Me. I am Carly…The Elusive Chanteuse.

August 20, 2014 by carlyjohn Leave a comment

Remember the teacher that was sending me Coldplay lyrics via Facebook chat? Today he asked me if I believe in magic. At first I thought he said mating, and I was instantly offended/appalled/creeped out, but then he got another teacher to clarify his statement. “He wants to know if you believe in magic? Do you Miss Charly?” I tried my best to keep a straight face, but coming from the tiny man that asked me about starfucking and has a thing for the words of Chris Martin, I couldn’t help but laugh. I eventually told him I only believe in facts and logic just so he would quit bothering me. I had important things to do, like read about Mariah Carey’s recent split from her producer of over 20 years, Jermaine Dupri. Turns out her 14th studio album “Me. I am Mariah…The Elusive Chanteuse” didn’t do so well. SHOCKING, I KNOW. Last time one of Mariah’s “things” completely sucked (I was going to say bombed, but … sensitivity and TOO SOON) was when the soundtrack to her equally awful movie Glitter was released on September 11th. She actually blamed the non-existent album sales on one of the worst happenings on American soil ever (?). The movie, which was released on September 21st, didn’t fare any better and I doubt the release date had anything to do with it. Face the music, Mariah, the only thing that is elusive is your fan base and the reasons behind your PR marriage to Nick Cannon. I do want to thank her for giving the world “All I want for Christmas is You” and “Obsessed”, two of the greatest songs ever created.  I actually got into a cab in Surabaya and kind of harassed the driver for listening to “When You Believe” by Mariah and Whitney Houston (RIP) from The Prince of Egypt. I asked him “Did you buy ‘Me. I am Mariah…The Elusive Chanteuse’?” He said “Iyah” only because he had no idea what the white girl in the front seat next to him was yelling about. The next song was ABBA’s “Fernando” and I completely lost all control of my body/mind (side note: other encounters with Indonesian cab drivers include me lying about my age to appeal to him (I don’t remember why) and buying another one McDonald’s after we made him go to the drive-thru after karaoke (I’m trash)). 

I don’t ever enjoy commenting on death, but Lauren Bacall passed away last week, one day after Robin Williams. I’m “sad” about his death, but I was never a fan of any of his movies really (sorry?) and now you all probably think I’m a heartless person. Sorry if I’m not moved enough to post an “RIP” facebook status about the death of a man I never knew or met in real life. I guarantee he will get a tearjerking montage at all the award shows next year. Back to Lauren Bacall. Girl, your eyebrows will continue to inspire me and other eyebrow aficionados the world over for years to come, as will your deep, sultry voice and bad ass attitude.

Mission #balibody is under way, meaning I wake up every morning and hate myself so much that I feel the need to put on my leopard print tennis shoes and make a complete fool of myself. I would love to put a GoPro on my bike and point it at my face just so you can see it contort in pain as I struggle with the tiniest hills. I love my site, but the roads here are nothing up UP and DOWN and UP and DOWN (repeat into infinity). While riding my bike, I often almost kill myself because I do stupid things, but at least I wear a helmet now. However, it would have done me no good when I almost rode my bike over a cliff/ravine thing in the forest. I can picture myself now, just waiting to die at the bottom because of my broken limbs, thanking Allah I wore my Peace Corps issued helmet so that I could be fully conscious for the end of my life. 

Aside from bike riding, I do workout videos in my room and jump rope in front of the house. The jump rope would be a great purchase if I was like 8 years old, but I’m a slightly overweight 23 year old with a thing for boy bands and being generally annoying. Therefore, I’m pretty sure my village thinks an overgrown child has invaded them and is going to indoctrinate their teenagers to like free sex before marriage. At least a few people in my village seem to like me, such as my Christian neighbor WHO HAS A PET DOG. I try to act like I want to speak English with him because he’s quite good at speaking my native tongue, but I think he knows I only venture into his driveway when I want to play with Mochi. I don’t really care because that Chihuahua is the best gift Allah has given me since arriving at site (Mariah at the left demonstrating how I go to the bathroom every day and Mochi to the right). 

(One more story about Mariah’s new album because I can’t resist. I think she’s kind of fascinating. The album title is based on a self-portrait she did when she was like 3. Apparently she wrote “Me. I am Mariah”. So deep, so poetic, so influential, so MARIAH.)

Now re-read this and take a shot every time I’m self-deprecating or say “Mariah”. Thank me later.