You Can't Make Mistakes

I have given up on ever using the internet in my home again.

Well, I know that this has been a recurring theme, but I still don’t have an internet connection in my apartment. After two months of waiting with one company I had to cancel the contract, as you may remember. Now, I have waited for another month with the second company because there was a hold-up involving a cancellation code from the first company not working.

Finally, I had the cancellation codes, everything was in order, I physically went to their offices to check on the status. They told me that they would be calling me early last week.

No call.

I called this Wednesday and was told that, “Oh yes. There is problem in the exchange in Sidi Geber.” This was the same thing that the first internet company told me two months ago. I went from zero to wild-eyed-lunatic in 4 seconds and began berating the human on the other end of the phone. He, of course, told me that the problem was not something that they could have forseen. I told him that I had had the same problem months before and he replied that he didn’t know anything about that because that is a different company, blah, blah.

I hung up totally demoralized. I have never been so frustrated in all my life. Then—perfect timing—my roommate got home and wanted to talk about the internet problem. I explained it to him, and also told him that we couldn’t talk about it anymore or I would have a stroke. This did nothing to deter him. We had to talk about it. He suggested that we move. I couldn’t deal with it and had to meet some folks for coffee, so I readied myself for the outside world and left.

I was going to a coffee joint right around the corner from my apartment. I began the short walk across the district and as I was walking past one of the many little gardens in Mustafa Kemal, a dog burst out of a hedge and started running toward me. I ran across the street because I fear dogs here. There is no telling if they have rabies or whatever. This did not deter the dog, it followed. I continued running, it followed, and was closing. I knew that I couldn’t outrun it, so I stopped and grabbed the first things that I saw, a half of a brick and a piece of 2×4 and chucked them at him. The 2×4 missed a bit. The brick hit him and he went down with yelp and then skulked off.

I felt terrible, even though he was chasing me and was probably all diseased. I hated that I hurt him. He wasn’t debilitated or anything, but clearly hurt.

I got to the coffee shop, visibly shaken, and explained what had happened to my friends. One of them is an NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming) coach, and he suggested that I let him fiddle around with my brain later that evening and he would try to remove the anxiety that I have about dealing with the internet problems.

I was desperate at that point and on the verge of developing a terrible Xanax problem because I have been taking it to stave off my burgeoning general anxiety disorder, so I agreed. We went back to his house and I let him open up my skull and poke around with my cognitive associations.

In about two hours he managed to rid me of the internet anxiety completely. After the first round, he asked me how I felt about having to deal with them and I just laughed my ass off. Whenever anyone says the word “internet” to me now I can’t control myself from smiling or even laughing out loud. It’s brilliant. Worked like a charm.

Also, since being here, I have developed a bad habit of watching terrible crime drama shows like CSI and Law and Order. So, I asked Mamoon to turn my desire to watch shit TV into a desire to get work, writing, and studying done.

This also worked like a charm. I can’t even look at a television now. If I even turn the TV on now, I can look at it for about five minutes before I get too antsy and have to turn it off and begin typing or reading or doing my homework. It is brilliant. However, the other night it turned on me.

We went to dinner and then coffee and afterward grabbed a cab. Some of the cabbies here have installed DVD players in their cabs to entertain their fares. This was one such cab, and the DVD screen was installed where the sun visor for the passenger side would have been. This was ridiculously uncomfortable for me. It was like having someone shove a television directly into my brain. Horrible. It made me very nervous, and I was pretty fitful for the next few hours while I studied furiously when I got home.

So, in the end, everything has worked out. I feel great, and am terribly motivated, even though I had to undergo the equivalent of psychological brain surgery. It works. I recommend it most highly.

In the meant time, Egypt hasn’t changed. It’s still the same. This is another lesson. I can’t change Egypt and Egypt can’t change me, but I can certainly change myself and become more adaptable. By hook or by crook, I suppose.