The puzzle

This was bound to be one of those decisions that are frequently made, but, for a long list of different reasons, rarely kept: I decided to tidy up the chaos I call my room.

Only, this once, the reason that kept me from pulling through was not the usual too-tired-bored-mood-less nonsense, but a sudden brain flash that struck me as I was trying to make sense of my desk. What was it that was going on there, exactly?

A precarious pile of a vast variation of things, disparate items lying there, waiting with Job-like patience for me to put them into some kind of order. Order out of chaos. As I was looking, trying to decide the best place to start squaring away, that was when it hit me: everything I loved, all the preoccupations that kept me busy and sane were there on display, like a live journal of my every-day life.

Just odd, all the inanimate objects that seemed to be so indicative of my likes and dislikes, loves and obsessions, practices and habits, all in one place. The contents of my head, the instruments that help compose my life’s tune.

A file of both old and new sketches next to my sketchbook, flanked by pencils, erasers, sharpeners, the full complement of utensils for my very favorite preoccupation. I spend hours with these in my hands, illustrating the images flooding my brain. Or at least trying to.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula, half-read, no bookmark. I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to find where I’ve left off when I care enough to pick it up again.

Notebooks with rough drafts of future writings and vocabulary notes- futile attempts to keep remembering things I’ve looked up in my dictionary. Right on top of it, the aforementioned dictionary, haggard-looking, about to fall to shreds from years and years of extensive use.

Two pairs of compasses, in my possession for a good fourteen years –from back in the day I used to be a student- recently used to design a sketch that has gone dramatically awry. I’ll have to give it another try; it’ll be a very interesting study if I ever manage to render it the way it originally introduced itself in my mind.

Higher up on the desk, the decrepit analog camera I had borrowed some eleven years ago from my cousin to participate in a photography class, when digital photography wasn’t even a distant dream in the imagination of its developer-to-be. Note to self: clean it and see if the old monster can still perform its magic.

A dusty cd case, hardly ever opened nowadays -since the day mp3s invaded my hard drive- containing my all-time-favorite rock and metal songs, the kind of music that has the power to turn one’s prosaic day -or night- to a real-life music video, that kind of music that stays with you through the years and brands your heart and soul with an everlasting blazing mark, the very characteristic crest of rock royalty.

My old fart of a stuffed puppy, a wry smile on its cute aged muzzle that hasn’t faded despite its 20 years of torturous squeezing and clenching. My sole companion throughout my own personal dark ages.

Receipts for the IRS. Ugh. Next please.

My swimming goggles, trustworthy protectors of my eyes from chlorine-or-saltwater induced stinging.

Colorful pebbles and tiny sea shells picked out from the myriads of their own kind on the beach from last year’s vacations at the village. Sigh. I have a ton of those, overflowing vases, boxes, bottles, shelves, containers of all sorts, shapes and sizes, yet I can’t make myself to dispose of them. It’s not only that they’re mementos of beautiful, carefree times; it just feels like such a waste, so unfair, to remove something from its natural habitat to have it end up in a dump somewhere. I’ll figure out something appropriate and decent to do with them.

A roll of duct tape. What’s that doing out here? I open a drawer, wedge it in among the rest of my tools.

My wallet. Empty wallet… as it is most of the time lately. Well, empty of money, anyway. I‘d better return it into my bag.

A to-do-list for the next day at the office, scrawled on a torn piece of plotter paper. Grrr…. In the wallet you go. I’ll deal with you later. If I’m in the mood.

Hanged to the side wall, a Robert Pattinson calendar - gift from my friend B. from Georgia, already flipped to August -though it’s still only early July- since my favorite photo of his meticulously tousled hair is on that page. I can’t help but grin looking at that calendar. Girl, you know we’re both stray-jacket crazy.

Just above, a shelf crawling with other people’s thoughts, the fruit of ingenious creativity: my favorite books. Stephen King, Umberto Eco, Dan Brown, Frank Herbert, Jane Austen, Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne… Stephenie Meyer. “Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.” Edward, the original, unfailing source of my inspiration.

