Highs and Lows

Was supposed to go to Tbilisi this weekend for a Rave, and then visit a supposedly awesome monastery near there with a friend. But there was a payment glitch (the main bank caught fire) that delayed our direct payment. So I couldn’t go. I was more bummed than I realized about that.

Plan B was to go meet some friends in Batumi for the long weekend, but I caught a stomach virus. So I couldn’t go. That only put me in a further funk, which makes me very introspective.

Staying here this weekend, gave me A LOT of time to think about my decision to come here and my long-term goals. I am still 100 percent vested and know that I am doing what I should be doing, although I still can’t fully see the endgame. And I’m Ok with that.

People ask me what I miss most about the States. And it’s not anything material. It’s my friends and people. Unfortunately, some of them have mistaken my joy at speaking to them as a lack of longing to BE with them back home, implying that NOT speaking is how best to remedy that situation, short of my returning.  And that perhaps I’m emotionally calloused.

I need my friends and people. They are my stability while I’m in a place where I have yet to find my bearings. I know if I am connected to them, I can bear and do anything.

I think I’m starting to ramble now, but what I’m trying to get at is…

I love hearing from you guys. Update me consistently and often on your lives and what’s going on via email or whatever. No piece of information is too small.

Hearing from you put’s me in the best mood. And fuel to get through the lows.

 

 

“…there I just said it
I’m scared you’ll forget about me.”

Edge of Desire, John Mayer

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One response to “Highs and Lows

  1. Your comments remind me of my tour in the Central Highlands of Vietnam. The day after I arrived at my final destination, the only other American for 10 miles around went on R&R and never returned leaving me alone with 1,000s of my new BFF. Although I loved and respected the Montagnards, I missed Western companionship and cherished any sort of communication with the “world.” I would stay up late at night and tune in Radio Saigon on my battery-powered shortwave radio. It was my lifeline to the rest of the world.

Holla atcha boy!

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