"Tο Χρυσό Κουφέτο" στο MSN...

Ναι. Στα 38 μου,το εζησα και αυτο!!!

A while ago a messenger contact of mine asked me to accept his cousin as a new contact as well on my messenger. "Γιατι;" i asked. He answered that his cousin was around my age (τι εχει το age μου by the way???) and thought it would be a good idea to 'meet' internetically.

i was not at all keen on the whole idea.."Δεν ειμαι σε τετοια φαση βρε" του ελεγα αλλα αυτος επεμενε μεχρι που με εσκασε πραγματικα and i gave in with a heavy heart. By the way, my contact told me that his cousin was a really interesting person and we would have a lot of things to chat about.how does the Greek saying go?'οπου ακους για πολλα κερασια,κρατα μικρο καλαθι'?καπως ετσι νομιζω..I'm not that sure but it fits the situation.i was carrying a small basket from the beginning..

The next day i saw a new add request on my messenger. The nickname hit me.

******kos...(the name will be withheld for personal reasons..for fear he might come back that is!! )

After that first shock, i (reluctantly) accepted his add. Shock two came in a while. " κοριτσαρα μου τι κανεις?" he asked at once.

Pause from my side of the screen..i was still looking at the picture of the thirty something year old man,with the 'φραχτη like' κομμωση (you know the one where the hair stands straight up in the air all around the head as if it's a fence of some kind..probably trying to protect the unknown creatures inhabiting the scalp from leaving..i know i know..I'm being bitchy..humour me please!!). Apart from his looks,there was a picture of Stelios Kazantzidhs in the background..mistake..not a picture..a wall to wall poster of him. Don't get me wrong..i have no problem with Stellara (may he rest in peace)but the combination of the poster,the hair,the thick gold chain around his neck and the Joe Weider φανελακι with *****kos's huge muscles bulging out kind of took me by surprise. this was not my type of man at all! i was also wondering how my msn-contact thought i would have so many common points with this *****akos since so far,things didn't look too bright from where i was sitting but i decided to be open minded and continue the conversation.

I answered of course after being directed as 'κοριτσαρα μου,μαναρι μου, μωρο μου ατελειωτο μου' και ολα αυτα (χωρις να με εχει δει φυσικα..μαλλον αυτα 'φαινονται' απο τον τροπο που γραφω,ε???) 'Yπομονη' μου ειπα και συνεχιζα though i was already trying to figure out my strategy to get rid of him without seeming toο hard. I asked him a typical question that we all ask someone we don't know at all..'Τι μουσικη ακους ******ακο?'(επεμενε να τον φωναζω ετσι..βιτσιο μαλλον..) and of course he answered me 'λαικα,σκυλαδικα και r&b......' i stopped typing and just sat there in front of the screen..wondering..I can understand the first two but please tell me where does the r&b fit in???? περι ορεξεος(or is it ορεξεως?damn greek spelling!!!) κολοκυθοπιτα και μετα απο λιγο με ρωτησε φυσικα και μενα την ιδια ερωτηση.

Ι decided to put my plan into progress and try to get rid of ******ακουλινι (ετσι μου ειπε να τον φωναζω πια μιας και ενοιωθε TOΣΟ ανετα μαζι μου μετα απο τρεις προτασεις που ανταλλαξαμε..ωρες ωρες αναρωτιεμαι για εσας τους ανδρες αλλα anyways...)I answered him that i of course only listened to death and black metal(which is a lie)and nothing Greek. 'Μαλιστα' απαντησε..καλο σημαδι αυτο σκεφτηκα..το μαλιστα παντα δειχνει πως καποιος δεν συμφωνει η δεν του αρεσει κατι αλλα επειδη ειναι ευγενικος,δεν στο λεει καταμουτρα.

Next question. I asked him where he prefers to go for fun. the answer was expectable. "Σε σκυλαδικα φυσικα και στα μπουζουκια κοπελαρα μου διμετρη.εσυ?¨(i'm actually 173 but i must 'seem' taller through my writing or something..δεν με χαλαει..δεν με χαλαει..) Τι να εκανα τωρα?παρα ητανε ευκολα τα πραγματα! i answered that i only go to some underground bars in Εξαρχια και στο Αν Club..naturally!!!(εκει παω που και που αρα δεν ητανε και πολυ μαγαλο το ψεμα,ετσι δεν ειναι?)

His answer? 'μαλιστα...'

Victory was close..i could feel it..but because i am more times than not a good person,i started feeling a bit mean and thought I'd give him a chance..maybe he wasn't as bad as i thought he was(i doubted it but anyways!) so i asked him another question..an easy one..'Τι σ'αρεσει να κανεις στον ελευθερο σου χρονο *****ακo?(ακομη το κανονικο του ονομα δεν μου το ειχε πει!!) και περιμενω την απαντηση του καθως τoν εβλεπα να την γραφει και σκεφτομoυνα ποσο αδικη και κακοπιστη που ημουνα μαζι του..the answer came then..

'οταν δεν γυμναζω το κορμι μου κοριτσαρα μου,κανω σεξ..ατελειωτο σεξ...εσυ?'

'αααα...εγω???? μπαααα...προτιμω να κοιμαμαι' του απαντησα και ειπα ενα γρηγορα 'χαρηκα αλλα πρεπει να παω να κανω μπανιο τωρα' και 'καλο βραδυ' and hurried off the messenger and deleted him at once. that was that.

το προξενιο μεσω msn was short lived luckily..this must be the new kind of blind dates we used to have when i was young..i suppose these kinds have their advantage though..they're faster and easier to get out of..i think..i'm not sure yet..the only thing i can say for now is..

next please... ;-))))

Just Call Me 'Clutter-Headed'...

I haven't been too well lately.
Mind wise i mean.
Different thoughts clutter my head. It seems as if things are thrown around in there..a thought here..another one there..just like when you go into your room and throw your clothing here and there because you just don't feel like putting them in the right place.
Most of the times i have scattered thoughts..must go hand in hand with my scattered brain i suppose. These thoughts are most of the time a comfort but sometimes they only just stay there,waiting for i have no idea what,but they just sit and let you think about them. sometimes excessive thinking truley does damage if not only to the brain,then to my well being generally speaking.
When things just get too messy up there in the top part of my head,i resort to drastic measures.
I try to organize everything else outside my head.
How?
Last night,after finally finishing work and the extra stuff i do regulary,i managed to get home at around 12:30 in the evening. Instead of doing the most possible thing after being up from seven the previous day would be, i left the warmness of my home and went to my car to clean it. Just the interior but that alone took me around forty minutes. A huge bag of garbage and another one full of things that had 'wandered' accidentally into the car later,i went back home.
That wasn't enough though.
I still had no sleep so i started doing the next best thing..started cleaning out other things..my desk,the CD/DVD drawers (which are always in a mess!!), my kitchen cupboards and the like, my bag (that would be an interesting post..'things that women have in their bags..if they dare to look that is!!')
The time had passed quite quickly and since everybody was still asleep,i couldn't do much more.
So i sat in my perfectly organized living room..
with the perfectly organized drawers and shelves..
I sat perfectly still...
and i thought to myself..
maybe since i got a bit of all this energy out of me it would help me sort out the mess inside my head..
to say it in Greek better..καλα κρασσα!!!
I couldn't handle anymore thinking..i'll leave that to the more brighter and more gifted intellectuals..that's their job anyways..
not mine..
so ill wait til everyone has woken up and do what every mature,sensible person does when they have things to think about and some decisions to make..
I'll fix the closets...

