Arriving to Armenia: Getting Lost and Found

some posts, you write them and you like them. and then they get like 15 views and that's it.
this is one of those posts. i enjoyed writing it. we'll see about the views.
here's the beginning:

As I look back, we just wanted to escape the reality, to stop thinking about my impending surgery and myriad of problems hanging over my head and just run the hell out of Tbilisi.

We left later than usual. That always happens, doesn’t it? You plan to leave at 8 A.M. and end up on the road at 12. Poor hubby had to fight plethora of fellow employers to get out for two days; however,  they relentlessly flowed him through phone, internet and other means of communication, causing us to stop along the way so that he could send data to his execs.  Lately, our life has been one big Trump’s Apprentice and my hubby won the title without any doubt (and if you don’t know what I am talking about, you need to get updated on reality competition shows ASAP).

We crossed Geo border without hustle--did not even get out of the car. Geo customs were nice, took our pics with their webcams, scanned our passports and let us through in several seconds, despite the fact that oneof my friends kept giggling like crazy and I thought they would check her alcohol intoxication level, which they did not and she was not drunk anyway. Lesson number 1: if you feel like crossing Georgian border drunk--go ahead, they don’t care.

for more, please visit my other blog at :

http://pik.tv/en/blogs/barabadze/43488-arriving-to-armenia-getting-lost-and-found

come on, just click on it, don't be lazy!

When I was 17

Yesterday, I was showing my friend pics of my exchange year in the states; I realized how much I missed it. Ten years ago, I spent a year in Utah as a foreign exchange student. Yes.  I was FES.

I went back to visit my host family later, while being student of one of the most liberal colleges in America. It’s interesting how perspective changes when you go back and look at the places you’ve lived in, compare it to your present life and see the changes that took place within. Because when I was 16, I felt very comfortable in American high school, following the rules of that given society (and trust me, there were lot of rules, from omnipresent dress code and to no tea or coffee) and later, I complete  re-evaluated my  attitudes towards politics, popularity, people, human rights, sex, drugs, everything.

As much as I think I’ve retained my core inner self-- I still value friendship, romance, humor, I like big crowds, new people and new places--intellectually I am a completely different entity.  Look at me now, marching with gays in Tbilisi, pushing for legalization of certain plants, bashing established religion, and look at me 10 years ago, religious, making such a big deal of getting kissed that  I dragged it till I was seventeen, too scared to discuss sex, judgmental, just plain tacky, what else? And of course, I had to go to states to first find myself as a good girl Utah high school and then as a rebel in college. Cause nothing  in Georgia stimulates one to reflect on own values, understand what do we  like, want, believe, we  just go with the flow. Or maybe, everything is too familiar.

 How do we change so much but still same? Why do people claim that most of our morals are formed during our teenage years, when we grow up and retain almost nothing of that time? And if we do, we look immature and retarded. What are we really, how stable are we and will I be laughing at my current beliefs 10 years from now? Does it mean that everything I stand for now is arbitrary?

Along with all the questions, I was swept with nostalgia. I started thinking about my host family,  my host sister, my friends, my first crush and my first boy and I just felt so grateful that I’ve met this people, that they allowed me to be part of their lives, that they supported me when everything seemed so much more important than it was…like will he call me, do I look nice in these jeans,  what happens if I say this? Do I fit in, am I unique? Will I go to prom? I mean, do you remember how important it was to go to prom?

Funny huh? Don’t make fun of it though. It hurt then.

When I was seventeen, it was a very good year. It was a very good year of confronting to the society, being overly emotional and constantly establishing myself. But damn it, it was a very good year. And I miss it.

p.s. pic: engaging in what seemed like a very American activity: gathering leaves with my host family.

Reality Crisis

The other day I found myself walking in a park, coming to terms with reality.

Am I in some stupid melodrama?

Welcome to an episode of House M.D.: my grandmother has stage 4 cancer. Thank you the deity up above, that she is in U.S. What if she was here, how could we help her, with no decent medical help, no insurance, no expertise?

She’s starting a curse of chemo, as soon as she recovers from her unsuccessful surgery (they couldn’t cut the tumor out).

Should I write about this?  Some things are too private. Especially, when they concern others.

So, let’s come back to me then. I can write about me, right? Right?! I have cyst growing in my ovaries and we’re cutting it out next week. Hopefully, I will start ovulating after that. Or I won’t. I don’t care anymore. Some people don’t have legs, some people don’t have hair, and some don’t have well-developed eggs.  Fuck it.

Remember Sex and City, Charlotte couldn’t have kids because she was “reproductionally challenged”? Doesn’t seem so funny anymore. Are you crying yet? Oh, this is such a pity-me post!

I am over crabby stage. I laugh and generally try to be in good mood, but I can’t fall asleep. I should look for some night reading material, instead of staring into the darkness. Oh, and these mood swings.  In the beginning of the post I was sad, then I started laughing at all the pathos and now I am getting angry. Sometimes I walk around in the street and sing aloud. I am trying to bring my temper up with tacky music. ..“oh, my darling, I hunger for you touch…are you still miiiiiiiiiiiiine?”

How do I deal with my Anxiety? Non-stop watching of the latest Celebrity Apprentice. I come home from work, crawl into my bed and watch Donald Trump. What would I do without my reality TV? Please don’t take it away from me. Ever.   Unfortunately, Celebrity Apprentice is over and now I am spending evenings reading about my favorite contestants and watching their appearances on different comedy shows.  Oh, and I discovered some interesting new stars, for example, since I am anti-American Idol (me, the queen of reality TV! I just don’t like music contests), I don’t know any of the Idol people, and all the sudden some guy named Clay Aiken from season 2 of the Idol almost won the Apprentice (he should’ve, should’ve won! F u Trump!). Here’s to new era of endlessly reading his bios and listening to his songs (ick. cheesy pop songs. great voice though)!

When stressed, some people drink, some smoke, some eat. I have stopped eating, sleeping and never found consolation in alcohol.  So I watch rich white old man ask bunch of have-been-celebrities lead projects and scratch each other’s eyes out, while listening to Unchained Melody sang by cute pasty southern gay guy, who was robbed of his reality TV winner regalia twice. What, is this obsession unhealthy?! Damn right! Who is healthy anyway?!

Oh, I know, I know, my life is not a melodrama. It is one big sappy reality TV show. Cause it is too stupid for anything more interesting.