Cold was the day, so cold that my poor stomach was hungry all day, from morning to night. I've been loading myself with carbs the entire day, so insatiable was my appetite that I finished my poor lovely roomates' cereal! (He's such a kind spirit, but I pity him because he has to bear with such a greedy sister :P ) Thank you kor, if you're reading this!
Anyways, this country is constantly cold even when it's not winter. Four years of bracing myself through the chill has not taught my receptors to be more resistant to the weather here. My skin cracks, the strands of my hair repel each other from similar electrostatic charges whenever I apply friction to them, my lips bleed, my eyes become blood shot from all the late nights dedicated to chasing coursework deadlines and I feel like a piece of meat. Yet, this is a living a privileged life, there is only this much to complain about. All these small things that will cease to be significant as time passes by, when I've found my greater purpose, which I still strongly believe in.
Me busy now? My life, hard? Let a mother with five children show me the meaning of busy. Let a bony rickshaw puller on the hot streets of home tell me what hard is. Or the cleaning lady who sweeps the compounds of the school in which her child attends. Or the stock-up guy who sprains his ankle while unloading heavy packages from the warehouse for the retailer. How very much detached are our lives, how arrogant a spin my mind has taken from the hardships I've seen with my very eyes. All the blessings I've received I do not deserve. All goodness comes from God. Once in a while, when I sigh and fret way too much, He comes by and gives me a slight slap on the face to remind me how fortunate I am, just to be feeling a little bit of cold.