Farther down the shelf... more dictionaries, architectural construction manuals, Van Gogh, Dimitris Pikionis, Lenos Christidis, Christos Vakalopoulos, Nikos Kazantzakis, Konstantinos Kavafis, Odysseas Elytis… I pause there for a moment. “Πουθενά δέν πάω, μ’ ακούς / Ή κανείς ή κι οί δύο μαζί, μ’ ακούς / Ποιός μιλεί στά νερά καί ποιός κλαίει - ακούς; / Ποιός γυρεύει τόν άλλον, ποιός φωνάζει - ακούς; / Είμ’ εγώ πού φωνάζω κι είμ’ εγώ πού κλαίω, μ’ ακούς / Σ’ αγαπώ, σ’ αγαπώ, μ’ ακούς.” (I go nowhere, hear me / it’s neither of us or the both together, hear me / Who speaks in the waters and who cries, do you hear? / Who seeks the other, who calls out, do you hear? / it is me who calls out, it is me who cries, you hear me / I love you, I love you, hear me.)

And in front of this mosaic of diverse books, just before the edge of the shelf, three photos. Mother and father, black and white from back in the sixties, an era when things seemed to be much simpler, and in the very center my brother wearing his bushy hair 80’s style. It actually was the 80’s when this was taken. He was 17 and absolutely carefree then, he looked radiant. The plinth and pillar of my personality’s structure.

I pull back one step, my eyes drifting downward once again. I know what this is. It’s a puzzle of my existence, each item a separate piece, different but with its own special place in the whole.

Even the desk, a draftsman’s desk, tilted slightly forward. How many nights haven't I spent right here, bent over this very desk, eavesdropping on late night radio shows while drawing with draft pens the schematic of the future I wanted for myself. It was here when one night, after a rejection of monumental proportions, I got dead drunk on Southern Comfort and wrote a ridiculously corny, whiningly mellow and totally trite letter to someone that didn’t even remotely deserve it, and then threw it away. Looking back now, that night was an awful waste of brain cells. Southern Comfort, despite the quantity consumed, gave me absolutely no comfort. The existence of the desk somehow did. It’s my spot. My place.

I don’t understand how all these pieces of my life ended up together at the same time at the same place. It’s probably because I always try to fit everything in my very much restricted 24 (-6hrs of sleep) hours. Work, family and friends, research, various recreational preoccupations -means of expression and venting, reading, sports, more work, more stuff…. And where does housework and tidying add up in all this? Nowhere, apparently. Not now. I think I’ll leave the artistic collage of a puzzle intact for the moment, it’s nice to know I lead a full life.
Even in its disparity.

No ρε, I'm not sorry at all.

I don't feel like babbling today. I feel like ranting. Ranting, bitching, growling, snarling, mouthing off, giving the finger, being a bitch. I hate being used, manipulated, and eventually disregarded. I hate not being given the credit I deserve. I fucking detest selfish hypocritical assholes who never care for anything else but their own petty hide, looking only after their own sorry asses. Feigning friendships and using everyone in range as if they were nothing more than subjects in an experiment.

And most of all, I hate being forced into feeling this way!

Enough enough ENOUGH!!!! get out of my face or you'll find me in yours!

p.s. Sorry. NOT. Αει σιχτίρ.

Unexpected

I was unprepared, unarmed, totally defenseless. I never could have anticipated the almost imperceptible spark I saw in the familiar blue, could never have dreamt of it. And the smile, it was different. Warmer somehow, almost eager. Surprised, as was I.
A warm, pleasant surprise, an unexpected present.

It made me realize that my so meticulously built armor is powerless against warm surprises and blue sparks. Full of cracks and thin fissures and fault lines. Weak. The spark rendered both my armor and myself completely useless.



...In another place, another time, another universe, I might have staked a claim on you. I would have. I would have seized the moment and been impulsive and probably made a move. If my life wasn't such a complicated, ridiculously tangled chaos, if I had a backbone to support my thoughts and desires, I would have staked a claim, I would have given it a try.

But my life is complicated, and I am a spineless, insecure -and, at that moment, totally unprepared- coward. I would very much like to have done something. As it was, all I could do was stare for a long moment, and then warily look away.

Bubble?

Some say that I live in my own private little world of a bubble, that I'm distracted, unobservant, sometimes oblivious of my surroundings, never paying attention.

Little do they know, my bubble is so large and spacious that it fits their world inside as well as mine.

Despite what one might occasionally think, I miss nothing.

