yerevan sun

Aaaaaaah, yes. There it is, a blazing sun slapping my shoulders. I’m in central Armenia for sure. After sweatering up in cool Goris, the capital brought on some heat exhaustion and a massive headache which wiped me right out for a few hours. But after a cold shower and some gellato, CURED! I was then able to enjoy dusk by the cascade with the my best fulbright scholar (and otherwise) friends, Claire and Imogen, guzzling some sweet Laimon Fresh (a Claire and Brent discovery). Imogen had seized a couple donuts off a pile at the US Embassy’s Independence Day party, and after removing them…

cold

This will not be the happiest of updates.  Last night, still sick, I actually stabbed my journal while writing because I couldn’t get all my angst to quietly come out on the page.  Then I scribbled a big “F—!” on the bottom of the page and called it a night. I’m sick.  I’m worried.  I’m cold.  And I’m emotional.  Oy.  But let’s just take stock of what’s going on today: I can be positive, see: The snow is dancing in flurries.  Huge white snow bits are swirling outside the glass and laying themselves down on the ground, quiet and unassuming. …

good, really good

I’ve been in that catch-up-with-normalcy phase that happens after your mom makes a whizbang journey across the earth to see you.  I feel like I used up all my language skills on my mother and for the last week or so can’t seem to construct a full Armenian sentence.  I’m feeling the weight of my current state, the missing of mom added to the pressure of work projects mixed with the swirl of information concerning my grad school search sweetened by the idea of visiting friends all floating on an under current of Oh How I Love My Life and…

my texan mother in armenia

Most of the past week I think I’ll save for my novel/memoir/perpetually-put-off-piece-of-literature.  That is both a artistic decision, and a way of avoiding the impossibility of putting into words this past week with me, Mom, and Armenia. But, despite the length, consider this a taste. I saw her at first down the hallway, behind the glass partition, my mother looking much skinnier, a little lost, and washed over with anticipation.  She saw me jumping up above the crowd, waving one arm and holding a bouquet of flowers in the other, this little collection of green, white and lavender, a message…

slow roll

I was handed a drink the other day with these little eyeballs floating around in the juice.  I wondered where I can find said drink for the upcoming Halloween party.  I mean, look at all the eyeballs! In totally unrelated news, my mother just pulled out of the driveway.  She called me to tell me she was doing so.  Normally insignificant, this morning’s 4am slow-roll down our sloping cement is her first movement towards Armenia.  Within a collection of mere moments I will be standing face to face with my own mother, bursting at the seams. I’m hoping to video…