My South — someone else’s North
My South — someone else’s North
I don’t know what to write here. Today is April 8. I flew to Argentina on March 27, and since then it feels like several months have already passed — so much has happened. For the first time in my life I missed a flight, for the first time in my life I took a transatlantic flight, for the first time I’m on another continent, for the first time .... — so many firsts for me.
I also got rejected by almost all the PhD programs I applied to — it hurts terribly, even though it was supposedly to be expected. Still, somehow it seemed like I was especially smart / that unlike everyone else, they would choose me / that I would get lucky.
I hate it when people say that something is for the best, because nobody knows what is better and what is worse — all of that only becomes clear along the way, after a lot of time has passed and you look back and try to understand what actually happened. In other words, what is happening right now is almost impossible to classify in terms of how bad or good the event itself really is.
I don’t understand at all what point in my life I’m at right now, what will happen to me, or what steps I’ll take next. Little by little, I’m beginning to understand that everything I do should be done with love for myself and for others, and with a great deal of curiosity. I need to truly like what I’m doing — not like it because of this or that, but just because I like it, and that’s all.
Why am I in Argentina? Because I dreamed of being here. My dream came true. Wow. The world did not turn upside down; I still have all the same problems I had before. Do I like Argentina? Yes. Unexpectedly, I miss Yerevan terribly, F., and really everything and everyone what/whom is possible to miss.
I thought I was from the South, but it turns out my South is someone else’s North.