things as a child just for the experience to share with my future children (if I have them). There's a direct argument against being a good ideal child. I renounce that cultural myth completely.

And plus, my parents are completely ridiculous. If I can't even talk to them about all the amazingly benign life experiences I've grown and learned from, they failed as parents. All I get from them right now is financial security. If I could support myself (which remains to be calculated/determined) I wouldn't need them at all. It would be a little sad, of course, leaving them because they'd be left wondering why I did that, completely in the dark. But why fight the battle if it can be delayed and made as short and as painful as possible? Is that cowardice? Well... if I have to go purely on experience, the only one I have to look to is my sister's. I don't know what will happen, if she and her future husband will be happy or what, but right now I don't think it was worth it to have fought against our parents about Mike and then end up having to leave him. Especially if you hold resentment in your heart forever afterwards. You can never say "how might it have been" because that doesn't exist. You will never know. I guess that's why I love that movie "The Notebook." So no, I don't think it's cowardice to postpone and minimize the fight. I wonder if by moving out, though, I would actually be exacerbating the situation. Maybe I should wait until the last minute to fight, which would be after college is over. But really, I don't even care about that, either. I wouldn't mind working to support myself. If all I need to be concerned with is money, that's nothing. I will always have money. As you can see, I'm still weighing the pros and cons of moving out. As long as I just don't make it a big deal, things will be fine.

[email to a friend]

things are better. I have a great story to share. I've been hanging out with this poor muslim dude named abdul. he's great. i feel like he's the brother i never had. we've been hanging out often, 3 times this week. we go to the beach, or to some monument, or a park and just hang out or whatever. or we walk around until we're too tired.. and i try to talk in tamil, and he tries to understand me and learn some english. and i try to teach him some english. it's nice.

so last we hung out he brought his bike. we decided to go visit a mountaintop where there's a church. so i get on the back basket type thing and he pedals. after some time, we switch.. it's a pretty long way there but we get there and it's beautiful. and we have to climb up to get to the church. we're already so tired from biking and it's hot and we're all sweaty and tired and running out of water. but we make it up there.. the chennai domestic/international airport is just a few leaps and bounds away. there are a bunch of people sitting under some shady trees watching the planes take off and land. they're all so interested in that.. we get a great view of chennai from above on that hill.

after some time we decide to go to his house. he never wanted to invite me.. but he said his parents told him if i'm close by that he should bring me by. and i had been wanting to go.. to see where he lives. so we bike to his house. it's in a village of thatched roofs and very narrow dirt paths, the thatched-roof houses scrunched up so close to one another and clothes drying on lines everywhere. it was just lovely. i had often fantasized about what it must be like to live in that kind of a place, and now i can! because i have a friend who does! so we hung out at his house. it had two little rooms separated by a half-wall. the ceiling was probably 10 feet high, and it was mostly dark. as you walk in, you enter the kitchen, which measured probably.. hmm.. i'm trying to measure it.. six feet by six feet. Then there's a half wall, and another room 10 feet long and again the same 6 feet wide, with a cot shoved up against one end, a computer system on the left, and a stereo system on the right. and there's a path from the kitchen through that room to a little washing area surrounded by red bricks with some stamped brandname on them.

he lives with his mom and dad, and it makes me wonder... where does everyone sleep? three people can't fit on that cot. someone must sleep on the floor or something. probably abdul sleeps on the floor and his parents squeeze together on the cot. anyway. so i brought my laptop and showed it to them.. played some music (311, nobukazu takemura, nirvana, some other stuff) and some naruto (anime series)...

then four of his friends came over.. they were all either college graduates or college students. some were looking for jobs, and trying to help abdul out because he just lost his job. anyway, i hope that went well. it was interesting to hear him talk to his friends, i pretty much understood everything. then i tried talking to his friends.. they were very nice and a little shy, but sweet nonetheless. anyway. one of them is learning violin and asked me what songs i was currently singing. i told him, i'm way beyond all that, i'm now learning kalpana (improvisation). hehe. he was cute, though. i should have asked him what songs he was learning. hehe. anyway..