"Press the Replay Button Please..."

One of my favourite buttons on a CD or DVD player, besides the play button,is the replay/rewind one. I love pressing it to rehear a specific part of a song that i like the most or to hear again a part of the lyrics that i didn't pick up on the first,second or third time around..or to re see a special detail that i hadn't paid enough attention to during a film or re watch an image or scene that was worth seeing again because it made me feel something that i wanted to re experience.

I sometimes wish i could take this replay button with me here in real life and use it to replay scenes or pictures in my life. I'd press it to see memories that fill my heart up with warmth and some others that i should probably see again so as to keep somethings alive just as a memory,even if they are hurtful ones.

Trying to make a list of a few such examples,i came up a few clear images in my mind. The clearest of all images is the birth of all my children and especially the very first time i heard their heartbeats in early pregnancy. I'd press the replay button an endless amount of times there just so that I'd be sure to have the pictures and sounds vividly carved in my mind.

Another memory would be the first time that my family and i came to Greece on holidays after living in the States for around eleven years. I still remember the airport full of all these people who i had never met, yet i had grown up with them from a distance and the feeling of their importance was something that my parents had greatly stressed on us while i was growing up. This was one of the most moving moments in my life but more so for my parents. I don't think I've ever seen them as happy as they had been at that time.

My mother's expression when i announced to her that i was pregnant and getting married at 23 is surely another image that i would very much enjoy watching again and laugh incredibly with it as i had done back then when she almost fainted with the news.I always enjoyed shocking my parents with the way i lived and thought but this one was the best!

Happy moments with my husband which i think about more and more as time passes and I wish i had indeed paid more attention then to those moments than to all the bad ones instead. But that's the way life is i suppose..sometimes it is easier to see the greys and blacks than the bright colours.

I'd replay the times that I've passed with my closest of friends and all the laughs that we have passed together. Though there are moments of tears and anger and bitterness,I'd emphasize only on the happy moments because it's there that we brought out the very best in us..

Life is a long string of images and sounds. I don't think that i would be able to stop at a certain point and say that this is where they all end. I wish i could have the replay/rewind button on me though. Sometimes I'm so afraid that some of these images will be forgotten in the deep black hole that exists in my head. There is no replay button though..and what i see or hear today may indeed be forgotten tomorrow but i try not to let that happen..how you may ask? just by keeping a memory alive as much as i can in me...nothing else.

Χρόνια Μου Πολλά!!Να Με Χαίρομαι!!

Most habits die hard.
Old habits die even harder i dare to say.
Today is my name's day.(yes,ετσι το λεμε στα αγγλικα αν και σε πολλες αλλες θρησκιες δεν υπαρχουνε ονομαστικες γιορτες...from what i know atleast..anyways..lucky bastards!!!)
This year though things are a bit different.
This year i don't have to worry about cleaning and getting the whole house in order because all the snooping relatives will come not only to wish me χρονια πολλα αλλα και να δουνε τι 'καλη' νοικοκυρουλα που ειμαι (which i am only when i want to..μου βγαινει το αντιδραστικο μου και εδω).

Really though, have you ever considered when people use your bathroom that they open all your cupboards to see what's in them? To see if you have anything 'hidden' behind the shower curtain like a load of laundry that you didn't have time to put up to dry or that didn't fit in the washing machine so you could hide it from all the curious eyes around?Or what about all the wardrobes and drawers in all the bedrooms?Under beds?Behind doors?Under the cushions of your couch?I just got a shiver with that one..(μου εχει τυχει γιαυτο και οταν εχεις τρια παιδια μπορεις να βρεις απιστευτα πραγματα χαμενα στους καναπεδες!!!)

Don't laugh.It happens. I've heard other 'polite' members of my and other relatives gossipping about other such incidents. Everything is under inspection, from the type of nuts you serve, to the glasses you serve the drinks in, to what you wear. Νot to forget the yearly question and later discussion about 'γιατι δεν εχεις στολισει το σπιτι με τις γιαγιας σου τα πετσετακια?Κριμα.." (whoever created πετσετάκια and thought of putting them on any and EVERY flat surface in the house was TRULY not well in the head!!!) This is not a celebration.It's more like the Inquisition!!

This year i don't have to worry about if the top shelf on my bookcase doesn't have all the books perfectly aligned or if every single cupboard in the kitchen is well organized.There's always a cupboard somewhere that we just shove things in and it ALWAYS happens to get opened when the room is full of people and the Tupperware just comes crashing to the floor and you try to find an excuse like "ΑΧ!! αυτα τα παιδια μου!!!παντα μου πειραζουνε τα ντουλαπια!!!" and my mother-in-law (ex mother-in-law actually..i wonder,do all of the relatives from your ex husband's side become ex-es now? ex-brother-in-law?ex-this?ex-that?) ALWAYS happened to be there at that exact moment and i knew i had lost a few points in the νοικοκυρα department.

This year I'm not going to celebrate. Besides the fact that it's a weekday (thank god!),this year I'm in a new social category. I have the capital D stamped on me, just like they used to do in the New World when women would commit adultery and had to wear a red capital A on them. I'm d i v o r c e d. (separated actually but same difference)

You know, I think that most married couples are afraid of other couples who have separated. Maybe they think it's contagious. There is no other explaining it. Everyone has just seemed to disappear(except for a limited number of friends).Apart from a few awkward phone calls with very uncomfortable long gaps of even more awkward pauses of silence, people don't know what to say. They just look at you with pity in their eyes and say 'κουραγιο' as if I've gotten some kind of incurable disease. Even though it's ridiculous and shows how more ridiculous people are, it's really quite funny though and i get out of having to get the whole house ready for public inspection because of it!!!

But still,it does seem strange. It has been a habit that I've been used to doing for almost fifteen years and habits are the things that remind you that things have changed. Some habits make you feel good and warm like every morning,when i get up,i turn on the radio without even a second thought. But loosing your sense of pattern sometimes makes you feel a bit down in the dumps. For a moment or two of course because then i remember that i don't have to serve anyone with a ridiculous tray this year and then i feel much better!!!

So χρονια μου πολλα και να με χαιρομαι!!and i try to you know. I'm proud that my head is in the clouds most of the times and my feet don't touch the ground when i walk unless I'm getting ready to fall..then i step on my tip toes but just because sometimes i have to...

"Ακομα..."

κοιταω διπλα μου...
εκει εισαι..

σου μοιραζομαι τα ωραια..
τα ομορφα..
τα χαρουμενα..
οι γεματες απο ελπιδα σκεψεις μου..
τα πιο τρελα μου ονειρα..

κοιταω διπλα μου..
εκει εισαι..

ακομα..

