Being In Indiana

I've not posted in months because I was planning for moving, moving, and getting acclimated to Indianapolis. For the record, I don't like it. I don't like it, a lot. More than I can say. Which is why I haven't written: it would primarily be a list of unhappinesses and complaints, and, while I still have all my complaints intact, I've adapted enough to begin to work around them.

My most frequent comment to myself these days is the advice, "Oh, just get over yourself." This is a fantastically adaptive phrase that applies to complaints about local driving habits, bus schedules, roommate friction, neighbors with loud stereos, my personal appearance, homesickness ... I could continue but you get the idea. The phrase doesn't make me actually feel better about the situation but it does help me retain the broader context around my suffering. Or rather, what I perceive as my suffering, since I don't mean to sound like a self-important git whose life is all kinds of awful.

No, it's just all kinds of not-fulfilling-my-wishes and being generally not what I'd hoped for. But such is life sometimes.

Though I am getting a bit tired of being not only stared at, but occasionally LAUGHED at in public, because of my hijab. I have never been openly laughed at before, by adults (drunk undergraduates don't count). No wonder I never see other muhajabat in public; they've learned that it's best to just stay home, or travel in groups. And no wonder so many Muslim women here who do work outside the home, don't wear hijab. People aren't hostile, they're just...demeaning. Like being an uncool kid in high school again. And my response is much the same: withdraw, wait it out, and when that fails, try to pretend I'm not actually here. Which isn't so difficult, since those who aren't staring at me are often trying to pretend there isn't a real, live Muslim in front of them. No, really, I've watched it happen.

Yeah, I do need to get over myself. And out of Indiana.