so after they left, it was time for me to go. so abdul rode me back on his bike. and i was holding on tight to his waist so as not to fall off. i'm not very good at it yet, i can't hang on without holding onto the driver. and i was just thinking.. man.. everytime i hang out with this dude, i feel closer and closer, and i just wanna hug him and call him my brother and make him stuff and just... i dunno. share the love, you know? but i'm always like that with people i like a lot. yeah. it was a cool feeling. i am not one to immediately think that everyone is my soulmate or anything... far from it. but even in the US i haven't met anyone who has been this nice. i mean people are nice, but not this sincere. i haven't offered him anything, and yet he has offered me his TIME! and his company.. and his help in finding places here. and his help in saving me from the throes of depression. all i have to do is call him up and say, hey, i have a free few hours, let's hang out and he's here in about an hour. and everytime afterwards he tells me, next time please call me 2 hours before you want to hang out, that will be more convenient for me, but i never do. because if i have any free time whatever, it's NOW. or never. i feel a little bad about that.. but that's how it is.. since i have to hide from people in order to hang out with him.

i haven't been hiding enough, though.. because all the people who hang out around where my grandparents live (which is where i'm staying) have been watching me and see where i go and what i do all the time. they know about this BOY. and ME. and have seen us together in various places in this town. heheh.. and have told my mom about it, too. even though i continually lie to her about where i am and where i've been. so i found this out yesterday she came and talked to me about it and told me how upset she was. and that she SAW me on the bike holding onto this boy she was so totally shocked and confused. and all i could do was laugh and shrug. and i told her flat out, yeah, i lied because i can't tell you anything, mom, because you don't understand me and we have a very noncommunicative relationship. and she gives me this whole spiel about how her family has a very good name and is very well known around here and very respected and i'm bringing down the family name.

and i said, well, sorry, i have friends, maybe you should meet them sometime instead of being so afraid. and she said, no you can't be friends with people like that, with poor people off the street. and i said, but he's not just anyone, he's really a friend. (and that, i tell you, is the truth). and she said but all these people just want to be your friend because you're from america and they know you have money and they'll ask things of you, etc etc etc.. okay they probably are my friends because i'm american, but they haven't asked for my money, or for anything! damn straight i'm american and i'm proud to be one if these are the kinds of awesome people i get to meet. well i didn't say that: all i said was they haven't asked anything of me.

and she said but they're boys, i know boys, they will take advantage of you at any moment. okay, well. that's definitely not true because i could break abdul in two with my bare hands he's so thin and emaciated. and also i'm not stupid and i'm not helpless. but i'm also not afraid.

and no matter what my mom said to make me afraid of her, i wasn't.. i was completely and totally calm. and surprised at myself that i could hold my own ground without really holding anything.. just breathing and being. anyway, she said she was going to call dad and tell him all about it, and if dad was going to side with me, that she was going to get a divorce and i could then do whatever i wanted, and i said, great, that's fine with me.

hehehe.. she's so ridiculous. and then she cursed out my friends alanna and eli who came to visit me.. like horribly.. horrible bad tamil curse words that she used to use on me when i was little. "my mom is just a baby" i thought. so i underwent that horrible storm of meanness too.. my dear friends being cursed out by my mom BEHIND THEIR BACKS. she has no backbone. she would never do it in person. i hope i never turn out like her. i'll take her good points, though.. and so i sighed and said, okay call dad and see what he says, i dunno, and i went to study japanese.

then today she mumbled something to me about being sorry for what she said yesterday and how much i enjoy carnatic music how could she have said what she said blah blah blah. hahaha.. so stupid. if i just sit still and watch all the crap that goes on around me it's comical. whatever.

i want so badly to show all my friends how much i love and cherish their friendships. but it's so hard to do that when my parents and family are so unforgiving and hate all my friends. the least i can do is be a good host, is be a good friend... in return for the kindness i've been shown, but i can't even do that much because... you see how hard it is? when my friends call and she yells at them on the phone to never call again, or when they come over and she tells them they have to leave the next day? it's like.. impossible... i will be punished in my next life for this... but it's not my fault... it's just my fate to have this kind of difficulty, i guess. so anyway, i cherish yours, [friend's name], and even if i am never able to physically show it or whatever, you ought to know that. thanks for listening..

