Not a love poem

Writing about love should be easy. It is all about expressing your most positive feelings.

The words should be flowing like the water of a cataract, the satisfaction and happiness streaming like a tidal wave.

It is anything but...

Writing about love is a form of art and as far as I've experienced art requires a great deal of effort.

It demands each word to pushed out of you like the birth of a child. 

Hard, laboured, breathless work.

Performance that leaves you tired and empty.

This is writing about love. 

Unrequited or not, romantic or troubled, happy or difficult

Love expresses itself like the water of a broken dam, sweeping everything in its path and claiming it forever as its own.

KISSES!

E.

The poet inside me feels…

My love is a spring flower caught in a cold winter's day, beautiful but doomed.

It is a burning candle trying to keep the flame alive against a roaring wind.

It is a villain in a Disney movie, destined to certain death in the end.

My love, a feeling drowning in shallow waters, 

standing no chance against the riptide of reality.

 

My heart is a phoenix, always reborn from its ashes.

It is a bright-eyed optimist, forever ready to forgive.

It is my most extraordinary feature,

constantly loosing from my mind but never giving up.

 

And my mind...

My mind is all over the place.

It is trying to figure out how to settle between the things that I need and those that I desperately want.

 

KISSES!

E.

One more second chance

 A couple of months after leaving Santorini, it became apparent to me that I would very much like to return. To work in the hospitality industry is to live a nomadic life and to find a place which you love, which makes you feel like you belong, without having your home there without even meeting the basic criteria which you set for a homebase…. Well, it is rare, it is precious and it cannot be wasted.

 The distance I took from the island, gave me the opportunity to really appreciate it. So I decided to go back. It was all coming along excellent. I was set up for a really good job to the place I chose –not wind up to- when everything changed.

 The pandemic shook the world from its axis and deprived me from the chance of returning. Of seeing the things that I had just looked, of cherishing the things I had taken for granted, of living where I merely used to survive.

 We all know the saying ‘You don’t know what you have until you lose it’. We’ve all experienced it, but did we learn from it? If I’m being honest, no. Rarely do we learn, until it is too late. The question is, do we get a second chance to do it right? That is up to fate, but fate rarely grants us this gift.

The truly good things in life come only once and if we do not appreciate them the moment they’re happening we are doomed to live with the memories. So do it, appreciate them, show it to them, put your ego aside for a moment and deaply, honestly love them. 

 The alternative for me is terifying because I am really not ready to live asking for second chances.

Are you?

KISSES!

E.

All the losses that we've gained

 The human brain is conditioned to accept loss. To compensate for the things that it cannot have or adapt to function without them. Inability to succeed at either leads to insanity. I guess it’s why they’re saying ‘From all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most’.

 With all the recent turmoil I had the time to ponder about all that are gone, and celebrate not only all that I still have but also the new ones that arrived.

 I feel that I don’t need to go into specifics.

 I have not suffered a devastating loss.

 I was not given an extraordinary present.

 In my pensive state and while social distancing, my mind wandered all the way from mourning, to acceptance and eventually eagerness for those yet to happen. Because with the world turned upside down, I need to believe that when life takes something with one hand, gives back with the other.

 If not, then what is the point?

KISSES.

E!

Before, Now, After

 People who suffer from Cystic Fibrosis have to keep a distance from each other. Breaking this rule would endanger their very lives. Patients with C.F. who come in contact with one another run an extremely high risk of infection and subsequent death.

It is very unfortunate, thinking how they are battling with the same disease, they’re facing the same problems and they probably have numerous things in common, but they are forbidden to socialize with the very same people who can fully understand what going through Cystic Fibrosis means.

 It seemed just a trivial fact for me Before. Before the pandemic. Now I can taste a little of their bitter sacrifice. Now that I cannot trace your smile with my fingers, I cannot feel your warm breath whispering in my ear, Now that it is impossible for me to get lost in your hug. Because Now the same rule applies to everyone.

I miss you but I will be patient, I will wait for the After. I will wait with a smile if that means that I will get to see you After with the most precious gift, your health intact.  

KISSES!

E.

A letter to my baby sister's future boyfriend

I loved her before there was even she to love.
I adored the very idea of her and eventually cherished her presence.
I grew up watching her and preparing for your arrival.
You will have to pass my test with flying colors, if you don't want to end up as an unresolved mystery disappearance.
Your name will never be spoken with tears.
Your presence will always have to be a protective one.
Stand tall beside her don't slouch behind her.
I grew up a pianist, I know how to correct a posture, I learn to detect an error in rythm and if I find one between yours I will resolve it, probably with pain.
I will ask you a lot of questions, all of them a trap, an invitation to be cocky.
So be weary in your answers, there will be no second chance.
But above all remember she is your queen and you will have to start mining for diamonds to put in her crown.
She deserves no less...