σου λεω τις στεναχωριες μου..
σου λεω τα παραπονα μου..
τις πικρες μου..
τις λυπες μου..
κλαιω πανω σου ωρες ατελειωτες..
μεχρι να γινει μουσκεμα ο ωμος σου...
σε ζαλιζω με τα ατελειωτα μου..
σου σπαω την υπομονη σου..

κοιταω διπλα μου..
εκει εισαι..

ακομα..

σου φωναζω..
σου θυμωνω..
σε θεωρω δεδομενο..
σε ζηλευω..
σε προσβαλω με την ανωρημοτητα μου..
σε φτανω στα ακρα σου..
σε πληγωνω..
και παλι σε πληγωνω..

κοιταω διπλα μου..
εκει εισαι..

ακομα..

σε κανω να με αμφισβητησεις..
σε κανω να με κοιτας με απορια..
σε κανω να μη μισεις..
να μη θελεις να μου μιλησεις..
να μη θελεις ουτε να με δεις..
εστω και για λιγο..

ετσι νομιζω..

αλλα οταν κοιταω διπλα μου..
εκει εισαι..

ακομα..

οπως παντα...

και σευχαριστω...

Άφησέ με Παιδί Μου..Παίζω...

Playing on the PC this morning,my four year old and highly opinionated daughter came up to me and asked what I was doing.

"Παίζω γλυκιά μου," της απάντησα.

She stared at me for a moment and then started to laugh with all her heart.

"Τι γελάς καλέ; Παιδάκι δεν είμαι και εγώ;¨"

Her laughing continued some more and then she became a bit serious and looked at me under all her hair that was in her eyes, put both hands an her hips and spread her legs apart a bit..she looked like my mom at that moment and I felt like I was once again twelve and getting busted for doing something.

"Aαααααα!!!!!Τι λες;;;Δεν είσαι παιδί!!! Είσαι μαμά!!!"

I sat stunned and looked at this small monster that I helped create..

I picked her up and gave her a hug while she started to laugh again in a silly way. She knew she had me then. She felt she had indeed won with her last words.

I was left with the thought though.
Could my four year old be trying to put sense into me?
To be giving me the hint to kind of grow up?

I put her back down and thought about it.

No way...

Though being a mom is something that can't be compared to anything else..
One of the 'good things' on my lists of achievements..
I think I'll keep the kid part in me as well..
Kαι ας μου κάνει την 'εξυπνη' η μικρή μου..
και ας μου κάνει παρατήρηση...
I'll just be the 'youngest' mom alive..
Μου πάει γάντι..

It's more fun being a kid anyways...

"Καλώς Τους..."

THEY're back...

i thought i had put THEM away...

i thought i had folded them all away and put them in my closet...far in the back...where they couldn't get all mixed up and in a mess again..where i wouldn't see them and so i wouldn't have to deal with THEM again...

wrong though...

just like in my closet..nothing remains folded and organized for a long time...i always have a way of turning everything upside down..

so what was neatly tucked away in the back..

is right in front of my face again..

THEM...

i thought that we had made a pack..a secret agreement that that was IT..
that whatever we had decided was settled and that's the way things would be from now on..

THEY didn't keep their part of the decision though...

and now THEY'RE here again keeping me up at nights...

and I'm looking at my cell phone again expectantly...not exactly sure what i want to see...

not exactly sure what exactly it is i want..again..

this makes me so angry though!!!

why do THEY do these things to me?? why do i let them??

but now that THEY'RE back..they'll be here to 'torture' me a bit..

and i'll probably go through many more sleepless nights..

and i'll let myself think different things again...go through all the different situations that I've already gone through so many times before...

and because I'm such a sucker i'll remember less this time..remember less of the bad things that have happened...pain does have a way of leaving my mind..it's sometimes so shitty not to be able to keep any kind of grudge..not to be able to put any kind of wall around yourself..even if it's just a small one..just for appearance sake..

all of this because THEY came back...

but who am i kidding??

I'm the one who brought THEM back..

my mind working in overtime did...

my heart having lost that certain 'beat' that used to be there...

damn seconds thoughts...

damn THEM...

Second thoughts...

who invited YOU to come back anyways???

Σκεψεις Μιας Συγχυσμένης Bi...(Bilingual Εννοούσα...GOTCHA!!!)

Λοιπόν. Παίρνω μια βαθιά ανάσα και ξεκινώ.

Είπα να γράψω ακριβώς τι σκέφτομαι απόψε...το μόνο πρόβλημα είναι πως όλες οι σκέψεις μου είναι ενα κουβάρι από Greek and English together. Εκεί που ξεκινάει μία πρόταση ή σκέψη στα ελληνικά,τελειώνει κάπως στα αγγλικά και vise versa of course.

Είναι μεγάλο μπέρδεμα να μπλέκεις δυο γλώσσες. Everything started when i was growing up in the States.(please,don't throw things at the screen!!! My parents decided to move there..I was not asked!) Anyways,στο σπίτι μας απαγορευότανε ΑΥΣΤΗΡΑ any kind of use of English. My parents had secret 'wiring' everywhere and could hear when my brothers and sisters and I dared to speak 'the forbidden language." "ΤΙ ΑΚΟΥΣΑ????" φώναζε με φρίκη η μητέρα μου από το πουθενά..κάγκελο μέναμε όλοι μας.."How the hell did she hear us?" λέγαμε όλοι μεταξί μας. It still remains a mystery.

So,as you can imagine balancing two worlds was not very easy. Με το που πατάγαμε πόδι εκτός σπιτιού,αμέσως κάναμε exchange back to 'normal' language...god knows whatever normal was!!

Βέβαια,θα μου πεις πως έτσι 'μάθαμε΄(ας το πούμε έτσι for argumentative purposes!) τα Ελληνικά και μπορούσαμε να πούμε δύο κουβέντες βρε αδελφέ, όταν ερχόμασταν στα πάτρια εδάφη τα καλοκαίρια αλλά μαζί με τα 'κανονικά μας ελληνικά (please be kind when i say things like this!),φέρναμε μαζι μας και our new and improved Greek that ONLY Greeks who lived in the United States could understand.Να πω μερικά? Let me see...boxia was a common word(meant boxes),as was billia (alias the word bills),and of course a great favourite of mine and all my relatives here was the carpeto (which means carpet or rug)and an all time classic is ta brakia (which NATURALLY meant car brakes!!!)

As a result of all this linguistic confusion while growing up, είμαι ακόμη in confusion even now, as an adult. Μετράω χρήματα ΜΟΝΟ στα αγγλικά και μοιάζω με ψώνιο στο supermarket counting up the money to pay and mumbling to myself "ten,twenty,thirty...". As for directions,that's ANOTHER thorn in my side!! Αριστερά μου λένε στα ελληνικά, right my head understands and the other way around. Αλλάζω ελληνικά ρήματα με English endings and naturally again, the other way around. Όταν θελώ να βριστώ άγρια, ΜΟΝΟ στα ελληνικά μου βγαίνει πιο 'καλό'..πιο 'κακό'..πιο 'πρόστυχο' (μάλλον μας πάει πίο πολύ σαν λαός..δεν ξέρω!), όπως και ολά τα γλυκόλογα. Μου ακούγεται ridiculous να πω "babes, muffin,my sweet pudding' and all those gastronomical metaphors that Americans use to show love. Give me a break!!! 'Μωρό μου' και πάλι 'μώρο μου'!!!

