If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

Σάββατο, 27 Απριλίου 2013

Reset Your Preset

When I was little, I used to dream a lot. I had all these sorts of crazy, wild dreams but, call it naive because of my age, I believed in them to my bone. I had one dream in particular that I believed and wanted so badly, that the only thing that was standing between me and achieving it, were a few years until I reached 18.

By which time, shit happened and I wasn't so up for dreaming, let alone believing in it to the bone.

The thing is, I'm not the only one.This has probably happened to you too. Growing up. Growing up is not just about getting taller, getting a driving's licence and presumably getting wiser. Most of the times, it means losing your innocence. The reason why we dream so much as children and believe in those dreams, is because we are innocent. We're not afraid of those dreams, we don't care what anyone will think of them. We don't even think about the possibility of failing. We're innocent. Pure. Clean.

Undamaged.

Growing up, means you have doubts. You already have a (long) list of disappointments attached to your dream-making center. And if you're not careful, you gradually lose your ability to believe as well.

People sometimes ask me why didn't I do it; you know, that one big childhood dream I had. Why didn't I fly away and just do it. I can tell them any sort of excuse. Truth is, I got scared. I told myself I'm not good enough and that I'm bound to fail. I told myself it's too hard and too risky and that I'll be eaten alive. The only reason I told myself these things, is because others told me so, over the years.

I'd go to them, big bright eyed, with a smile, telling them that one day I'll do this and that. The shook their heads, maybe even laughed and told me it's hard. Told me that I'd probably be disappointed. One in particular said 'Καλύτερα να είσαι πρώτη στο χωριό παρά δεύτερη στην πόλη'. I still remember that, so vividly. And it sucks because that's exactly what I did. Επέλεξα να είμαι πρώτη στο χωριό, χωρίς καν να πάω στην πόλη.

I'm a little crazy these days. Lately I have a thing for getting out of my comfort zone. Trying. Daring. Believing even? And I'm writing down a resume and all these things I've done are staring back at me from a piece of paper and I wonder; did I do all this? Maybe I haven't been giving myself enough credit. Maybe I have underestimated myself and my abilities. And maybe, I forgot to listen to that inner child of mine one too many times.

Let me share with you a funny story; I've known Taurus for many years. From school. I was a child, he was a man. I was just about to enter puberty, he was just about to finish it. And I had a crush on him. I looked up to him and would blush everytime he spoke to me. Innocent puppy love. I never told him how I felt. I had told a friend about my crush and she said that it's silly, that he'll never be interested in me. And I thought yes, it is silly. Why would he ever be interested in me?

And here we are now, over a decade later; the child in me giggling with a twinkle in the eye and the woman I am, thinking that, yes I am damn worth the interest he has in me.

Life always has a way of surprising you, that much I know!

Anyway, the point that I'm trying to put out I guess is that, you never know. You never know how things are going to turn out. Good or bad. You don't get to know until you've tried. Until you've said the words. Given it a shot. Tested the waters.

Children should always, under all circumstances, be given love and support. No matter how foolish or naive their ambitions might seem. We adults should never, EVER, put them down. Disappoint them. Limit their dreams to our narrow-minded logic. We don't know better. Kids always know better, because they still have the innocence and ability to look at this harsh world through beautiful eyes.

Σάββατο, 20 Απριλίου 2013

V(o)ices

Hearing too many opinions can drive you insane, that much I know.

Everyone has one. Or more than one. And they really believe what they say, and they are sticking to their guns, hands down.

Some happen to agree with you. Some others, don't.

The tricky part is, where do you draw the line? You see, I deal with my shit alone. If I have a problem, I'll lay low and  keep to myself until I fix it. But not this time. This time I decided to be open about it, speak about what's on my mind, see if I get to solution X faster.

Baaaaad idea.

Especially when you haven't come to a conclusion yourself. So apart from feeling vulnerable and insecure, you can add 'utterly confused' to your list as well.

You know in some movies, where you have two little yous on each shoulder? The good one and the bad one? Each, whispering in your ear their point of view -which by the way makes complete sense at the time- until you hear the other opinion. Well, I'm going through that.

Add a couple of your friends on those shoulders now. Too many voices. Too much noise. One head.

Too many glasses of wine later, I still haven't reached a conclusion. Just cloudiness. But it actually feels comforting. The numbness. The inability to think straight. I feel emotionally exhausted somewhere deep inside of me but I'm too intoxicated to register it.

When in doubt, they say 'sleep on it'. I woke up to a throbbing head, incubating voices, opinions and suggestions. Why can't hangovers be on mute?!

So after my third strong coffee, I decided: All voices, OUT. Get the hell out of my head. All of you. Shut up. And get the hell OUT!

I might haven't decided on what to do with what's troubling me, but at least I decided on how to get there: I really don't care what people think. Simply because, people are not me. I'm the one dealing with this and I'm the one to live with the consequences. Therefore, either they understand or not, agree or not, support me or not, it doesn't really matter. It's not up to them.

So I pushed all voices out. Trying to do the same with my vices, which is a tad more challenging. I don't even listen to my voice. That voice of reason, logic, one-plus-one-equals-two sort of voice. I need to shut my eyes, close my ears and listen, no, feel. I need to feel me.

