My Great Day
Today was a day when I would have loved to have called my mother. Who else wants to hear me show off about the great day I had as much as she? Pat is a captive audience, and well, I'm lucky to be able to expect her zeal in my behalf.
I almost did call my mom, but I have to parcel my miniscule free time; if I called my mother, I'd have had no awakeness left for blogging.
Along with my director, and wearing simply my bright green, linen dress-shirt, with its white collar and three-quarter-length, white-capped sleeves, and my olive, pin-striped pants, I met Mr. Shanker Annaswamy, the leader of IBM India, today.
Had I known the meeting would happen, I'd have worn my salwar kameez, or my best business suit. It was better this way. Hardly had enough time to get nervous.
"I'm honored to meet you," I said.
"Me, too," he responded disarmingly.
It was 30 minutes with one of the world's top business leaders. I can't write about our conversation, which was IBM Confidential, but I walked away, wanting more than ever to be of service to my colleagues here.
I'm so energized, even as I'm exhausted in parallel. This is my state nearly all of the time. Finally, I'm sleeping hard. The jet-lag ended during the middle of last week.
CNN or MTV or NPR
Today, for the third time since we've been here, I felt well enough to exercise formally -- still can't yet go back to swimming; my cold is lingering, though I keep wanting to feel that it's nearly gone. I saw a doctor over the weekend -- did I write about that? -- and it really is just a cold, and he gave me Cipro and Vomistop for the rest.
The hotel's health club was becoming crowded by the time I got there, at 6:05 am -- had been empty, other than one guy the day prior. How disappointing to have to watch programming chosen by a hotel guest other than me! He wanted CNN, which felt so grim compared to my thrill at MTV yesterday morning...whether or not the other exerciser had been delighted by my taste.
I'm thinking of my colleague Mike, who's on assignment in Shanghai now, and how, probably locally, current events aren't magnified by the media in the same way they are by media outside of the country, just like when I lived in Jerusalem in 1985-86, I never felt the degree of danger that the non-Israeli media always promoted about life in Israel.
At breakfast yesterday, Pat said, "Sarah, a sleeper-cell could be anywhere --"
"So why suspend living, right?"
"Right."
When I left for the office today, Pat was sitting at her laptop, listening to yesterday's "Morning Edition" on NPR, and kept listening, she told me later, until it stopped connecting.
Pat is telling me to go to sleep, so I'll just finish this with the pop part; so far, during my daily commute over the past several days, I've been delighted to hear the following songs on Radio Indigo, the colour of music:
- "Party Like a Rockstar" - Shop Boyz
- "I Don't Need a Man" - Pussy Cat Dolls
- "How Deep is Your Love?" - BeeGees
- "Summer Love" - Justin Timberlake
- "Show Me Love" - Robin S.
- "Do You Know?" - Enrique - I hear this one the most often....
My boss here wants us to move into the community where he lives, and if the rental goes through, he's excited that we'll be able to ride to work together. I know he's right --that we'll get even more accomplished -- but already, I'm mourning not hearing Cindu's "Big Breakfast" voice and Rohit's "Cruise Control" voice during drive-times.
3 comments:
Hi Sarah,
Cool about your great day. Nice to know that you had a meaningful conversation with Mr. Big. I am also starting to feel happy, more confident and comfortable in my skin at work as of today. I did call Mom today to let her know about an interesting assignment, because, well, you're right, Moms love to hear about their kids' lives and noone else cares in quite the same way.
Thank Pat for the chipwirrel photo. Do they really call them chipmunks?
I've been reading about the Bangalore native responsible for one of the car bombs. Oh well. That's life these days. Who knows how many terrorists we're harboring in Brooklyn. I remember being woken at 3:30 a.m. one morning, some time between the 1993 bombing of the WTC and 9/11/2001 by the sound of many helicopters swooping right overhead. Turns out that there was a terrorist cell two and a half avenues from our home. A potential bombing of a major transportation artery at Atlantic Avenue, where almost all NYC subway lines and the Long Island Railroad converge, was averted when police or FBI were tipped off to a group that had filled a nearby apartment with a cache of weapons and bombs. Nice. Did I ever bother mentioning it? Or all of the times I've been evacuated from subways over the years for bomb scares. God, I love New York. Really, I do, with a passion.
And lest we think to tar all Arabs or Muslims with the same brush (wouldn't it be mmore likely that Bangalore native was Hindu?), you should know that it was an Arab neighbor who tipped the authorities to what was happening, because he couldn't bear to think of the consequences of keeping silent. That took unmitigated courage.
I loved the title of the movie, "The Year of Living Dangerously." I think the wonder of it all is that we all live dangerously all the time, but some of us are just more aware of that than others by dint of luck, sensitivity or circumstance. Those of us who are keenly aware of this appreciate the sweet pleasures of life like no others.
I love the song, "Kol haolam kulo gesher tsar m'od, v'haikar, lo lefached clal..." All the world is a narrow bridge, and the important thing is not to be afraid.
I love you and miss you. I hope you are able to find loads of excuses to listen to Radio Indigo and get in touch with your inner teeny-bopper. I remember her well from your youth. Long live the pop-tart in you.
Love,
Middle Big Sister
That's among my favorite songs/philosophies, too.
I will always love pop-music.
Yesterday, Cindu promised an Amy Winehouse song. Our niece loves her, apparently. I had never heard any of her music, but I listened and then didn't notice a new voice. I did love one I heard for the first time today, about a woman, refusing to go to rehab. It was not a funny topic, of course, but the song was so clever, rhyming the names of famous rehab alumni....I explained the concept of rehab to John, who was driving me to work, and it was a moment when I defintely felt from another culture.
I love the rehab song, too. I actually think it's hilarious and fabulously rendered! I heard her "album" at our July 4th barbecue. She's great. I'm going to have to learn her name, because I want to buy her album.
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