Then again, Greek is such a difficult language that i will NEVER learn how to use it correctly and the spelling sometimes seems like its written in cryptic style. Βέβαια,υπάρχει πάντα η κατάλληλη λέξη στα ελληνικά όταν θέλεις να περιγράψεις αυτό στο συγκεκριμένο,το κάτι especially specific που δεν υπάρχει πάντα στα αγγλικά (seldom I'd say fits better).

So what's my point?Σύγχυση θα έλεγα says it all!!!

I'm now going to bed...it's been a really long one today and I've had a few beers too many I'd say..thanks for sticking this out with me..νομίζω πως μερικές φορές θα γράφω έτσι..potpourri style..why not?έτσι σκέτεται και το μυαλουδάκι μου τις πιο πολλές φορές..μια έτσι...μια αλλοιώς...

I wonder in what language I talk in my dreams at night? Ηmmmm....Ποτέ δεν το θυμάμαι αυτό....



ps Inspiration should be accredited when possible.My inspiration was another blog writer named Tinkerbell, whose writings are surely one of the best forms of self expression I have ever read in Greek.

Η Νεφελη Μου...

It is my youngest child's birthday today. My sweet Nefelh will turn four today at 4 o'clock this afternoon. Each one of my three children represent the way i was feeling when i conceived and carried them those nine remarkable months of pregnancy. This is Nefelh's story.

My Nefelh was conceived on a warm night in august five years ago. I even remember the exact date. My husband and i had been having quite a few personal problems that period and after two weeks of being apart, we both had made peace with ourselves and our relationship and we both felt full of hope that he and i were indeed going to get past whatever personal differences we had then. That night,call it sixth sense or women's intuition or just a feeling, i knew that i would conceive and i still remember the strong feeling of anticipation the few weeks following that evening. I wasn't surprised that a few days later, when we took our planned family holidays to Naxos, i started feeling queasy and nauseous all day and all night. My morning sickness lasted, as did with all my other pregnancies, my whole nine months of pregnancy. It was a small price to pay for such a miracle though.

Nefelh and i had quite a bond all throughout those nine months. I would talk to her continuously and so would her brother, sister as well as her father. She felt a tremendous flow of love from the very beginning. We didn't want to know the sex of our unborn child but i had a feeling it would be a girl. Those nine months passed quite quickly and i enjoyed every moment of being pregnant. It's an incredible feeling to know that you are responsible for the life inside you. I took care of myself as well as i could and waited anxiously for the months to pass.

The nine months passed calmly with happiness and serenity. Any personal problems that we once had were now a thing of the past. We made quite a few excursions that year together with my other two children and i was in excellent health and condition,so all five of us enjoyed ourselves..I'm including Nefelh of course. I continued working til the day before i went to have birth..until that Thursday came that is.

All of my children were born on Thursdays. I had a feeling that this one was also going to be born on a Thursday as well. Of course,almost no one believed my predictions but Nefelh and i had come to our secret agreement. I had ordered an extra closet for the new baby's clothes to be put in since there was no extra room in the house and my father finally finished it Wednesday. The day before i gave birth. That night,one o'clock Thursday morning, i remember sitting on the couch in our living room,having put all the new baby clothes that i had bought in the new wardrobe, stroking my stomach and feeling my unborn child's movements inside me. I told her at that moment that she could now come into this world...everything was ready and we were all waiting for her. A few hours later, while trying to sleep in my bed,my contractions started. It was then six in the morning.

I didn't want to go to the hospital immediately and my doctor advised me to stay at home til the contractions came every twelve minutes but not to wait more than that since it was my third birth and things would probably be much easier and faster than the other times. I,of course, being quite stubborn, decided to stay home til my older children returned from school. I wanted to kiss them goodbye...though i knew that nothing was going to happen,fear was beginning to set in. Giving birth has its share of fear anyways. At that time my contractions were every ten minutes and we left to go from one side of Athens to the other. By the time we reached mid point,the contractions were coming every three minutes and i remember with a huge grin now,how stressed my husband was,beeping his way through traffic and hoping that i wouldn't give birth right there in the car.

From the moment i entered the delivery room to the time my sweet Nefelh was born no more than thirty minutes passed. There was no time for IV,no time to practice breathing exercises, no time for anything. Nefelh was as strong willed as her mother was and she wanted to come out exactly then. After a small push and a huge feeling of relief, my daughter was born and put onto my breast, while her crying mother and father just stared at her. She was completely white skinned and her hair was blond. Her eyebrows were so lightly coloured that you couldn't even see them. She breathed quickly and tried to find something to suck on. Its incredible how babies automatically learn how to suck on anything.as soon as they are born,even though they've been doing it all the previous months as well. I looked at my newborn and introduced myself to her with a gentle voice so she knew that it was my voice she had been hearing all this time.It was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

I then gave her to my husband who had watched the whole birth this time again as he had done with our other two children. He too was at a loss of words and just looked at her,counting her toes and fingers and wondering how this child was so light haired since both of us are quite the opposite. Actually he was even paler than the baby was but managed to keep on his feet.

Those days went by quickly and they became weeks and months and now four years have passed. My little girl resembles myself in many ways. She has quite a talent with words and expressions and can make you just there with your mouth gaping open with her comments. She rarely gets angry. She loves to be hugged and kissed and be told as well as say, how much she's loved or how much she loves you. She knows all my favourite songs and sings them with a passion. She understands when I'm upset or distracted and comes to my lap and hugs me without saying anything. Though my older daughter is by far more stunning in beauty, the youngest has her own way of attracting people's attention,even without having said a thing. Her light hair falls below her shoulders with soft curls and she walks with a jump in her step,just like I do. She always has a smile on her lips and has picked up my sometimes annoying habit of always humming or softly singing a song while walking anywhere. For me,through my eyes, she represents hope and through her character you can understand that she will be a hopeless romantic when she grows up and I'm sure she will believe that there is a pot of gold at the end of all rainbows.

When Nefelh today will blow out her birthday candles and make her wish,she'll probably wish for a new Barbie doll or new stickers which she loves sticking around the house. I will also make one for her though, just in case hers is not heard. It's the same wish i make every night for all my children and those i love, just before i go to sleep, just in case there is someone, somewhere who is listening.

Happy birthday my dear Nefelh..it's your laugh and smile that make tears of love fill my eyes..and it is your hope that makes mine still live inside of me...

My Sister and I...

Today is one of my sisters birthday. She is the second girl and the third in line of five children. As i was trying to decide what i was going to write for my post tonite, i suddenly understood that i have never written something about or for her so instead of writing about my insecurities and frustrations and whatever thoughts i have that can surely wait for another day, I'd like to paint a painting with words about my sister. My sister Peggy.

