It has been a long eight months since I have written a blog. Thanks to identity theft that occurred on January 15, caused by Public Works who had left a disheveled street behind, I went through six months of harassment, theft investigations, dispute settlements, account revisions, automatic  payments redirection,  and readings of an enormous number of new contracts, some not delivered but disputed. Each company outsmarted itself, by imposing higher rates or quoting higher costs of repair, as if to have a piece of the pie. What pie? Between insurance companies, car agencies, telephone companies and banks I have had a dizzying dance. I must state that the two banks I dealt with were extremely helpful. As for the rest, I have wiped them off my slate.

All this shindig left me exhausted, with no mental energy to continue writing. Afte writing two thirds of the book, I lost trend of what I had said in the beginning, and could not focus due to multitasking above and beyond my lot. Could it be that the title, Tweaking Destiny, had pushed me to the edge altogether? I can’t afford to have a nervous breakdown. I promised my fans that I was in a gestating mood for a second book.

So it was very refreshing when, in July, I was invited by the Writers Union of Armenia to attend the fifth Conference of Writers of Armenian Origin who Compose in foreign languages (never thought of  English as a foreign language!). It was an opportunity I would not miss, despite poor health, disposition and fiscal crises still unresolved. To add insult to injury, a low-altitude wall in my yard that holds up the neighbor’s backyard, collapsed a week before I left, a relative and a close friend passed on two days before my departure and . . . I will not count those that succumbed during my three-week absence. However, I was booked and had to go. After the conference, which dealt with Globalization and National Identity, I came back more confused than ever.  Nevertheless a few days with a friend in Yerevan, capital of Armenia, and time spent with my daughter’s family in the British Isles, en route to Leopoldville, gave me a much needed respite. 
None of my nightmares had taken place in my absence. Some plants had dried out but no windows were broken, no flood or fire had occurred, and the neighbors’ yard did not seep into mine.  Only my car trunk locked up, holding on to one more suitcase to be unloaded. Thank God the clothes therein are clean. 

I have a commitment to myself to finish the book by the end of year. As soon as I gather the bits and pieces of my epic 1964 journey, globetrotting through eighteen-countries, I will be ready.  Right now it seems like a daunting task to me.