Letters to Amiga Pt. 1

It's 9:30 in the morning and I have my cup of coffee in my hand and my leg is numb. I'm sitting here thinking of how much I envy/admire/am proud of my friend Janan for being in New York. On my way to work (yes, the driver takes me to work--bourgeois life suits us all don't it?) I was reading this book called "Creative Reckoning" by Jessica Winengar. Excellent book. Very much written in the complex and sensitive way that Tim Mitchell writes his books in. And then I realize that this Jessica person was a student of Abu-Lughod and was like "Excellent! At least I know what passes as a good student of Abu-Lughods" so I have models to compare to.

The discrepancy of the desire to be in Jessica Winengar's shoes (not her's per se, but what she represents--grad student working in a vibrant anthropological environment under one of the professors I have great respect for) while I'm constantly reminded that I'm in the middle of Egyptian traffic (and largely, Egypt with all its burdens) possibly captured something representative of my thought process (about the future) in that moment.

Speaking of next year, I got my medical appointment set at the Military Office here for Nov. 6. They say that I should find out if I will get exempted that same day or a day or two after. I'm trying to hurry up my visa procedures so I have all the necessary paper work done. I think I might have had enough with the military and visa and all that. It's exhausting. And not because the military offices are bithces (they are at times, but its easily handle-able). Its because I really am tired to repeating the story to everyone I hear everyday. My story seems so powerfully reduced to this simple equation (Columbia, military, and work).

And the thing is, its not like I'm not exploring the world y'know. I'm out there. I was at the Stadium yesterday watching an Ahly match. The week before I went to a cabaret. I spent eid touring Sinai extensively (I almost circled it). But there's something that just keeps saying (and its getting louder which scares me) there's not much here for you right now. And I don't want to give in to this voice because once I do, hello paralyzing depression and good bye to doing anything. Sometimes I think about it and wonder what ever happened to the first few months after I graduated where my appetite to absorb was so open? But seriously, this isn't the talk to depression, believe me, I thought alot about it this weekend and I'm really not depressed. It's different now. Whereas we spent our university categorizing any bad feeling as depression, I think I'm just bored and a little exhaused by it. Its like the drink the wine of life and now all I feel is inebriated. Not that I think I over-dosed on life (or did I?) but I need to be challenged more.