The Cups Here are Tiny

Today I am feeling like, "What the hell am I doing here?" The inside of my head is whiny, cranky, and uppity. This is what it sounds like: I hate school, it's too hot, my nose is sunburndt, I feel sick, I am a total grammatical failure, I eat too much bread at breakfast, the cups here are tiny, I don't want to smile and make Spanish small-talk at the table, I'm not progressing as fast as I could or should be, my housemate is too damned perky and happy and excited and active, I don't want to do anything else on my boleto turistico, I am not doing anything remotely spiritual (if whining counted I'd be game), there is a man with a fruit cart-cycle outside of my window who yells in this annoying nasal voice through a megaphone, "Choclos, mandarinas, uvas, uvas uvas, choclos, naranja!", I just want to read "Gang Leader for A Day" and fall asleep on my barbie-dressed bed with lumpy pillows. Plus, the inside of my ears are waxy and I didn't bring any q-tips. I think the remedy to this solution is to cancel my English tutoring session with a girl that's too nice for my bad mood and walk to the market where I will buy mangos and cucumbers and q-tips and white wine (not because I'll drink it, but because Melissa feels like a lush for having three empties sitting in the kitchen.)

Sometimes I feel like there is nothing remotely spectacular about Cusco, or where I am in life, or what I am doing. Sometimes I feel grateful. Most of the time I don't feel present, but I keep telling myself that the fact that I am aware that I am not present is a sign that I am, in fact, present. I just feel fetal, vulnerable, small, like meat.

I should note that this is most likely related to my recent consumption of more sugar. Also, maybe the honeymoon period is over since I am getting bent out of shape about tiny cups. The fruit-yeller man is pretty annoying, really, you've got to believe me, but tiny cups?!