Today, in lieu of discussing our reading by Augusto Boal in my "Psychosocial Perspectives on Human Rights and Social Justice" class we actually tried out some of his exercises from "Theater of the Oppressed". I was pretty skeptical going into the endeavor, but because none of the pretentious pond-scum suckers showed up for the 8 am class, the rest of us felt pretty free to express ourselves and experiment in the theatrical discipline. We did an exercise that tackled our feelings about our own activism, and for me this elucidated my feelings of impotence and inertia. Right now, when it feels like there is so much that is broken in the world, I feel reluctant to even engage with my community around me. It feels like too much. It feels like a losing battle. I go to my internship, where the 54,000 members of the Khulumani Support Group wait, and have waited for the past 15 years, for some sort of government aid and reparation. Their applications for membership are spread out to dry on every available surface in the office. Two weeks ago a tap was left on over the weekend and the office flooded, ruining all but one computer and basically immobilizing the whole operation. If hopelessness had a smell, it would be the odor of a musty moldy old carpet. I know. I get a whiff of it every time I go to my internship.
On a brighter note, my weekend was filled with joy and wonder. To celebrate my friend Sam's 21st birthday we had a cocktail party with chocolate covered cheesecake, then went to a silly little dance party packed to the brim with hipster scum. Luckily it was free.
Then for some reason they handed out glowsticks and it turned into a rave. Then we escaped and ran back to campus where we climbed the fence around the pool and went swimming.
The dip soon turned skinny. Finally we returned to more cake. I am so lucky to have my friends here. They are precious and rare. And they keep me sane.
Tonight we are going to stay up till 5 am in order to watch the presidential debate. I don't mind losing the sleep, especially since this is my last week of classes. Yes folks, first semester of my junior year is almost over. Just 20 pages worth of papers and 9 hours of exams to go, and then I am free. Just 24 days until my blessed mother arrives on this continent! Just 43 days until I get back to Amerika! Time keeps on slipping slipping. I guess time speeds up as I age, as a week, a month, a year, becomes comparitively a smaller percentage of my overall lived time. Oh, and 42 days until I turn 21.
Okay, so the water is off in my building and I must go find some potable liquid ASAP.
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