Yesterday I called Abdul to tell him about the incident after we hung out that day at the church and his house. Not that it was bothering me a great deal but still it felt good to finally call him and talk to him. It's been over a week now since we hung out together mainly because I've been going to concerts every night but also because I'm not too keen on going anywhere after the last incident.

So far I've been able to find at least one thing that I like during each concert I attend. I've also noticed while practicing that I can reach low notes if I first sing some high ones. Maybe my voice opens up more when I sing higher. I always thought it was the other way around. In fact, that's how it used to be. I think it's still sort of the case that I need to warm my voice up a little bit more after singing high in order to sing low. But sometimes I can't reach the low notes if I stay there too long. To fix that I sing some really high notes and return to the low feeling more open and relaxed. Anyway.. just some things I've noticed about my voice. Also: the breaking point for me between head voice and chest voice is around thara sthayi rishabham/gandharam... when I sing at five and a half. Playing around with this point today I realized that I can make the transition smooth if I soften my voice a little and make it slightly nasal when I pass between thara sthayi rishabham and gandharam. That's the only area that I need to soften my voice to not yodel. I wonder if there's another solution, though... one where I don't have to modulate so much. I guess I'll keep trying.

Today I went to Laya Madhuraa again. I think it was their final show this season. It wasn't four hours like the last show but a nice reasonable two. They performed four or five songs that I knew pretty well. I got to experience a little bit what it must feel like to know a lot of karnatic music and recognize tunes during concerts. I am not sure if I really like the feeling. I can imagine it getting ...not monotonous .. but mind-numbing, perhaps.. so that you stop listening to every note and only hear what you want to hear: i.e. what sounds different from the norm or your favorite part. But that's not to say that I particularly like the feeling of listening to a song for the first time, either. I always try to imagine what it would be like to have new ears all the time... for a different experience. Also my mind is never completely clear, and that gets on my nerves at times. It impedes attention.

Tonight I saw Unnikrishnan. Last night was T.N. Krishnan and children. Man... everyone is so brilliant. I have heard so much music in the past week or so that I'm not sure I even understand fully what it means anymore. Not that I ever understood it fully, but now I realize that I don't. I'm getting more and more acquainted with the music and my ears are growing more accustomed, no doubt. But as far as being able to perform that way .. or think the way they think.. I think I would need to get a new brain.

I don't want to change myself in order to understand how to create this kind of music. But I think I will need to. I guess what I mean is I don't want to be typical. Okay, why do I feel that way? I can't be typical even if I try. I will never be "Indian" enough to be a great karnatic singer (since so much of the music is rooted in Indian culture). I suppose that's what strikes me as disheartening when I'm trying my best to sing well. To think well. I think I'll have to be Indian in order to sing well... I'll have to get more involved in the culture and make friends and practice with others. And this is okay with me. I don't think I have a problem with it, except that I don't want my family to be involved in it at all. I don't want to see my mom or my dad or my grandparents on either side.

And why is that? I'll tell you. Because they would ruin it for me. They ruin everything that they can get their grubby hands on. That's why I often try to do what they can't understand or what they have to go to great lengths to accept. If they weren't so easy to figure out I wouldn't act this way. But they are. And it makes me sick. They've been the same all my life. Never grew or evolved or learned anything new that changed the way they think.

Well if I'm complaining about them being the same... have I changed? Is it easy for myself to change? What would I do to prove to myself that I can change? Is it a good thing to want to change? If I am unhappy with other people precisely because they're so predictable, then why don't I try to be a little less predictable myself? The simple answer would be to actually do what my parents want for a change. Whatever. It's not worth it to me. I can't care about what other people want. The first thing that is important to me is what I want. I'm selfish to the core. I take care of myself first and then others. That's not to say that I never think of others, I just think of them after myself. Hehe. I am merely telling the truth. I'm not going to pretend to be modest, because I think trying to be modest when you aren't is even worse than admitting you're selfish. And anyway it's bloody obvious that I am selfish because all I ever write about is myself and my mind and health and body and thoughts and friends and wishes and dreams. I'm probably wrong, too. It's probably not even true that I think of myself first. Because I remember times when I sincerely thought of other people first. But during all those times I was content and happy in myself. Once I have nothing to worry about for myself, I automatically radiate outwards and care only about others.

