Insomniac

If you never sleep, are you ever awake? Yesterday evening at English club someone said a Mongolian word that sounded like ‘chilloot’ to my gadaad ears. ‘Ugnay?’ I asked Aldarmaa, who was seated next to me at the dinner table. She clarified, and I explained that chilloot sounds a lot like ‘chill out.’ ‘Ugnay?’ said Aldarmaa. ‘Chill out,’ I said. It means relax. Say it to people if they’re taking themselves too seriously and need to calm down. Hypnos hasn’t been visiting as much as I’d like of late, so little in fact sometimes I think about inviting his half-bro over for buuz and hoshuur. But it turns out both brothers are terribly busy, so I’m left, like a bridegroom at the alter waiting in vain for Eros to send my lover back and make it, right. ‘Zugeeray,’ says Tood. ‘That entire family can hate me I’ll thug my way through.’ Tood taught the next day with one foot in both worlds. Luckily it was Tuesday which means 8:00ish class, followed by his personal favorite, Business English at 9:40something. Same song and dance of late, and although toodEtood no longer resorts to sarcasm and a pouty lip, he still has moments of broken frustration. Following an uninspired performance, we find the jester Tood brooding over his rice and milk tea at the lunch table while everyone else is busy conversing about this that and the other, he sits picking and prodding at something like a meat paddy. That’s really no way to spend a lunch hour, but datder' boy is as stubborn as his mama. On his way out of the canteen he strikes his head on a low hanging pipe which he could interpret as a reminder to snap out of it, but instead chooses to brush it off and continue on his wayward path. We’ve been down this road a time or two before, so I’ll omit his journey up the staircase down the corridor and cut to the office, who knows, maybe Hypnos is knocking at your door. Tood pulls his chair up for the weekly scheming session, still brooding over who knows what; when Aldarmaa flashes a mischievous smile his way and says, ‘Chill out.’ Tood laughs. They settle next week’s plot to bore [inspire] the bejesus out of their students and it’s time for Tood to go his way. He wishes the others good day as he prepares to exit their chambers, but just as he has one foot in both worlds, Soyol, the other funnytalker, says, ‘Don’t worry, just try.’ The collective wisdom of their impromptu imperatives doesn't strike Tood until he is out of the office beyond the corridor traveling down the staircase. Then it hits him, like a low hanging pipe outside the cafeteria, ‘Chill out. Don’t worry, just try.’ Tood smiles. He’s lucky he has such a thick skull.