Such a perfect day

Flying high, free, nothing but deep blue skies and perfectly white fluffy clouds. The sensation of the wind all around me, filling my nostrils, my lungs, my mind, my very existence, exhilarated, totally overwhelmed, no pull of gravity, no pull of responsibility, luxuriating in the lightness and the speed, I don’t look down, I don’t look back; flying high and free…

I open my eyes to an extremely irritating repetitive ear-piercing sound. Alarm clock. The relentless pull of gravity, the unfailing pushing and shoving of responsibility as reality kicks in. Time to land…

Better watch out, better not cry, better not stall, I’m telling you why: You’re late... Get your butt moving. Ah, just another day.

Out on the street, driving in the car, stuck in the familiar megacity traffic. Vehicles turning this way or another trying to escape, forming chaotic patterns and lines like ants on the ground, this must look really interesting from the helicopter above; horns blaring, people cussing to themselves, at each other, at nothing in particular, thunderous exhausts and drills piercing holes right through your scull and straight into your brain, pedestrians walking groggily, as if in shock, hypnotized hurry…

Futile attempt to tune the uproar out: turn on the radio; the prosaic sound of contemporary mainstream babble fills the air in the car, making the confined space of the cab feel almost claustrophobic. All of a sudden, tic-toc, it’s about eight-thirty, time for commercials. Sales, someone’s shrieks punch through my eardrums with deliberate exuberance. Don’t miss this chance, unique opportunity, get out of your seat NOW. Never before. Come in time. Obtain. Buy. Eat, drink, dress. Consume. Become. Haven’t you heard? Haven’t you done it yet? Once, twice, thrice, sold. Daym. Head throbbing. The spokesperson takes his turn to the torture stand. Ha ha ha, did you see her last night? What was it she said? OMG you should have heard her. You should have seen her. Sanctimonious, self-gratifying, self-reverential, the words crawl out of the speakers soaking every surface of the car, venom saturating the morning breeze. The trite, the petty and the tedious in a constant circle of self-preservation, playing mind games with my consciousness.

Enough. Feeling slightly ill, I push the cd in the player with a bit too much force, wondering why the car hasn’t come to life to protest just yet. The sonorous whistle of flute accompanied by a perfect rhythm of drums and bass, the sweet hoarseness of guitar flowing sinuously around me. In the shuffling madness, I’ve got locomotive breath… thank God for small breaks. Roll down the automatic windows; let the air in with a gust. Step on the gas pedal, leave the sluggish convoy of cars behind.

The horns are still honking, the pedestrians are still walking with zombie-like grace, the sun is climbing higher in the morning sky, the temperature rising. And I’m finally there.

So… who should we backstab today? One of our colleagues? One of our clients? One of our bosses? Gossiping, whispering, muffled laughs and sniggers and stolen glances all around. Mock concern and envy, vulgar thoughts, and the same scream blaring from the speakers: Sales, have you heard yet? Are you late? Be the person of your dreams; consume!

NO. Headphones plug my ears with an instant reflex movement. We used to swim the same moonlight waters, oceans away from the wakeful day… Ring ring. Who’s there? The brutal reality calling regarding a fax not sent, a payment not made, a draft not yet finished, a commitment not kept. Troubleshooting. What’s not working? Why not? Who’s being impatient? Who’s being perversely and deliberately rude? Who’s tampering with my temper?

Shhhh….. I place my head once again between my headphones. His fingers touch the piano keys, and the magic of the profound melody is unleashed to compose the soundtrack of the shapes, forms and textures; images of possible futures being produced as if on their own on my screen right before my incredulous eyes.

Buzz kill: the phone, the door, the e-mail, the cell, the guy across the room with a trivial remark on something I couldn’t care less about or a personal question I hold no interest whatsoever in answering. Grumph. Shrug. Back to work, back to my magic bubble world of magical notes and colorful images. Run, on and on, run on and on, the loneliness of the long distance runner… the loneliness of the high-endurance interior designer…

SPLASH.

Jump-cut several hours later, with my hair pulled back and stuffed securely in my swim cap, my eyes looking through goggles. The shock of the cool water raises goose bumps on my skin, washing away the sticky residue of the troublesome day that clings on my body like perspiration under the scorching sun. Ears, thoughts, senses submerged, flooded with the soothingly familiar smell of chlorine. Watching the lazy reflections sent off by the water dancing wriggly on the ceiling, marveling at the perfect diagram of refracted little waves projected all over the bottom, the silence of the solitary pool is almost eerie in its tranquility.