But back to what I was saying before... I think it's interesting to try to figure out what it is exactly that I don't like about my parents. This might be part of it: I don't think they know anything about me because they have so many of their own prejudices that they don't care about my experiences growing up.. so they are distant from me in that big way. All they ever seem to care about is whether or not their fears have been knocked up, i.e. whether or not anything has happened that goes against their book. This drives me nuts. I feel like they're already a bunch of grannies, so traditional and old-fashioned and boring and impossible to talk to or experience life with. Therefore to live my life in a way that even remotely makes them happy makes me sick to my stomach. I am constantly looking to expand myself and be bigger and better and stronger and more open-minded. I don't need the energies of my parents clouding my view and my life. That also means that I don't need to let anything they say or think affect me. The fact of the matter is, though, that I've adopted many of their energies, so that before I even do anything, I immediately think about my parents' wishes and feel horribly discouraged. And then proceed, as is also my habit, to think of ways to evade them so that I can still do the thing I want.

It's hard to rid myself of habit-energies that I've kept all my life! I just want to act from the sound heart and mind that I know I have, without these obstructing unnecessary thoughts.

When it comes right down to it, each event that happens is a doorway to a new beginning. Yes, I can sit here and mull things over, but action is the proof of a behavioral change. And my way of doing things is to think things over, decide on my frame of mind, and lie in wait until the next golden opportunity. Life is wonderfully forgiving in that way!

This whole thing makes me want to email Gary Kendall.

I guess what I've learned implicitly from living with my parents is to award myself whenever I do something that my parents are blown away by, rather than accept their praise. And so I've always envisioned myself in the future as being so completely "out-there" and eccentric (and still really cool, too, hehe) that my parents will never understand me and I can just go my own way with my own little fan club.

But I can't decide on my frame of mind yet. I don't know... it's not coming to me. This time. I distinctly remember the first time when I tried this technique.. it was after the whole Rich scandal. I decided that I would never let anything make me upset as to try to manipulate other people, that I would remain calm always and remind myself that I don't know the whole story, and that anything that is worth it is also worth waiting for because we have infinity to spare. And so all my actions from that point onward reflected those thoughts.

I think the future I would like to envision instead is one where I don't care what other people think, and still continue to live the life that my heart desires, unaffected by those external habit-energies. Even if that means getting married. Even if that means having a child. Even if that means getting an office job. Even if that means taking trips for a few months out of the year to mountaineer. Even if that means teaching karnatic music. Even if that means learning Tamil and making Indian friends and getting completely immersed in the culture so that I can learn karnatic music better. *Sigh*... even if that means living such a completely "normal" and what I would have considered a boring life. Even if my parents approve of it. *Gasp* I can't imagine that. I have a lot of growing up to do before I reach that point.

But even now, not everything that I do is something my parents wouldn't approve of. They love the fact that I go to college and am good at computers and sing karnatic music (especially!) and I still continue to do those things. Yeah, and not everything that they don't approve of is done merely for the sake of winning their disapproval. Like.. I don't hang out with Abdul to make them mad. Haha.. that's silly. I do have my own life and mind and energies that .. probably (I'd like to say) do most of the work. I'm not a mere puppet of this parental bullshit. In fact I may have just blown that whole thing out of proportion. But that kind of thing tends to happen when you delve really deeply into something. Well at least now I'm looking at this other side of it, too, which puts it in perspective.

Meh who knows if getting completely immersed in the culture is what my parents would want anyway. They'd probably be happier if I stayed at home and lived a more uneventful life, so as not to taint their perfect precious little reputation. And anyway anything I do will be done in my own way, which in itself is full of things to disapprove of. Yeah I don't think I have much to worry about in the way of my parents. I should just follow my heart and mind.

