Shut up, Downsey

And that was an amazing experience. I hate when people ask broad questions about the trip, though, such as "how was it" or "did anything cool happen" and silly things I couldn't possible answer very easily. It's hard to put words like "good" or "awesome" on a completely new experience that most other people aren't likely to relate to with ease. What I do enjoy is the moment where I can start my own explanation, such as "I fell in love with Jodhpur" or "the traffic was amazing," things I think of independently of questioning, memories I deeply wish to share with any person willing to hear them. Even in this blogs I won't really talk of India, but more so talk about talking about India. Why? Simply because I've been doing a lot of it lately, and I have a presentation to give this upcoming Thursday and need to sift through about 500+ photographs to figure out what visuals I want to accompany my account of the trip. It's one of the many things that are to be done very shortly. There's a lot of work due soon. A lot of deadlines. I'll tackle them one by one, frantically, and largely in a last-minute kind of way. I'll be honest, a lot of my work comes out the way. And I keep planning improvement, and the follow through is also lagging behind. But that sounds much more defeatist than it is. It all works out the way it's meant to. I don't have a mantra, (people have asked if I have one now that I went to India) but if I did have one, it would likely be "all things that are meant to happen, happen." I trust in that, most especially when stressing out about the end result of a situation I am in the middle of, because that's when I need reminders. Luckily, I follow that even when things do not work out favorably for me, because to me your philosophy should not change with your circumstance, what you believe should be constant, elsewise you are fooling yourself into following a belief you truly don't have faith in. Ramble ramble. In truth, India changed me. But each day that I'm no longer there I can feel myself falling into old routines, and all I want to do is go back, and lose myself in some of those same moments.Shortly after returning home, in fact, about twenty-four hours after my flight arrived in Harrisburg, I found myself at a formal event. I was surrounded by a bunch of executives and middle management of a large company, all schmoozing and chatting up this and that person, dressed in either hand tailored pieces or Bon Ton's finest. I felt, what I refer to as "reverse culture-shock," and I simply watched these people nervously, sitting and staring, with increasing feelings of unease. I wanted the crowds of people, dusty air, wandering cattle, endless amounts of wild dogs, questionable street food, smiling children, hawkers, drivers, Tatas, and overall atmosphere of India back. Somehow, it seemed more reasonable, more functional, more cohesive, and even happier, than America likely ever will to me. And then I was sick. And then we went to a bar. And after my second rum and coke of the evening, I felt a little better about being home again.