Or if I really have to listen to something, then that will be my heart.   

Σάββατο, 13 Απριλίου 2013

The Badness in Being Good

My mother always told me, no matter what I do, I should do it gracefully. Maybe it's those Disney cartoon movies I grew up with, maybe I'm lacking the rude-gene, but that phrase stuck to me. So I grew up to be probably one of the most polite adults you'll ever know.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not a good person. Or at least, I could be a better one. I have my vices. But being rude, is not one of them. Hands down.

Ακόμα κι όταν αδικηθώ, ακόμα κι όταν πρέπει να πω 'Fuck you', δεν ξέρω πως τα καταφέρνω, αλλά λέω αυτό που νιώθω με τόσο λεπτό και κομψό τρόπο, που νευριάζω μαζί μου. Γιατί κάποτε, you have to say 'Fuck you' and leave it to that. Για να καταλάβεις, μπόρεσα να πω 'fuck you' to a freaking surveillance camera, μόνο και μόνο γιατί είναι άψυχη. I cannot seem to bring myself to be impolite. Δεν μου αρέσει να φέρνω τον άλλο σε δύσκολη θέση, ακόμα κι αν με έχει κάνει κομμάτια.

Δεν θεωρώ ότι είναι ανωτερώτητα; είναι η αδυναμία μου to believe that I deserve better. Being graceful is really not what it's cut out to be mum.

Με τον Peter Pan χωρίσαμε όταν μου είπε κάτι που είχε κάνει. Κι αντί να τον διαολοστείλω και να τα κάνω όλα πουτάνα, ήμουν κυρία και μιλήσαμε. Έχει να το λέει μέχρι σήμερα πόσο 'large φάνηκα στα μάτια του'. Ο Κριός μετακόμησε στην άλλη άκρη του κόσμου, κάτι που μας έχει φέρει ανεξήγητα κοντά -well, αυτό και το FaceTime- και μου είπε τις προάλλες 'πόσο βλάκας ήταν και πόσο με αγαπάει'.

Ακόμα και το πρώην αφεντικό μου, που με απέλυσε ένα καλό απόγευμα πριν χρόνια, έχει να πει πόσο  'κυρία ήμουν και πόσο μικρός ένιωσε από τον τρόπο που το χειρίστηκα'.

Looking back, δεν θα άλλαζα τίποτα από τις αντιδράσεις μου. Έστω κι αν έπρεπε να παράξω ατελείωτα fuck-yous σε αυτές τις περιπτώσεις. Και μετά από καιρό, έρχεται ο άλλος και σε δικαιώνει. Αλλά το παράπονο μου, γιατί περί αυτού πρόκειται, είναι αλλού: why does it have to hurt so much? Γιατί πρέπει να περάσεις αυτήν την επίπονη διαδικασία, εσύ που ήσουν εντάξει, για να έρθει μια μέρα ο άλλος -που δεν ήταν εντάξει- και να σου το αναγνωρίσει? Why can't they get it right from the beginning?

Και η ειρωνεία είναι ότι, it's usually too late when they do realize. Γιατί εγώ άμα φεύγω, κλείνω την πόρτα, την κλειδώνω και πετάω τα κλειδιά. There is no turning back. Έτσι μου φαίνεται λίγο ironic να έρθει κάποιος που με πλήγωσε και να μου πει I'm sorry or whatever. Simply because it no longer matters to me.

So here I am, a very polite yet emotionally exhausted adult. A happy person, yet so tired. I'm an emotional traffic accident. Κάποτε εύχομαι να μπορούσα να είμαι πιο αναίσθητη, πιο brutal, πιο bitch. Ίσως να ήταν αλλιώς κάποια πράγματα. Ίσως να με αγαπούσαν περισσότερο. Ίσως να με εκτιμούσαν περισσότερο. Ίσως να άξιζα περισσότερο.

Η συνείδηση μου είναι καθαρή. Αλλά sometimes, it's no consolation. Not when your heart is aching and your mind is turning. Η φάση με τον Ταύρο has been a lovely journey with small unexpected beautiful surprises so far. Και κάποτε αναρωτιέμαι when all this will blow up in smoke. Πότε θα δει πόσο ηλίθια καλοσυνάτη είμαι και θα φύγει γιατί "it's too good to be true". Γιατί I'm too nice επομένως it won't matter.

Δεν ξέρω πως μου ήρθε όλο αυτό σήμερα. Διαβάζω και ξαναδιαβάζω αυτό το ποστ and I feel so exposed. Ίσως γιατί ο Ταύρος μου είπε τις προάλλες ότι 'I'm too good for this world' and all these mental alarms went off in my head. Ίσως γιατί άρχισα να νιώθω πολύ όμορφα πράγματα για αυτόν. Ίσως γιατί κουράστηκα να ονειρεύομαι και να απογοητεύομαι. Ίσως γιατί I'm tired of being graceful and having it exploding in my pretty little face.

*sigh*

I'm done with the badness in being good; I want the goodness in being good to soak me silly. I want the goodness in being good to fuck me up in the most beautiful and graceful way.