How do I begin? Today I attended two concerts again, Geetha Rajasekar and Nedunuri Krishnamoorthy. I can't even remember Geetha aunty's concert... and I can't really remember much of any of the previous ones I've been to in the last twelve days.. much less beyond that. I think I wrote yesterday that I feel like I know so little about karnatic music after all these concerts I've been to.. and now I feel like I know nothing. Absolutely nothing. But within that nothingness, I can still appreciate the music. I can still appreciate reaaal music, even though it leaves me speechless. I feel like doing anything is completely futile if it isn't done with 120% heart and soul. But how much of life is spent doing things with almost no heart or soul? What is to be said of those things? Are they any less important than the ones that are done with heart and soul? No.. everything is equally unimportant. But I never want to sing again! Not unless I really feel something and really really WANT to sing. Not unless I can't keep my voice quiet because it longs so much to sing. But at the same time, I know that I have to keep singing no matter what, even if I don't want to, even if I want nothing more than NOT to.. in order to get better. *Sigh* What is to be done? (Chernyshchevsky) I dunno. Well. Life goes on...

I don't think I can much stand it any longer! I have to hang out with Abdul again soon! It's been too long! I miss his company.

Alanna and Eli must have left India this morning for Bahrain. Barhain? It's kind of a nice day today, still hot and humid as ever. It's the first Christmas I've spent in such a hot place.

Today we're supposed to see Seshagopalan at Krishna Gana Sabha, but I don't really want to go. I'm not that excited. Mom wants to see him so badly she could explode. After hearing Nedanuri Krishnamoorthy I can't imagine sitting for longer than five minutes to listen to anyone sing. Like I said, I can't even remember what the hell I heard the past few weeks at all these sabhas. *Sigh* All right, I'm off. I'll do Japanese while I'm there.

Today Geetha aunty taught me a little differently. We sang the Saveri varnam and then she told me to practice Lathangi ragam without stopping while she left to go do something. So I did, pretending like it was just the normal thing to do. Then when she came back, I was just about done, and I sang it again from the beginning for her while she helped and corrected me. After that I sang the song Marivere and improvised swaram. She would hop in here and there when I couldn't think of a nice thing to sing. After that she told me to sing Mohanam ragam without stopping while she left to go do something. So I did, pretending like it was just the normal thing to do and even enjoying this new pattern. Then when she came back, I was just about done, and I sang it again from the beginning for her while she helped and corrected me.

We didn't get to finish because there was a flood threat from the river just a few meters up from the house. There had been a major earthquake somewhere in Malaysia this morning at around 6, 6:30. I felt it in my bed while I was trying to ignore the awakening world. The bed kept rocking and I was getting annoyed. I tried to stop the rocking by sticking my foot out and anchoring the bed with the floor, but the floor was moving just like the bed. Soon after, Mom came and told me we have to leave the house. Without thinking, I grabbed my laptop (you!) and stuck it in my bag and carried it downstairs. Then I thought about Oh my CD's too! but oh well I'll just hope this isn't a big deal.

As I was climbing down the stairs, it occurred to me that the worst thing to do was to be outside during an earthquake. Since there's no basement shelter, you should be somewhere up high, like in the apartment where we WERE. So anyway, I sat down outside with my bag and listened to the commotion for a while, then got bored and went back upstairs and into the apartment. I trusted that it wouldn't be a big deal and wanted to know where the center of the seismic activity was. The tremors stopped and I went to singing class. After the flood threat (thankfully it was after our class was pretty much done anyway), we watched television news to find out the current happenings. Turns out the sea was rolling into Tiruvanmyur, Pondicherry, and Marina Beach (and some other places that I don't know). Everything subsided after high tide and things returned to normal. Five people died in Chennai or something. Oh yeah, and MS Subbulakshmi (the great singer) died, too, a week or so ago. Blah.

