A Bad Day?

Yesterday I lost a blog that I had written when it wouldn’t copy into my blog on the internet, I had cut it from my Word document and then mistakenly saved the document without remembering to put the blog back. In the evening I received an e-mail from my realtor stating that the potential buyer’s home inspection said that my roof was bad and that I had lots of termites.

After a somewhat sleepless night I awoke to thinking what can I do, my funds are running low, I have to do some more work on my home to sell it, in other words a bit of a freak out. I arrived at work and talked to my friend Mark in China who calmed me down and I hoped to receive another e-mail from my realtor telling me further about the extent of the problem and whether the buyer has now given up.

Nothing came and I knew that the realtor was sleeping, probably having nightmares about this stupid little house that she thought might sell fairly quickly but due to market conditions has had only one serious offer in three months.

I next went to a meeting with a potential funder of a program that I’ve been working on and although we were funded last year they decided to fund a different piece this year, leaving us scrambling to find a funder. I remained positive thinking a blessing in disguise as now we will diversify our funding base a bit.

I went to a second meeting with a large television station, whose owner I had met in the airport when I traveled to Mumbai at the end of last month. The staff whom I met with said yes we’re interested but you have to find a sponsor. Another strike.

Now I sit in my house having hoped to correspond a bit with my realtor but having no internet connection. The woes of it all.

When I came home tonight I took my usual route, metro, bus, then walk. I passed numerous people, who probably live in a hovel or somewhere on the street, fanning their roasted corn and selling each ear for 5-7 rupees. I saw “my Indian family” members always greeting me with a smile, I came upstairs cooked food from my refrigerator, ate some sweet corn and now I sit in a lighted room, listening to the latest music, with a fan running overhead. Yes, I’m sweating, but I have lights and this fan and my a/c awaits me when I go to sleep.

What’s the rub? Well, of course, I worry in my western way of anxiety, my home, well maybe it needs a lot of work. Should I tell the bank that they can have it, get rid of the termites, fix the roof? What about those children, women and men selling that corn, how could I possibly explain this to them? Their worries, where do I sleep, how do I get a few rupees to feed myself and my family, can I find clean water?

Many times I just don’t get it and make myself sick thinking the sky is falling. I sit in India among a large portion of the world’s poor but I fall inside myself, seeing what is out there but never-the-less worry, legitimately, about what is happening with my home.

Tears for Fears is telling me “Change, you can change” and I suppose that is correct, thinking if only this, then it will be ok. But is it ever really ok, when the external world has such a major impact on me?

I know that I’m missing something when I see all of those children sitting next to their parents selling the roasted corn. Yes, it’s all relative to one’s experiences, and one day maybe I will change, as we say in India, “let’s see”.