Swimming on and on, nothing but clear water and dim light. The fluid invigoration all around me, its freshness filling my nostrils, my lungs, my mind, my very existence, exhilarated, totally overwhelmed, no pull of gravity, no pull of responsibility, luxuriating in the lightness and the speed, I don’t look out, I don’t look back; swimming on and on, I smile to myself, totally free...

Perfect antigravity. Perfect motion. Perfect speed.

Perfect day.

In a flash of intuition pt.2

[Note: this post comprises Facebook status updates that date from all the way back to last summer up until the present day. Some are borrowed lyrics from favorite songs, others are loans from books; however, for the most part I can take credit. I like to think of them as potential titles or cornerstones for future document projects; obviously all of them are susceptible of further analysis. None the less, I'm pleased to present you with the everyday contents of my head, whether they be mundane or dreamy, serious or funny, earnest or clueless, original or not, in Greek or English.. oldest record first.]
part 2: from New Year's Eve 2010 to the present day (May 2010)


New year's resolution: Love more, smile more, whine less. Talk less when I should think more, think less when I should act more. Be more persistent, more proficient, more patient, more active. Smarter, faster, braver, stronger! Dream more, and act more to make the dreams come true! Let no one tamper with my temper...And most importantly: Make good on my resolutions from now on; amen!


It's not the passing of one year and the addition of yet another on our backs, it's our unfailing ability to dream and hope that we celebrate. It's more than enough a reason.


The one thing I hate more than being lied to is interference in my life. GET OUT OF MY FACE or you'll find ME in YOURS....


The world seems to be full of vulgar people. Why should I comply with their demands?


I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which I gazed. Amazement was, of course, predominant. [Edgar Allan Poe]


Love will never bow to time because love is real and time is not. [Ram Dass]


To see Worlds in a grain of sand, And a Heaven in a wild flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour. [William Blake]


So many things to work on, process, update... so little time.


Prolific.


Woke up early... way too early. something is poking and tugging around the edges of my perception, toying with my consciousness, although I can't quite put my finger on it.


I want to run, I want to hide, I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside, I want to reach out and touch the flame.. Where the streets have no name...


Sometimes I wish more than anything that I could read minds... although I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like what I'd hear most of the time.... but at least I could then satisfy my unfailing curiosity.


And all my days are trances, and all my nightly dreams are where thy dark eye glances and where thy footstep gleams...


Calming down exercises... breath in, out, in, out.............................................


I've grown tired of superficiality, all covered up and concealed thoroughly under pompous, serious-looking statements. Remove the mask of false wisdom, you're not fooling anybody. Especially me.


Clueless question of the day: is it still Sun-day, if it's cloudy outside?


There's nothing like being able to feel... in a world that promotes numbness, indifference, apathy, that's all that I'm proud of. All the accomplishments, all the accolades, are nothing in comparison to the sensation of being able to simply feel anything at all.


If your light is flickering and the room’s growing dim know this: the power to change is yours, the walls can’t keep you in. If your legs find the rhythm your thoughts can start to fly; when your feet are on the ground your mind can reach the sky. So let them theorize, sermonize, criticize, talking and talking and talking, all you have to do is –HIC!- keep walking….


Τέλος τα σαλιαρίσματα ρε! Όσοι σαλιάρισαν σήμερα και εξακολουθούν να σαλιαρίζουν μέχρι του χρόνου τέτοια μέρα κερδίζουν. Οι υπόλοιποι τζάμπα τα λεφτά για τα σοκολατάκια. Άντε και του χρόνου!!!!


I can't help it, I have a huge problem with self-righteous people. They make my foot itch (to kick)


Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. [Henry David Thoreau]


What goes around comes around.... it's a given fact of life, as certain and unavoidable as death and taxes.


Good for you... I'm undecided. About everything.


I've got a lot to say to you.......................................................


Walking the thin line between good, better, excellent.... never quite satisfied with good enough, unable to settle for something merely sufficient. And the quest for knowledge never ends... I 'd never realized until now, it's the loneliest of paths.