Okay, so I was saying about my little singing lessons and then got sidetracked by major disasters and death. I think I liked what we did today. It was just what I needed: some time to reflect on the ragam before presenting it to my teacher. And during the reflection time, some time to openly just sing whatever I feel like. It's not so easy to let myself do that even when I'm singing by myself without no one around, let alone during class with my teacher. But somehow I was more forgiving today during class without my teacher around. Haha. Perhaps that's what I need. Or maybe I'm only forgiving there because I'm used to being creative during class. I'm not used to practicing kalpana swaram and alapanai on my own at home. In the same way I'm not used to practicing Tai Chi on my own at home but as soon as my master leaves the room (when I'm in class) I become infinitely more determined to make energy and concentrate. I ought to learn how to pretend like even when I'm at home, I should have the same discipline that I do in class. I think I need to set my goals even higher than what my teachers have set for me. I was thinking today about all this and I realized that the only teacher I've ever had who has had even higher expectations for me than myself, is (my Tai Chi) Master Che. In fact, even my parents don't have expectations for me as high as I have for myself. I suppose that is kind of strange. It's just that I feel like what they want for me is so shallow compared to what I want for myself. and for all humanity. And so therefore I tend to be condescending toward my parents and treat them like idiots who don't know anything. Sometimes. I could imagine myself turning into a really eccentric and stupid crack who thinks he's "brilliant" and whom everyone thinks is "brilliant." Yuck. So I'm trying to notice these tendencies in myself and stop them before they get out of control.

This afternoon a whole crowd of people came over and hung out in this room. It was nuts. First it was just one aunt (Latha chitti?) and I sang a few songs for her. Then her sister came, too, and I kept singing. Then a whole crowd of people, including some children arrived, bounding through the door.

A girl acclaimed by the local newspaper as 'child prodigy' named Sruti came and sang Shobillu. I think she's going to be the next Britney Spears. She's 9. She gave a concert and sang some seventeen different ragams in eighty-five minutes or something. She also plays violin, piano, does ballet, sings in the school choir, and a number of other things, securing her title as 'prodigy'. After hearing her sing, I wondered if all the other things she does are done as poorly. I suppose poorly is a little harsh. But I think I mean poorly in terms of spirit not skill or ability.

And then some of the other kids sang, too. Vignesh and Mridula whined the first part of a song before breaking down with excuses of "I forgot the rest" and "I don't feel like singing." I suppose I am being a little harsh.. but according to me, there's no point in doing anything if you don't want to. Just don't do it at all. It saves you and everyone else embarrassment and headaches. I mean, I used to be like them in that if someone asked me to sing for them, I would be incredibly shy and not want to do it. Then eventually, I'd stop blushing and just do it. But I would sing with spirit and when I would finish, I would despair that they wouldn't ask me to sing again. They probably thought I didn't want to, because I probably still didn't give off any impression that I wanted to. It was always that after I sang one song, I would be in the mood to sing another one. But these kids didn't seem shy at all. Just immensely stubborn and bored.

I don't think these kids have experienced music's beauty. Okay, yeah, they're just kids, but still! You can feel spirit. It's not about ability and skill when you're young, anyway. No adult looks for that in a child. They only look for spirit. So I didn't see any spirit. And their parents like ringmasters kept interrupting their song to say oh you sound so disheartened sing with more enthusiasm, etc.

The parents should just completely stop telling their children to sing. Because you have to like music before you begin to make it, and because parents are big role-models in this culture, the parents should just revel in music themselves, making it, or listening to it and enjoying it as they normally do. So if the parents stopped their nagging, the kids would rejoice thinking that their parents forgot that they even had music lessons. After a few days or something, they might grow suspicious and ask, aren't you going to tell me to practice music now? At which point you could either act incredulous like "you mean you haven't been practicing?" or nonchalant: "why should I have to tell you to do it? if you want to, you will. do i tell you when it's time to play?" or better still, encouragingly ask them to just listen to your favorite song. Just like you would a friend. I think the best thing would be to play music yourself and play with such enjoyment that they can see your enjoyment and enjoy it too. I mean, if they do. If they don't enjoy it, that's a different thing. There should be no forcing of music-making.

But what about other hobbies? Like soccer or something. Well that's a social sport, you can't really get good at it by playing yourself. And the social aspect of it keeps it interesting, I think. Aha! Then I think music should also have a lot of social aspects in it. HOW much I crave making music with people these days. I just want to hang out in someone's house where there is music all the time and people playing and listening and singing and whatever... All the time. How wonderful that would be! How quickly we would all improve, too!

