Monthly Archives: May 2012

Go Quit Your Job and Live Your Dream! (Well, not exactly.)

Today, May 24, 2012 marks the one-year anniversary that I left my job to move to Northeastern Turkey. There is a rising trending culture in America that is very much oriented around: “Quit your job! Live your dream! Meet your full potential in your own special way! XOXO!” Read the rest of this entry

Want to know why we are here? Ask a village shepherd.

Living out here as Kars’ only resident American I face a long string of questions day in and day out that is more than enough to cause a personal existential crisis. Hourly, I am asked:

“Who are you?” “Why are you here?” “What is the purpose of your existence?” Read the rest of this entry

Want to know the meaning of life? Ask a village beekeeper.

Even when flying solo, bees always have the hive mind.

I couldn’t believe it. I had found quite possibly the very last living melified man and he was 115 years-old. This man was on his deathbed, claiming to have kept himself alive over the past few years by eating only his own honey. He was the oldest beekeeper in Turkey, and I would dare say, quite possibly the oldest living beekeeper in the world. He had kept bees during the time of Ataturk, during world wars, during Turkey’s rise and fall as a global power, and during hundreds of Karsian honey seasons. Read the rest of this entry

Screw Oedipus and Make your own Prophecy: Starting a Company Against All Odds.

Why don’t we go and break the rules already?

Twice a month my mind wanders to that scary amusement park attraction where all of the floors are uneven, the lights are dark, puke and popcorn coat the limited air molecules, and every wall is lined with reality warping mirrors, transforming something like a simple cardigan into a horrible nightmare.  In my version of this room, the floor is sticky with sour honey and all around me the warped mirrors display everything that could possibly go wrong with my company. I see myself all alone in the middle of the room, big eyes crying in fear and shock; my face frozen in a permanent silent scream. Read the rest of this entry


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