My sister and i are very unlike any way you look at us..from character and personality, to height and weight. She is not tall and she would be considered as delicately built.She has a very low profile as a person as well. You will rarely hear her talk either exceptionally loud or shout that way either. She rarely shows extreme sides in any kind of feeling.She is quite close to herself in her thoughts and i think that she prefers her own company to anyone else most of the time. Though she's turning thirty-five today,she is still easily passed for a twenty-five year old. When she was young, a teenager to be more exact, she would get extremely angry and annoyed when people used to think she was around twelve. At that age all we want is to look older anyways. Now that shes grown up a bit though,it doesn't seem to bother her anymore!

I wouldn't say that growing up was easy for my little sister. She was constantly compared to me by our parents and by our teachers. I felt quite guilty about this when i was young but didn't know what to do. I think that being the middle child must be the worst. You're not as old as to get all the priorities that parents distribute that way, and you re not as young to be the center of all the attention as is the case with the youngest children. This was how it was for her as well.

My sister and i always shared a bedroom. I remember uncountable nights when we were both young,when we used to hold hands since our beds were quite close to each other,til both of us fell asleep. I have fond memories of doing all the housework that my mom used to make us do an a daily basis together and we would pretend to act out roles so that the chores would seemingly appear to be more enjoyable. I also recall the hundreds of nights that i made her sleep with the light on since i was busy reading books or writing in my notebooks. She never complained. She never grumbled. Not even then and still not not.

I thank my sister for putting up with me all those years when i used to sleep with the radio plastered against my ear and slowly humming all my favourite songs til the early nights of the morning. I thank her for putting up with my obsession with Duran Duran, the Smiths and the Cure and for her giving me her closet space so i could tape up my favourite poster of Morrissey and Robert Smith since mine had already had one of Simon LeBon there. I thank her for hearing my continuous blabber about everything,from boys to music,diets and heartaches,at all times of the day and especially at night. I remember with nostalgia all the conversations we used to have at a whispers sound so that our mother would not hear a word of what we were saying. I was continuously getting into different situations and mostly into trouble and since she was the complete opposite,her views did get a bit of sense into me quite a few times. But mostly i remember the incredible laughs and laughter that we shared. Laughing until we cried with tears and rolled down on the ground. Many times we got ourselves into trouble because we couldnt stop ourselves from laughing.

I apologize to my dear sister though for having been the reason that there were always so many arguments in the house and her always trying to set things back into place in her own way and the endless times she kept me company when i was truly down. I apologize for having 'used' her many times in my different plans to out trick or outwit our parents to do what i wanted. I was always headstrong and got over whatever consequences i had to endure for my actions quite easily. For her however,it wasn't always that easy and many times she felt sad for quite a long time..mostly sad for me. I apologize to Peggy that i hadn't supported her as much as i should have when she did decide to get married one fine day so many years ago. I thought she was rushing and i only wanted to protect my little sister and i still remember the harsh words we had then exchanged. It was the first and only time we had ever truly argued. I just hope she understands that my intentions were not bad.

You know, my sister Peggy and i aren't as close as many other sisters are. We don't get into very personal matters easily,though occasionally it does happen. She's a bit strict about certain things and believes that i should act a bit more mature than i generally do. Maybe she's right sometimes. But even though she doesn't know it because I've never told her, i do admire my sister. Though she has been living under difficult circumstances these past years, she's managed to do it with a lot of self respect for herself and her family. She's made peace with herself and her decisions and lives calmly. This is something i wish i could have the ability to do many times with myself and not always be on a self discovery crusade that seems as if it will never end.

Happy birthday my dear Peggy...you know that i do love you though in our family we never express such words of sentiment. I could only wish you the very best that life has to offer and that you will always give me the honour of being by your side when you need me to because you know what? Ive always been there and will always be there, even if you never do need me...

When I Close My Eyes...

Sometimes, when i close my eyes, my perception of dreaming and reality become one and i have difficulty in separating the two. Do i worry about this? Not really. I believe that all our deep passions, whether they are ones filled with grief or desire, come out while we are sleeping. It's with this thought in mind that i wrote the following feelings down.

why is it when i close my eyes
that i see you better
hear you clearer
feel your touch as if you were by?

why is it when i close my eyes
that the image i see
fills myself with light
and the darkness disappears
and you are once again here?

why is it when i close my eyes
i can smell you near
i can sense you by
but only for a moment...
and then once again
just like you always do..
i can feel you disappear?

why is it when i close my eyes
the feeling of loss comes back
and the wind of sadness lightly touches my lips
and enters back inside myself?

why is it when i close my eyes
that all these feelings come back to life..
come back to visit me every evening
every dawn...
and the question of why remains
til the next time...
til the next evening...
til tomorrow...
til forever?

why is it when i open my eyes
i see the real light around me again
but the darkness inside me returns...
your voice inside me hushes again
til all that is heard is quietness..
my loneliness...
my emptiness?

why is it when i open my eyes
i feel what i pretend to feel...
see what i pretend to see ...
live how i pretend to live...
til its time once again..
to close my eyes..
and see you once again here..
between reality and dreaming..
for a single moment..
a single flash?

i wonder when i will finally wake up...

Mistakes..Are They Easy to Just Erase Away?

When i was a child, when i made a mistake, it would usually mean that i couldn't get that new set of markers that i was planning on getting when my mom would take us shopping every Saturday afternoon. In more serious conditions, when my mom or dad used to really get quite fed up with me and with something i did, stricter measures would be taken and this would even include my not being allowed to go out of the house and play with all my brothers and sisters and i would be left crying my 'unjust' fate indoors but at the same time being stubborn and pretending that it didn't really matter anyways. The truth was that inside i could have burst into two from jealousy!

As a young adult, mistakes had their own significance and consequences afterwards. Most of the time, I kind of knew what the outcome was going to be but since I had the luxury of being still quite young, i could most of the times get away with anything that came my way. If though sometimes, the consequences were a bit more serious, again the fact that youth does allow you to make mistakes also made any of the pain and heartache less difficult to manage.This is indeed the greatness of youth!!!

Now though,as i am in my late thirties, i look back on all my past mistakes up til adulthood with nostalgia. Now, any mistakes that i do in fact make have more serious consequences on myself and on those around me. I sometimes feel that though I've gotten over any kind of mistake that i may have put myself in, and though I've paid the price for it personally more than enough times to compensate for it, i feel like its waiting for me around the corner, as I'm walking down the street...waiting for me to pass the corner and for it to spring out in front of me with a huge scream and scare the life out of me once again. Even the mistake itself wont let me forgive and forget...

Of course I'm not so naive as to compare my mistakes when i was nine to the ones i have made now in my thirties. There is no comparison whatsoever and the consequences are by far more serious now. Nonetheless, when i was nine, at that point, the mistakes seemed as serious as they could be and they were if you think about it. Each age period has its own worries and you cant expect any nine year old to have the problems of any adult and this is the way it should be.

The weight though of my adulthood mistakes is still quite heavy on my shoulders and its the reason that many times, i am in fact, second guessed and doubted by those around me. Though they mean best, it is in fact quite difficult to live something like that over and over again. Of course the main responsibility is mine but still..is it really so difficult to forgive and forget? This seems quite impossible from what I've seen so far.

