The first couple of days here I felt extremely awake. For those who know me, this is a very rare feeling. No drowsiness, no fatigue, no dry eyes. At first I didn’t notice, I assumed it was jetlag. It was a rather euphoric feeling, of being in control, attune to everything around me. I don’t think I’d ever felt it before. Partly I suppose it was having just enough ‘normal’ and within my control in a home-coming, complimented by various changes: impending work, broken bicycle, kittens running and shitting everywhere and major mildew problems. My life is so glamorous.
But it was only a matter of time before the gauzy, soporific veil of working life would dry my eyes, and see my head nodding, sneaking naps at lunch, and lounging in bed after getting home. Last night I even reverted to the skip-dinner-out-of-laziness behavior.
Reading that the first bombs were falling on Baghdad, I cannot help but feeling like I did at 11:30pm on September 11 when I was abruptly awoken with news of the attacks, this feeling of a horrifying realization of so much pent-up, self-serving aggression, a breaking dam. And all of the people who drown below.
Following some quite good news about my plans next year (funding for research in Portugal tied to my research in Timor), I am finding it hard to muster any happiness. Trapped in this office-twilight and knowing that the world is exploding.
I feel hungry but no will to eat. A common sensation in Timor, but today worsened by that growing knot in my throat.