To be or not to be? Concur or dissent? Convert or fight? Werewolf or Vampire? Mental Ray or Scanline renderer? Should I stay or should I go?... ah, the eternal questions of life....


Living the drama of the vampire who could only come out by day.


I'm very communicative today. I've called, faxed, e-mailed, im-ed, had a heart-to-heart... only thing missing is a message in a bottle.


Tick tock tick tock... life on a constant countdown.


Tuning the uproar and insanity of the world out... rocking withing myself. do not disturb, leave a message after the beep.


"Remember Me" is not a blockbuster. Either you can relate to it or you can't. It's that simple. It's not even a movie. It's an acidic concentration of things that once have, still do, or have the potential to tear you apart. Kids, don't try this at home. Try it at the theater instead.


Woke up from a dream I can't seem to be able to shake off. I 'm not sure I want to, either.


The process of evolution in life is inextricably related to mistake-derived knowledge. error is our friend, as long as we learn our lesson. well, I've learned mine. case closed.


fragmented geometries


So interesting to witness with your own eyes the process of lines being drawn...


Touch my tears with your lips, touch my world with your fingertips.....


Battling the shadow with the flame... or is it the other way around?


If you're gladly eating the b.s. one's feeding you, then you shouldn't whine and bitch that it stinks.


I'm a swimmer; I live my life a crawl at a time. Nothing else matters. Not work, not the mortgage, not my... "team" and all their bullshit. For those couple of hours or less... I'm free.


Just because we've been dealt a certain hand, it doesn't mean we can't choose to try rise above...


It really is worth being resented by a throng of petty, insignificant people, if it means you'll earn the respect of a handful of decent ones who you can eventually call FRIENDS.


You simply must endure the brunt of the storm... for after it has passed, the sun is sure to re-appear.


Do you follow your gut instincts against your better judgment, or your conscious judgment against your better instincts? how do you stay true to yourself, when even your own thoughts are in snarling disagreement?


"Dear" Germans: it's not us you mock when you photoshop Aphrodite. you mock the civilization you yourselves have also adopted. the joke is on YOU assholes, and you won't be able to escape your own punchline.


It's getting strange in here. sadly and oddly strange. eerie, like the quiet before the storm.


Reality is far more fictional than fiction could ever be.


It's so much better with the head under the surface of the water. with all that's been going on, not being able to hear or think is simply bliss.


Utilizing calming exercises... breathe in, breathe out......................


Η έκφραση "τα σπάσαμε" έχει αποκτήσει εντελώς διαφορετική έννοια τα τελευταία χρόνια στην Αθήνα (και όχι μόνο).


The day after yesterday...........


Stuck between the burning shade and the fading light...


We used to swim the same moonlight waters, Oceans away from the wakeful day....


I wish there was a way, any kind of way, to keep notes of the thoughts that run trough my mind as I swim and capture some of the images I see as I dream.


And suddenly, the status of the world shifts once again... for better, for worse, for whatever may unexpectedly come. always in motion... it's a hopeful, beautiful notion.

In a flash of intuition pt.1

[Note: this post comprises Facebook status updates that date from all the way back to last summer up until the present day. Some are borrowed lyrics from favorite songs, others are loans from books; however, for the most part I can take credit. I like to think of them as potential titles or cornerstones for future document projects; obviously all of them are susceptible of further analysis. None the less, I'm pleased to present you with the everyday contents of my head, whether they be mundane or dreamy, serious or funny, earnest or clueless, original or not, in Greek or English.. oldest record first.]
part 1: up to New Year's Eve 2010.


Dreaming............... the unspoken dream...... the story never told.


Uphills are hard... but one who never had to climb, never enjoyed the view; never will.


Love is born mostly under the most extraordinary of conditions... and our lives are simply too common.


What if I 'm not the hero? what if I'm the bad guy?...


We live our lives in a box shut fast... the isolation and the despair cannot compare to this nightmare: slowly becoming as idle and indifferent as the ones we'd criticized up until just yesterday.


Far far away, no voices sounding, no one around me and you're still there...


Even Athens feels a bit mythical.. is there something out to get me tonight? I would like to think so.


Is there a name for that private little world of mine?...


I guess all good things come to an end... or do they ever really?...