All the people i know around me have in one way or another each made their own share of mistakes, directly or indirectly, purposefully or not. I look at them and most of them do just get over them without a second thought. It's i that torment myself i suppose about it. I honestly believe that some of us, those of us who in fact do think about what they've done at the end of the day before they go to sleep, do learn from their faults. Especially those of us who hurt as a result of them.

As i write on a piece of paper my thoughts or other kinds of calculations, my mistakes can easily be erased with a very good rubber or eraser. This is the 'safe' way to think that is. But nothing is completely erasable...even if you write in pencil. If you look closely at the paper you can still see that something else had been written there before it. A small smug is still on the paper as well as a few leftover dirty pieces of rubber. So are mistakes easy enough to just erase away? I suppose I've answered my own question...

My Friend Liza

I've never understood the significance that 'celebrating' the date that people passed away had and i do admit that it always made me feel quite depressed. I believe that the real importance lies in acknowledging people when they are alive, when they can appreciate whatever it is that someone has to say to them and maybe it would give them something in return that they could on their part, use positively in life. Having lost a friend three years ago today and looking around myself and those around me, i have come to the conclusion that sometimes people need a date to sit down and remember someone..

Liza was not a very good friend of mine. Her husband was good friends with mine and we in turn also got to know each other. She was a very career orientated woman who worked in the very demanding world of advertising. She was very head strong about things and you couldn't really describe her as an extremely sensitive kind of person. She was quite firm in her opinions and convictions and many times was disliked because of this. There were however, other sides of her personality too but just as is the case with most of us, few of us take the needed time and effort to search and discover them, especially if it takes quite a bit of extra effort as was the case with her.

When Liza though became a mother, we immediately shared a bond that all mothers share and our conversations became more frequent and we also became closer as friends,though we never passed that invisible line that exists that changes friendships to something more. It wasn't in her personal style to have such close bonds with many women anyways and i did understand this. The truth was however,that we were very much different in personalities and i always disagreed politely to what she said because my ideas and attitudes towards life and people were much different than hers.I think that she appreciated this when i do think back on it now. Most of our common friends were very quick and firm in disagreeing and arguing with her and great quarrels used to take place which many times led to very bad endings. She was not liked by many but then again, she really didn't care. It was just the kind of person that she was.


Liza was diagnosed with breast cancer while she was nursing her few month old baby son. This was my first contact with any kind of cancer and to say that i lost the wind in me is not an understatement. Why is it when we are young that we think bad things can only happen to older people? That anything and everything can happen to everybody else apart from us? This obviously is not the case and i think i grew up overnight that day.


Liza's battle with cancer lasted five years. In those five years my family and hers went on holidays in the summers together, as well as different excursions during the different seasons that passed. I was not by her side during the difficult times that she passed through her numerous chemotherapy sessions...she didn't want anybody to be anyways. I wasn't by her side when she spent days in incredible pain and stayed locked up in her home. We always shared the 'good days' that she was lucky to have together..this was just as important i think. I look back on these days with fondness and with bitterness though. Liza was not embarrassed to show that she had cancer. She would walk around without a hat and people felt uncomfortable about seeing her without any hair,about knowing that she indeed had cancer. One summer, her husband and their then four year old son all shaved their heads as a symbol of support for her and that picture always gave me such a smile on my face. Even now that i think back on it,i still smile...

People though were impolite to say the least with her. Many times she was the topic and the sight of very indiscreet stares and comments. Being on the beach and wearing her swimsuit, she knew that her mastectomy could be seen but she didn't seem to mind. She got power out if it i think and was very quick to answer back to anyone who did stare a bit too long at her. I don't know if i could ever have had the strength that she had to confront not only her illness but also everyone else. She had only asked me one thing in all those five years that we stood by her in her fight and that was not to look at her with pity in my eyes because that was the one thing that was really killing her. I think that this was one of the most difficult things i ever had to do , so little when compared to what she had to go through on a daily basis.

I do believe that we all have the inner strength that we many times do need in certain situations. I looked in myself and found the way to get the pity out of my eyes and supported my friend as well as i could. I admit though that when the door closed and she wasn't anymore in sight,i used to break down and cry for her..so much for being strong but it was the best i could do.

I have never met a stronger person than Liza and i doubt if i ever will. Though she never admitted it herself, she knew deep down that she would get beaten by cancer since it was spreading very quickly throughout her body. Slowly she began growing less attached to her son and giving her husband the major role in his everyday life. She was always there but also wasn't at the same time. At first i was quick to criticise this and ask myself 'what is she doing for gods name?' but as time passed and she became worse,i realized that she had done this for the sake of her son..so his loss would not be as great as it would have if she had hoovered over him twenty-four hours of the day. Is there any other show of selflessness? I fail once again to find anything else.

It saddens me that now, three years after her death, that there isn't a single picture of her in her son's room, or one in the house where he lives in. A picture does not of course bring back a person but it is an indication of something. When i look at this eight year old now, i see in him his mother. Besides his obvious resemblance to her, his voice sounds just like his mother's and deep in his brown eyes, there is the same expression as his mother always had..i find myself many times staring at him and my mind drifting...

Unfortunately so, the same disappointment i also feel for myself . I don't think about Liza as much as i should and i haven't visited her grave to leave a bunch of her favourite flowers in a long time. There are no excuses for that. But if there is such a thing as life after death,in whatever form that may be, she knows that i did love her but more importantly i admired her for her fight and stand those five difficult years for her. She taught me what it meant to really love someone enough to let them go...this is what she did with her son and this is her greatest accomplishment as a person. How many of us are given the opportunity to show ourselves in our life and to take advantage of it? If we are honest with ourselves, few of us have.

Thank you Liza for letting me grow next to you ...for letting me see what it is to have self respect...for what it truly means to be a mother...

Για Σενα

The following thoughts are dedicated to a person that has been in my life since that cool evening on October 24, l987 where i mistakenly took the same bus that he too had mistakenly taken that same evening. When our eyes crossed as we looked at each other through our reflection in the dirty window on that bus, something more than just a spark flickered from both of us. Now, almost 18 years later, our roads have separated. Although if i rationally think about it, i know i have made the correct decision to move ahead in my life, my heart doesn't always agree and i hope that writing something will make it hurt less. Though English is my native tongue, I've decided to write this in Greek because he and i always talk in Greek and it is the only language where i can express my true feelings towards him and towards myself for him..


Αποφασισα να σου γραψω αυτο τωρα γιατι ποτε δεν θα το δεις...
ποτε δεν θα το διαβασεις...
ποτε δεν θα το καταλαβαινες..
ποτε δεν θα με καταλαβεις..

Πανε τοσους μηνες απο τοτε που εφυγες..
αλλος τοσος καιρος που αν και μαζι..
χωρια ζουσαμε...
ο καθενας απο εμας χαμενος στον εαυτο του..
στο θυμο του..
στην συγχυση του.

Καποτε, καθε φορα που σε κοιτουσα στα ματια
τον εαυτο μου εβλεπα μεσα σε αυτα..
και εσυ στα δικα μου
τον ιδιο σου εαυτο.

