Imagine that you wake up in the morning, feeling uncomfortable. Is it your perpetual stomach ache? No, there’s something else this morning. Is it your back, from sleeping on sagging chain link for the last year? Probably, but that’s not what’s causing this especially vexatious vexation. Out of the thick layer of barking roosters, warmongering dogs, and birzha-ing dudes, you hear the last few drops of water squeeze out of the pipes. “Haha!” it seems to mock you, “see you in a few days!”.
It’s not any of these things. You slowly come to realize that you have been, currently are, and will continue to be uncomfortable in every sense of the word. It’s the way you can’t get used to the smells, the tastes, the toilets, or the dagnab language; archaic gender roles, political instability, and monstrous caloric counts also play a role. But through the lack-of-electricity-induced darkness, a shining beacon appears that may or may not take the form of adjaruli khatchapuri for me (don’t judge): I like it here. I like waking up to the smell of burning trash because I just tell myself that’s it better as pollution than in the digestive tracts of all the stray animals. I like being able to blatantly lie to myself and then have the lie actually become part of my self delusions…etc., etc.
In that vein, I will present my activities for the last month or so, excluding my ♥Spain♥ vacation and GLOW camp (for a later post). I will present them as if you actually care, and as if you are not sitting on your plush couch reading this with wifi and simultaneously watching a television while eating popcorn that you made in a microwave. I swear I’m not resentful. My chain link and I are fine, thank you very much (again with the lies).
We had a safety & security meeting in Kutaisi. That was 5 weeks ago. Our Youth & Volunteerism committee helped with a recruitment training in Tbilisi. That was 5 days ago. I really need to get myself together here. Oh! And I went to a Georgia vs France soccer game. We inducted new members into our informal, monthly writing club. My LSAT is in 24 days. Basically I don’t know what’s going on in my life, but I definitely just noticed that last subliminal outburst there…yikes.
Nevertheless, life in Tkibuli goes on. There’s something charming about trying to write grants in an office with 4 languages being spoken at any given time. It seems like every day there is a stronger camaraderie amongst PCVs that is built on mutual respect and occasional exorcism-like emotional resuscitations. We’ve built lives for ourselves here; feeble, feeble lives, yet rewarding ones nonetheless.