How I despise our deterioration, our decay, our withering, our decadence... why can't we just stay forever young?


Let's hit the gas, maybe we 'll get lucky and run all misfortune over.


Life is not about the breaths you take... but about the moments that take your breath away.
...life has left me once again breathless with incredulous surprise...


Vicky is unavailable at the moment. Not here. absent. elsewhere. please leave a message after the beep.


Living life to its fullest... not a minute going to waste.


Λόγια μεγάλα, ποιητικά, ανεκτέλεστα, λόγια κοινά, κενά, «καπνός κι αιθάλη», που ίσως διαβάζοντας τα να με οικτείρετε, γελώντας και κουνώντας το κεφάλι.


Don't worry... I don't bite. on weekdays.


The wildest dreams I'm having... I'm having them with eyes open wide.


Try as I may to convince myself it doesn't matter if I occasionally slip... I curse myself while struggling to stand up again.......


The day is indisputably tampering with my temper.


I search every corner, there's nowhere to hide...how can you hide from yourself?


It's a good thing I have a new bed here... this way I can lie down comfortably and pretend to be fighting the insomnia. Seriously though........ How can one miss what -or whom- they've never met?


Hit the gas pedal, make the engine roar......


Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction ice is also great... and would suffice.


I don't care if they say it's one of man kind's greatest inventions, and spare me all the practicality talk: CONCRETE SUCKS.


If one can't think of anything good to say, then it would be best if they just shut the f* up already... and leave me be.


Watching with incredulous eyes as our past, present and future are being reduced to ashes.


I should have run... instead I stayed....


Let's try and salvage what we can from this severely battered summer...


Giving up trying to be good. I 'm just going to do what I want from now on, and let the chips fall where they may.


Falling into the same familiar tedious patterns of my life.... now there's something that's susceptible of change.


Someone quick bring the time machine!!! so that I can stop time from bringing the weekend to an end all too soon again...


Open the windows!!! the air feels stagnant in here.... or is time that feels that way?


Κάτι τέτοιες ημέρες... με καφέ και τσιγάρο...


I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been
hanging on the promises and songs of yesterday
but I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time...


And what else could be a better incarnation of Hell on earth, if not an Athens bus??????


Before you, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars- points of light and reason… and then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. I couldn’t see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything.


Tired of the tedious, the shallow, the unimportant, the inescapably mundane. where's the thrill? where's the excitement?


Think you there was or might be such a man, as I this dreamt of? If there be, or ever were,one such, it's past the size of dreaming...


I don't want to work. I don't want to remodel my freaking house. I just want to lay back and do nothing. or lay back and just read. but definitely lay back.


Back hurts, head throbs, nerves all tangled up together like Medusa's hair, how I yearn for my bed...


Announcement: if my answers frighten you, then you should cease asking scary questions. stupid ones, too.


Οι εποχές έχουν αλλάξει τόσο ριζικά από τότε που κατεβαίναμε στις διαδηλώσεις κραδαίνοντας πλαστικά σημαιάκια στα χέρια, με τα μυαλά πλημμυρισμένα κληρονομημένες πεποιθήσεις. Αν υπάρχουν ακόμα άνθρωποι που παίρνουν αυτές τις εκλογές σοβαρά, ας σκεπτούμε...


Star-eyed and moonstruck...........................................................


Something to calm my nerves and distract me from the tumult...


One thing that I know, once I put my coat on I'm coming out of this all wrong... and I've got no fight in me in this whole damn world to hold off..........


It's not the beauty of your face, or the music of your voice, nor the strength of your arms, not even the calm persistence that runs through your whole existence that takes my breath away. it's the fervent intensity that lights your eyes when you whisper "I love you"...... (don't mind me, I'm thinking Twilight)


Laid back and peaceful with my bubble securely sealed and impenetrable around me.


I bet Edward would appreciate metal music.


Do not ask which creature screams in the night, Do not question who waits for you in the shadow. It is my cry that wakes you in the night, And my body that crouches in the shadow...


A bag full of medicine, a hand full of tissues, a head full of worries.


...but what the most disturbs me, is that the whole of humanity today seems to be having the foolishness of children, but not their innocence as well.


Ah... the tedious bullshit of every day life....


Games without frontiers.