I thought today about inspiration and teaching and learning and doing and that there's no point to life if you aren't living from your heart, from your soul, from the depths of your spirit. Just how there's this drive to follow society's path of making money, and becoming a scholar, and studying, and doing everything you do really well, and becoming great, and getting on tv, and being popular, etc.. that I'm aware of, but that I can't touch. That can't touch me. Those goals don't mean anything to me. I began to think about all this after my grandfather told me that I sang excellently today and asked me to grow my hair. He said there should be a little give and take. Like, okay, you sing well, now grow your hair. Where's the give and take in that? I should have had the nerve to say, hey, at least I'm singing, for that you should let me keep my hair the way I want. But that's ridiculous, too, for three reasons: I don't need permission, I don't care what they think, and I'm not singing for them. Sorry, no compromises here, buddy. He kept talking about the family name and how other people won't like it and how if I go out and sing with that short hair it will make the family look bad. Haha.

I think he just doesn't want his name to be tainted by my short hair. I should just shave it all off tonight. It's a little on the long side anyway. I can't wait to tell Abdul about all this stuff. I just want to know what he thinks. Just for the hell of it. To see if he backs me up or if he shares their opinion. Either way I'll respect what he thinks. Anyway, I know I shouldn't let any of these things bother me. It's beginning to. So much of the time I just want to run away from here and get my own apartment. And go bald again. But I don't want to do anything out of the desire to escape or run away from something. I want to do everything from the heart only. So, in that case, I have to put up with it and just let it all slide (are those two things opposites?). See it as interesting artifacts of a 21st Century traditional Brahmin family with a semi-powerful reputation in the locality living in an apartment built on the land where their grand house once stood.

It's been exactly two months since I got here. There are four months left. How does it feel? It feels like it has been a long time. But it also feels about right. I finally got to see Abdul yesterday! We met at the Gandhi Mandapam. I got there first, and waited. A black dog with red eyes barked at me and kept following me. So I tried to get out of that side of the park without it following me. After that, I was a little shaken up. I dunno. Usually dogs around here are pretty anemic or comatose. That one must have been well fed or something. And crazy.

So I had been excited to see Abdul, but after the dog incident I just sort of sighed and kept eyeing that direction. I ended up sitting near the entrance. I suppose if I had spent that time waiting for Abdul meditating rather than fussing around with phone numbers and addresses that I had recently added to my book, I might have been a little more at ease. I suppose if people weren't staring at me all the time, too, that would have helped. I don't know what it is. Sometimes people stare. They look at me, and keep walking past and turning around and staring until they're completely out of sight. Sometimes people just glance at me like they glance at a tree and continue about their business.

So I told Abdul about how I just feel like I think completely differently from the rest of my family, and that it is exasperating for me to have to live with them. Once I even said, "isn't my situation so hard?" and I regretted saying that immediately after, because I thought of countless even worse situations. But his response was, "even being in jail is better than your situation. You'd be locked up but they'd give you food three times a day and you can just wander around the prison like a free bird. In your house it seems like you're obligated to do so many useless things for other people." I had to laugh. He made a good point, though, and I stopped regretting what I had said. He talked about how cool his parents were compared to mine. That was nice to hear. He's proud of his family--his immediate family. Here, if you say "family" it doesn't include distant relatives. It's only your siblings and parents, and children if you have any. I wish I didn't have to keep dwelling on my hardships, but I'm glad I talked it out with someone finally.

Abdul kept saying also that he wanted to learn multimedia software... but personally, I think it's better to learn programming languages. He could learn Flash, and get a bit of both that way. He's trying to get into a course on some kind of software multimedia thing with his friend. I hope that goes well. He needs a job, though, too. It's so funny... I told him I was going to take an auto back home so that I could go quickly, but he said "no no no!! you can't! it's such a waste of money when you can just walk, it's only half a kilometer." I can understand his point of view, but to me, it's only 20 rupees, which is less than fifty cents. Heh. I mean, it's SO nothing. But it's a lot in India. You can buy dinner for that much. If I am to be his friend, I have to learn to see things from his perspective, too, which is so vastly different from mine in some ways. This is a minor difference, though. We agree on big picture viewpoints, which I think is important. And he helps me see them. I can't be friends with people like my family members.. with their kind of life-view.

Okay I have to go to my teacher's concert now. Bye.