Τωρα βλεπω να με κοιτας..
και να αναρωτιεσαι σιωπηλα
αν υπαρχει ακομη κατι μεσα στα δικα μου?
κατι που να δειχνει..
κατι που να λεει..
κατι αλλο απλα
αλλα να ειναι μονο για σενα?

Δεν αφηνω τον εαυτο μου να λυγισει..
να δειξω τον πονο που περνω..
αλλα καθε φορα που σου γυριζω την πλατη..
ενω εσυ εχεις δει το πλατυ χαμογελο στα χειλη μου..
τα δακρυα πεφτουνε σιγα σιγα απο τα ματια μου
και αλλα τοσα τρεχουνε ασταματητα μεσα μου..

Δεν υπαρχει μερα που να μη σε σκεφτομαι..
δεν υπαρχει γωνια στο σπιτι να μη σε βλεπω..
υπαρχεις παντου και λειπει η παρουσια σου..
η απουσια σου ειναι φανερη...
παντου.

Βλεποντας τα ματια τον παιδιων μας
ειναι σαν να εισαι μπροστα μου παντα
και μου λειπεις..
δεν προκειται αυτο ποτε να τελειωσει...
τιποτα δεν βοηθαει να σε σκεφτομαι λιγοτερο..
τιποτα δεν βοηθαει να μου απαλυνει τον πονο..
να μου λειπεις λιγοτερα...
να σε σκεφτομαι λιγοτερο..
να σε αγαπω λιγοτερα
για να γινουνε ολα τοσο πολυ πιο ευκολα.

Λυπαμαι που καπου στο δρομο μας...
καπου μεσα στα δυσκολα της ζωης..
στις δυσκολιες που φερνει το περασμα του χρονου..
χαθηκαμε εμεις οι δυο..
που το χερι που απλωσαμε για βοηθεια
ποτε δεν το ειδε ο αλλος..
και ετσι μονοι μας..
εσυ και εγω..
χαθηκαμε
λιγο λιγο καθε μερα..
μεχρι που δεν γινοτανε να δει ο ενας τον αλλον πια..
και ας ημουνα εγω μπροστα σου..
και ας ησουνα εσυ μπροστα μου..

Αποφασισα να σε αγαπω το ιδιο ομως..
να μη προσπαθω να σε αγαπω λιγοτερο..
να μη προσπαθω να σε ξεχασω..
να μη προσπαθω να σε κακολογω αλλο πια στον εαυτο μου..
σε αγαπησα ολοκληρωτικα...
εγωιστικα...
απολυτα...
σε ολα τα ακρα φτασαμε και οι δυο..
εγω με σενα..
και εσυ με μενα...
αλλες φορες με αγαπη
αλλες φορες με μισος
αλλα ητανε ολα πραγματικα αισθηματα..
αληθινα...
θα μεινω με αυτη την αναμνηση για παντα..
αυτο μου φτανει..
ελπιζω...

The Icicle that Gave Me Away

It was early December of 1985. I was sixteen years old then. Since i grew up in Wisconsin, we always had very heavy and freezing winters. We had already had around a meter of snow outside and the temperature was below zero. We then lived in a two floor Tudor house and from my bedroom window on the first floor, you could see the small woods that our neighbor had of pine and fur trees which were all laced with snow. I often used to gaze out of my bedroom window during the winters. That night there was a full moon because i remember the night looking so full of light.

This was the time that i was in love for the first time. He was twenty one years old and i had had a crush on him since i was thirteen. I remember going to church on Sundays and staring at him, my mind daydreaming and not paying any attention to what our priest was saying. All GreekAmericans go to church by the way on Sundays. Not because they're that religious, but more because it's a way to keep the Greek feeling and spirit alive.

The years had passed and i finally grew up enough for him to pay attention to me and our age difference wasn't that important anymore. At that time, i was in the choir and he sat with his parents. I remember feeling so nervous every Sunday but at the same time so excited. This somehow turned into a relationship at one point, and he and i were an official 'couple'. Official to everyone that is, except my parents.

My parents didn't believe that children needed anyone else in their lives besides the family. Since i had two brothers and one other sister at that time (my second sister came a few years later), this was all the company i needed in their logic. I, on the other hand, was always a rebel..and many times a rebel without a cause. Disagreeing and fighting back my parents seemed as natural as drinking water and i showed it to them on a daily basis. It was only natural that they didn't know about my so-called 'relationship', though news of this kind spread very quickly in the Greek community because everyone wanted their son/daughter to marry another Greek.

Meeting with John was difficult though. I used to skip out of classes often, make up excuses to go the library for school papers and reports but things became more and more difficult as time passed. Drastic measures had to be taken. This is where the cold night in December takes place.

I had decided to 'escape' the house at night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, to go and visit my knight in shining armour since it was his birthday. I shared my room with my younger sister and i still remember the shock in her eyes when i told her my master plan. That night, after my mother had kissed us goodnight and left to go the her bedroom (which was on the ground floor),my plan started. I had hidden sheets in my closet earlier on in the day and with my sister, we had knotted them together to make it look like a long rope...this was my way of getting down from first floor. I put my stuffed animals in my bed and tried to make them look like me under the covers . Yes indeed!!! I had certainly been watching TOO much television!

I opened the window..it was twelve o'clock...this was considered extremely late in suburbia American by the way. The 'rope' was tied to the bed and as soon as i threw it out of the window, i made my way out of the window. It was snowing i remember and the snow does make a sound as it falls in the night. I remember that sound well. I balanced my way out and jumped to freedom!! As i came down though, i clumsily hit against an extremely long icicle that had been hanging outside the window and it crashed against the house making an extremely loud noise in the quietness of the night. I stood motionless in the snow,wearing only jeans and a light sweater. I could see John's car waiting for me at the corner but i still stood there motionless, waiting to see what would happen.

The lights came on on the ground floor suddenly. For a moment i just stood there and felt that this was it...i was really in big trouble. I looked up at my sister who was still at the window and told her to go to bed and pretend that she hadn't known anything and i turned around and ran as fast as i could to john's car. Since i was in trouble anyways, i thought i might as well enjoy myself and that was exactly what i did until it was time to go back home and face the music.

I may have gone through a living hell when i returned home, and my relationship with John may not have lasted for more than a year or so, but this memory will always stay with me. i remember it with fondness and I'm quite proud of myself that i did have enough guts in my stomach to jump out of a window. There was only one thing that i hadn't calculated on-how i was going to get back up. When i did get back home though, all the lights were on. I remember standing out of the door for a while and taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell...

Speaking with the Night

After a day of running back and forth, doing things left and right, being stuck in traffic for incredible amounts of wasted time, its finally evening and I'm finally alone with my thoughts. Its a great thing coming home from a full day,kicking your shoes off the minute you walk into the door and stripping all pieces of clothing as you head towards the shower and washing off all the pollution and dirt from on you. What a relief it is indeed!

Ive always believed that the day has been overrated. Too much emphasis has been given to what we 'have' to do during the light hours of the day. Most of us are on the run,trying to meet deadlines,trying to do as many things as we possibly can in a ten hour working day(who works for eight hours anymore anyways?), aiming to finish whatever it is we think we have to before the sun sets. Is it any wonder that we loose track of the time..of ourselves...of our thoughts?

