This is an interactive post about churches!

How many churches can you see in this shot of Old Town Tbilisi?

[hint: you might need to move your mouse over the picture if it's not loading properly...this is my first time composing everything in HTML and some stuff might be a little janky]
[p.s. In regards to the title, it's only "interactive" because of this sweet mouseover image I made, and that you have to click on "read more" to actually get to the post. So if you were hoping for some Angry Birds level of interaction, I'm sorry to disappoint!]

The answer is ten. Eleven if you count the church courtyard from where this picture was taken.

Lalalalalalala

Since my eyes need a break from the boring-as-everliving-hell Pola Negri pictures I'm editing, and since I'm fairly certain everyone that I have regular contact with is annoyed-as-everliving-shit with me, I'm going to just perseverate here.

I finally got a response from Georgia! I sent them my background check over two weeks ago, and just touched base with them to let them know I needed to change my airports when I got this back:

So like. I guess those 18 words (not including the salutation or sign off) seem to be pretty self explanatory - the airport change was not, indeed, a big deal, and that I am, actually, in the program and they'll send me my contract after the 15th.

So I guess it's a yes? Is it safe to get excited about it? Cause I'm a little bit wary. I know their last email was just as vague, saying "You've made the short list of applicants, all we need now is your completed background check and we will send you your contract." But where is the harm in just confirming I'm in? Is a straight answer so bad? Is this a soft yes and barring someone better coming along late in the application process I won't get kicked?

The 15th is their cut off date for applicants wishing to leave in August. So there still is time for them to say "On second thought, we're going with this other person! Sorry!" But the "will send" in there kind of sounds like it's a definite acceptance. I don't know! I don't know, and I hate it, and all I've done since I got this is alternate between spazzily freaking out to my sister and friend about how I'm so happy to go and then backtracking and questioning it and my future and life in general. I'm pretty sure I'm about to get stabbed by some parties in Michigan and California...

Referring back to my post about superstition, I'm very, highly, ridiculously, stupidly apprehensive to feel slightly happy about this, despite the fact that I am actually quaking with excitement and all I want to do is tell everyone I meet, stranger or friend, that I am FINALLY going to be able to go to Georgia!

I've started updating my packing list again, which is just an Excel sheet to figure out how much money I have to budget on trip items. Thankfully, I've added many more practical things to it, like long underwear, a pair of sturdy sandals, a first aid kit - things that will, you know, make my life easier while overseas. The first items originally on it were three different types of Moleskine notebooks (I already have one of these but lovelovelove it so why not get a second; one that I actually bought the other day cause I was stoked I found it in a store and I was impulsive; the last kind just because it is awesome and I am a notebook whore), a 35mm 1.8 lens for my Nikon, a bomb ass Swiss Army Knife!, and, finally, a super sweet camera bag. And after those things were placed into their little A Column cells, I got a massive brain freeze. I literally could not think of anything else I needed for a year abroad. Now, none of these are remotely useful for survival in a foreign country (except for the wicked cool Swiss Army Knife!), particularly one that lacks central heating and has water with microbes that my gut is way not used to dealing with. So I had to stop and approach this from a very Darwinian angle. Subsequently, the list has grown considerably since becoming pragmatic about it and asking myself what I actually need for my continued aliveness - go figure!

I know what you're thinking. "Jobags, isn't your list a direct defiance of your apprehension and superstition, since it's kind of implying a stable plan and success in a desire?" Oh, it totally is. It's a blatant transgression, actually. But I am trying to not let my life be ruled by my silly head anymore, because a lot of times it makes me wig for no good god damn reason. This list is a baby step in ensuring that I can, one day, get over it and take things at face value without questioning it 30 million times. That email was 18 words long. How many subtle nuances are in there? The answer is a lot of them, especially if you're a think-the-worst type of person like I am. But all that mindset has ever done is make me feel insane, so I'm trying to stop. Most people use drugs for this kind of shit, so I'll just make spreadsheets. Lots and lots of spreadsheets. That, and the trusted Andronis Sister remedy of closing ones eyes, plugging ones ears, and saying "lalalalalalalalala" really loudly. Cause if I can't see it or hear it, it's not real, right?

My Superstitious Self

To quote Michael Scott from The Office: "I'm not superstitious. But I am a little stitious."

That pretty much sums me up. While I completely understand the lunacy of thinking that any of my actions or thoughts or words will ever actually change the course of events, there are some things I don't like doing.

Saying, "Well, it could be worse!" is one of these things. Because guess what! Shit always gets worse, almost IMMEDIATELY after uttering that phrase. "At least _______ didn't happen!" is another stupid thing to say, since whatever you fill the blank in with will, inevitably, happen. Unless it's winning the lottery. God forbid I win millions of dollars and can fix almost every single problem in my life!

So it's been filling me with a lot of anxiety that I've even TOLD people about my application with the Teach and Learn with Georgia program, because I feel like I've doomed myself from the start. And to be fair, it has been fairly clusterfucky from the get go. Telling my bosses and quitting my job and moving from California back to Michigan just to have the program be closed two weeks later? I'm fairly sure that had I just done the normal thing people do, which is quit their job without warning and leave everyone up shits creek, I would've been in Georgia for the last 7 months. And I know that's a crazy thing to say, but it really does feel like the Universe is just a spiteful bastard sometimes, and it's hellbent on making sure I feel like the rug will be pulled out from under me at any time.

Which again, is an insane statement. I get that. I fully recognize it. But there have been so many instances where it's honestly felt true that a part of me can't help but be superstitious about any possible plans, desires, or wishes.

I guess at the end of the day, one way or another, if I get the email saying "YES WE WANT YOU!" or "HELL NO STAY AWAY FROM OUR COUNTRY!" it will be nice to have some finality. I've been in limbo for the last year and a half (actually more, realistically, since I made the decision to apply for some overseas program back in 2010, and in true Andronis style I just kept putting it off and off and off with excuse after excuse after excuse), and I'm kind of over it. Because the truth of the matter is, that no matter how detached I feel from everything, I am, actually, slightly invested. I told myself over and over again while in California that I hated it, and the only thing keeping me sane was my car and trips to Disneyland. And although these two statements were pretty true at the time, I'm finding myself sitting here saying, "Man, I cannot wait to go back to _______."  I'm fairly done with not being fully THERE with the people and places around me. It will be a nice change of pace.

However, it's been what feels like an eternity for this email to come, one way or another, and while I'm ridiculously hopeful, it's starting to feel like all my optimism is just going to make the exact opposite happen. Just cause the Universe is a jerkwad.