Chronicle in the Day of a Neurosis
Friday. 8:57 AM
I am awake with excitement. In 4 hours, I pick up my passport from the Peruvian embassy, stamped with my first non North American visa in 20 years. I’ve been in Vancouver, in the middle of hustle and bustle, for this. I have now idea how I’ll focus on work for the next few hours. Once I have the passport in my hand, that’s another step towards me pursuing the calling.
I feel a sense of combined rush, excitement, and jitter.
10:15 AM
“I better post an Out of Office message soon”, I think to myself. Last thing I need is to be bombarded with messages while I’m gone for a few hours. So, I craft my eloquent Out of Office message.
I am starting to feel anticipation. This is the closest I have been to an worldly explorer in the last two decades, and the last two hours can’t seem to go any slower.
I want to post on social media about it. But, what about? I think there’s a story about a caged bird finding a way out…or something. Thoughts start to run in my head.
11 AM
I decide to walk, instead of taking the SkyTrain. I ate like shit over the last week and didn’t exercise much. I feel a sense of guilt and shame, but the idea of walking 5 kilometres makes me feel like I’m back on purpose again. It feels like it could be a good way to slow down as well, as I’m noticing my head spinning up all these stories.
11:45 AM
I’m 15 minutes early. Thoughts of if I’m coming on as desperate begin to creep in.
12:02 PM
The visa isn’t ready yet. They need a few more approvals to stamp the passport.
I can feel my head starting to rage. The consulate asked me to come at noon a week ago, and now that I’m here, they’re saying that they need another two hours. Feeling my upset at their incompetence. I’m far off from home, so I guess I’m here now, waiting for no good reason, for two hours.
My Out of Office expires in an hour. Fuck.
1:05 PM
The consulate lady sees me by the elevators, where I had been sitting for the last hour. She says that the visa is ready. I feel a sense of empathy from her. I’m appreciative of her.
I had been talking to a few friends from work, hearing their gripes about a few things. I put the phone down, and start to walk to the consular office again, with renewed hope.
1:10 PM
I have my passport in hand, with the visa stamped. There’s a sense of disbelief, relief, and excitement. It’s happened. After all this time, it’s happened.
I can’t help but stare at this piece of paper that’s glued to my passport. After $45, two copies of recent photographs, prof of income, and letter of reference, I’ve been deemed acceptable. I sense, in me, a sense of inequality.
As I stare at the visa, I notice that it isn’t placed 100% straight. Something about it feels frustrating. And then me becoming frustrated at that creates another layer of exasperation. Maybe I do have OCD, I wonder.
I take my phone out. I want to tell my friends, my family…I want to share the update. On the lock screen, there are messages from friends at work, still griping.
1:20 PM
I’m walking through downtown Vancouver, going back home. I’ve started to record voice messages. Its something that I discovered while I was waiting at the consulate, and it feels less impersonal than straight texts. I have a 50 minute walk ahead of me, so it feels like a good time to catch up, and hold space for my colleagues who need support. I’m nothing but a space holder, after all. There’s also still excitement from the visa that wants to be channeled, and this feels like a good way. Feels like I’m accomplishing something.
2:05 PM
I’m almost home. As I record my last message, something feels off. You know the feeling. I look for the passport on more time.
It’s not there.
Not in the pocket where I put it as I left the embassy.
Not in any other place that I could’ve mindlessly moved it during my phone calls.
Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK.
Major panic ensues.
5 minutes from home, I start to freak out. I take my jacket and my base layer. A failed scour, as nothing turns up. I see the pocket. It’s loose.
It must have fallen out.
But, I never lose things. (Never being an exaggeration).
I feel like I’m going to collapse.
2:07 PM
I start heading back as I retrace my steps, going through the streets of Hastings, hoping against the truth.
I was supposed to be back at work at 2. I decide to message and tell my boss that I won’t be there. The idea of how that it wouldn’t land very well comes up in my head, but I have no other option.
I start to run.
East Vancouver.
Chinatown.
Downtown.
No luck.
The streets don’t show my passport anywhere.
Lots of folks on the streets.
Lots of trash.
Big city vibes.
But, not my passport.
2:35 PM
I am back in the consulate office. The lady sees me again, confused this time. The same person who I felt dismissive towards earlier, appreciated later, is my last saviour now. I ask if by any chance my passport has been returned here by a Good Samaritan.
“No”, she says, with a worried look, as she sees sweat dripping down my forehead.
My head drops. I leave the office.
3:10 PM
I’m walking back towards East Van, pace a lot slower than earlier. Depressing thoughts come and go.
“Maybe I’m not meant to travel outside of the country.”
“How could I have been so careless to lose the one thing that I absolutely couldn’t?”
“Why did I need to rush through my whole day?”
I send a message to my housemates back on the island, and a message to my family in LA.
3:35 PM
I check the website of Bangladesh consulate in Toronto. It looks like there’s an option to get an expedited passport, with enough time to get it restamped before my travels.
Hmm.
My passport was going to expire in November. I was going to come back from Peru to renew it in June. Maybe now, I won’t need to. Maybe I’ll have my extended walkabout across South America. Maybe this was all for the better.
I feel a sense of direction starting to shine out. I make a mental note to call and check with the embassy on Monday.
4:10 PM
I am home. Charles and Lucille, my housemates for the week, are devastated to hear my news. They’re also surprised at my overall outlook. I feel a sense of pride for having kept it all together, and a sense of relief for them not having seen me in my state of disarray for the last two hours.
7:30 PM
I am at a restaurant with a bunch of people, most of whom I hadn’t met until now. Through our conversations, we stumble upon astrology. I am told that Mercury is in retrograde from today.
“Of course. Now it all makes sense. I had a feeling there was a reason why I lost my passport.”
Saturday. 8:20 AM
I am awake. Yesterday flashes before my eyes. All the thoughts, feelings, emotions run through once again. This time, I just witness the mind running, chattering away, without taking part.
The humour of the monkey that’s our mind doing its thing. The humour seems more palpable when I’m not engaging with it.
I am the witness once again. The active witness and not the passive participant.
I wake up, with a smile. Time for our hike.