Με πόση ευκολία χλευάζουμε έννοιες για τις οποίες κάποτε πρόγονοί μας πολέμησαν και πέθαναν, ώστε σήμερα να είμαστε ελεύθεροι και να μπορούμε να τους χλευάζουμε κι αυτούς με ευκολία. Καλή 28η.


In the face of October the 28th.......
the history of our country is one, continuous and indivisible.
I am proud I was born in this ancient land, proud to be part of its long history.


Τhe most cynical amongst us will say we have very few things to be proud of...
I say, we have a lot to be proud of, and it's in our own hands to multiply the reasons. This past-derived certainty makes me bloat with pride for my lineage, my heritage.
We've gone a long way... still a long way to go. We will walk that long line with our heads held high.


Another day of strange mood swings, mental confusion and unsettling doubts.


It's interesting to see how the world is perceived by some people.. interesting to see their reactions when reality hits. suck it up, it's not getting any better... not until you act on it.


ah... freaking forbidden fruit...


I struggled to find words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them. When I resurfaced, I was not the same man I had been. My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, right in the middle of my midnight?...


Um... what was that again?


I 've always wanted to be considered as being strong. The care-taker. But now, I've come to wonder whether that was the greatest mistake I've ever done.


What do I look like? The wizard of Oz? You need a brain? You need a heart? Go ahead. Take mine. Take everything I have.


Vacillating between the rock and the hard place.........


Lost in the aftershock... har, har.


This world is a really f*-up place most of the time... not that I didn't already know, but having it confirmed every single day is disturbing, unsettling and nerve-wrecking. And since nobody ever seems to give a sh*, I wonder why I do.


I retract my previous statement... the world is a cool place after all.


These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.


Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.


What if you sincerely believed something was true, but you were dead wrong? What if you were so stubbornly sure that you were right, that you wouldn't even consider the truth? Would the truth be silenced, or would it try to break through?


Shhh.... hush, world.... stop all the noise and let the dreams flow on the streets...hear their mesmerizing whispers... let them take us to another place, another world...


How soon is now?...


To everything and everyone that's ever been a burden.... oh yeah. good riddance.


Telling people what they already know says everything about your anxiety-and nothing about their abilities.... being told what you already know is exactly the same, only all the more exasperating.


A new week, a new start? how many new starts is one person entitled too? how many new starts can one person mess up and still be worth even more?


The everyday role I play is just as important as the real me, or even more. For the role is the dream of who I want to be, represents the living struggle to make it real. What is life worth without it?


Now that I have nothing... I resolve to be nothing.


No, it's not the sensitive, fragile little girl so in need of love you'll find under the armor. It's the electric soul of Dawn underneath the fragile mortal surface of my mask.


Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before... [Edgar Alan Poe]


Rocking Friday from its heels.


Trying to reason with some people is like pushing against a concrete wall... self-exerting, exhausting, and eventually totally futile. why even bother...


When the worthless and the petty take all the credit and the worthy and good get nothing in return for their efforts... f*it.


I'm all about personal accomplishments today. task #1: CALM-DOWN


There has to be something out there that pleases the eyes and calms the soul... task#2: finding that something.


I've learned to be self-sufficient over the years. I don't need people supporting me, not really. But I do need to feel that they'd want to, regardless....


You know what's worse than feeling claustrophobic? feeling like a coward. here goes nothing...


Too bored to work, too anxious not to! quite the quandary...


I've one thing to say: if I had the amount of stupidity going round in money, I would never have to work again in my whole life.


Time to concentrate on the positive, instead of dwelling on the negative... I will to be the person who can think in this way.


Why does it bother me so much, that it always seems better in some ways to be feared than be respected?...


Dreams and reality are in a way like cell phones and water. a contact between the two can potentially end badly. especially for the cell phone.


It's becoming pretty clear to me that it's "better", safer at least, to talk behind people's backs than straight to their face. nobody will appreciate honesty any more. they'd rather not know. so maybe it's better being a bitch... if you can. can you? can I?


I like how 2010 sounds, it's a nice round number.


We're always leaving the old year behind us, hoping the new one brings us what our heart desires, when in fact we should be ignoring the passing years altogether and simply chase after what our hearts desire. Time is inconsequential, just ticking of the clock. I think I'll go hunting and let it tick alone.