I enjoy sitting up at night. There is a certain tranquility that you will never be able to find during the day. This tranquility however has nothing to do with the of lack noise that there is in the evening. There is something else that exists in the darkness of the hours. Now that i sit in front of my PC, all i can hear is the hum of the computer, an occasional murmur from one of my sleeping children and the soft sound of the CD that I've put in to listen to. But if i listen a bit more carefully and more closer, i will hear the sound of quietness. Quietness. This is the sound that lets me hear my thoughts. That allows me to hear my worries and insecurities..things that I'm too afraid to think about during the day. Quietness offers me the ability to enjoy the feeling of satisfaction from positive and rewarding things that have happened during the day.

All of my most important decisions have been made during the night. All of my tears and heartache I've felt most at night as well, when no one can see me and I'm naked in front of my own truth and my own thoughts. My most passioned moments have also taken place during this time,when there is no thing such as rules and boundaries..the night shares no such laws...

All of my three children's births all began in the small hours of the night as well,when i had in fact calmed and let the peace of everything around me settle into me as well...these events aren't just accidental or coincidental..they all happen for the same reason...its the night speaking to me...

I wish i had more strength to stay up more and enjoy the night, its gifts and conversations more and to the fullest, but the fatigue of the day is just more overpowering most of the time and gently, but steadily, it makes my eyelids close gradually and whatever will i do have left, slowly leaves me. The night however will take on another,different role now. It will cover itself around me, just like the soft,warm blanket that i cover myself with before i fall asleep. As i lay down on my pillow,i will concentrate on the darkness that surrounds me and the tranquility that has covered me and slowly, just like a baby that is slowly being put to sleep by a soft lullaby, i will also drift away..into sleep.. into my own personal night...

Be careful of the Potholes

Yesterday i was warned by a friend to be careful of the potholes before going for a drive down by the seaside. I don't know why but his comment stuck in my mind and made me start thinking about it. I had wanted to get away from a few things that were troubling my mind for the last few days, and just sitting on an empty beach,staring at the sea, is enough to clear my head of all the cobwebs that occasionally (or quite often if i am to be honest) fill my head and make things a bit difficult to understand.


Sitting on the sand that still had a lot of dampness in it, i watched my children running around the edge of the shore, sometimes going dangerously near the water and my wondering if i had brought an extra pair of shoes with me in the trunk of the car..i doubted if i had but i didn't have the heart to tell them to stop or be careful and so went back to my own thoughts.


There is something so peaceful about being on an empty beach. The smell of the sea is crisp and you can feel it on your nostrils as you inhale in the cool air. Your eyes look right and left and all they can see is the wide open space in front of them, the deep blue of the water and of the sky, and the few boats that are still docked out on the sand. The sun was out yesterday and i could feel it slowly burning on my head and back. It felt as a warm and friendly touch. It was still too early in the year for the sun to feel hot,hostile and unfriendly. Looking around though,i realized that an empty beach shares together with the picture of peacefulness, the image of loneliness as well. You can feel its eager await for the summer and for the hundreds of people to sit themselves on it and enjoy themselves in any possible way.


So i sat there, daydreaming about things and letting my thoughts go here and there. Then it hit me. My friends words about potholes. I started wondering about these potholes that we come across in the streets. Some of them look shallow and painless but when we drive across them,we shudder from the fall. Others look deeper than they really are and though we take extra care not to drive over them quickly, we realize that there was,in fact no need to be so cautious. Then there are the 'suspicious' ones that are covered with water and you cant tell they're pot holes til you drive straight into them and feel your car crash into the hole. Those indeed hurt the most!! Last but not least,lets not forget the instances when were too lazy to avoid these 'traps' on the road and purposefully decide to drive right over them, like were trying to get even with them. What am i trying to say you re probably wondering to yourself. Good question!!


Sitting and analyzing potholes brought to mind the similarity they bare to relationships we have with people specifically. Let me explain before you stop reading this thought. How many times do we try to 'protect' ourselves from people who we think may not be right for us? (avoiding the pothole)How many other times do we get into relationships that seem destructive and are clearly to end up at a dead end from the beginning?(not avoiding the pothole and driving straight through) Lets not forget the instances when we put up our guard so much that in the end, all we accomplish to succeed is nothing even worth mentioning.(being extra careful driving through a pothole that in fact was nothing) And of course, the most most painful of all instances, when we do fall head over heels with someone which later on turns out to be the complete opposite of what we expected,devastating us and everything in the end.(the pothole that seemed harmless but in fact,sent the car to the mechanic)


You know,maybe comparing relationships to potholes is not the most poetic of metaphors that i could have used, but it proves the point. What good is using an abstract idea or concept to describe something more essential if practical contact and understanding cannot be acquired? Potholes are in our everyday life..the same goes for relationships. No two potholes are the same as no two relationships are either. My only doubt now as i write this is this. When he warned me to be careful of the potholes, was it the literal or metaphorical use of the word he was referring to? Good question...

Who is lied to in the end?

As it being April Fools Day today,I feel a bit summoned to write a few thoughts on the topic. The time is quite late in the evening (or early in the morning..take your pick) and it is at this time that I can hear my thoughts truly. The house is still and quiet and if i do concentrate on listening for a bit, I can hear my children's breathing as they peacefully sleep and dream of images that only children have the luxury of seeing.


I myself have gone through many stages of lying. Growing up with very authoritative parents, I found lying to my friends a comfort and a way to justify my parents illogical ideas on rearing children. I remember trying to find 'good excuses' for why my mother never let me go to any of my friend's birthday parties, or why it was that i could never bring home a friend to play with and the like. At that time, the lying became natural and it slowly began to be a part of my everyday existence. Actually it was a good escapism from the pressure that I felt.


Reaching adulthood and becoming more independent,I didn't 'need' to lie about anything to anyone anymore. The tremendous weight was finally lifted from my shoulders and a life without 'creative excuses' was indeed better than any other i had experienced before that and i continued this line of thinking in all my sides of life,professionally and personally. It had become something that i and those around me,were proud of.


However,things do have a way of changing on you and hold habits do die hard many times. During a 'rough' (to say it mildly) period in my life, I found lying again to be a good way of covering up mistakes and circumstances. This time though, it wasn't lying to friends or colleagues or even to family members. It was much worse and the consequences were completely the furthest thing from my head. I began to lie to myself. I was now both holding the knife and stabbing myself at the same time. Lying to myself and judging situations the way I wanted to see them may have brought domestic peacefulness for quite a long time, but personally speaking, I had indeed lost my own sense of self. So who was the greatest victim in that case? The one lying or the one being lied to? Unfortunately, the answer and the person was the same for both questions...


Why do people lie many times? The only just reason that i can say is that the truth is indeed too painful to come to grips with. I won't lie now and say that there haven't been quite a few times where i would have preferred to have been lied to rather than to have been given the raw truth. But then when i think about it sensibly, i do understand the fact that someone being honest with you is as rare as knowing someone who doesn't lie..it is indeed rare and precious....