 This post will be short and sweet, and, I really hope, motivational.

 I was in my first run at my hometown after eight months when I noticed these new additions to the scene. Anchors seem appropriate for a lovely seaside town, but they got me thinking…

Anchors are made to hold something down, to stop its course. Literary and metaphorically. While I was running I was thinking their metaphorical sense, all the people and the circumstances that tried to weigh me down and how one by one I overcame them. Some slowly but steadily, some quickly and without hesitation. Haven’t we all gone through events that tried to anchors us? Yes, but have they succeeded? That is solely up to our power of will. With that in mind I have only one thing to say and you should really pay attention here.

 I will not let ANYONE or anything to stop me from my course, to keep me from swimming, to halt me from even flying. You can try your damndest, I dare you!

KISSES.

E!

 One of the questions that I have received more than a couple of times is why I post so infrequently. I do not have a lot of followers but those I do have are dedicated readers. And while I mentioned it, you guys rock for reading my ramblings, thank you!

 Today is the day you will finally get your answer.  The way things go is that I hear/see/experience something that I find maybe funny or beautiful and sometimes amazing enough to want to share it with my online gang. I feel that I absolutely I have to write about it. How could I not? It so noteworthy! And then I do… and I H A T E it, I mean deep-seated, visceral hate and disdain. How could I have written something so dull and ordinary? It is glaringly obvious that the subject matter is extremely trivial, the wording is all wrong, and apparently the ability to express myself in written form has deserted me –probably forever! The frustration is building up and quickly becomes too much to bear. At this point, I shred my paper and toss my pen away –I am old-fashioned gal this way, I still use the traditional method. All this description sounds pretty dramatic, correct? Well, it feels that way too –even though, in no way is… nevertheless, my notebook will not see any action for days.

 I will find myself in this predicament for at least four or five times. I saw, I wrote, it conquered me (my creativity, that it). The problem is that I get easily fascinated and excited so the urge to express myself is growing stronger, despite the fact that when I do, I question my ability to see the difference between what it is worth uploading and/or if it is, my skill to articulate it in a manner to be readable.

 As long as these thoughts are pestering me, all the things I want to communicate are becoming words that fester inside my brain. I try to ignore them but on the back of my head, the part of my intellect that does not give up, convinces me that I have to try again and again, otherwise all the words in my mind will force my head to explosion. Ridiculous, I know but it is every writer’s truth ( of course, now I  have to apologize for using the word ‘writer’ so fast and loose for describing myself and move on…)

 The time has come for stage two of my creative process. I start to scrawl whatever I have found to be more interesting, and by this I mean whatever subject I am thinking compulsively. After all, a girl has to say her piece. I buckle up and get to work.

 ‘I am back and better than ever’ I am thinking as I am writing something that although I do not want to set on fire, it is not good enough to upload. This piece of... work is in a desperate need of polishing.

 I read every sentence twice, I reconsider every word, I look for grammatical errors where there are none while I fail to notice those that actually exist. I edit, I polish, I refine so much that I end up with something that A) I kinda like, despite the fact that it is completely different from what it started out to be B) I can recite the whole damn thing by heart, and C) I have drained every word that demanded to be voiced.

 The third stage looks a little like OCD if hold it up to the light. I study my post obsessively, again and again like my life depends on it, I read even when I have memorized where every punctuation sign is. I bury myself in it. I dip into every phrase and every expression, wanting to make it perfect –like there is such a thing. Sometimes it will become better, but more often than not, it will stop making sense to me anymore.  And magically, somehow, comes the moment in which I transition from ‘it must blow everyone’s mind’ to ‘it is what it is’. I don’t care, my journey is complete –spoiler alert, it isn’t-.

 I open my page to upload the fruits of my labor. This action will trigger one of two reactions. I will either find the proceeding posts tedious in comparison to the new one or vice versa.

 In the first scenario, a battle within me will start to not hit the delete button. I will fight tooth and nail to not erase my previous work, I will reason that although it should be destroyed for being so sub-par, it also shows my progress and in return I will show mercy and save it from the online trash bin. For now… - insert evil laugh here-

 Sometimes, though, I will find that despite my best efforts, the current piece does not measure up to the previous ones. Again a struggle will begin – I mean WWIII is taking place inside my head-. Should I start from scratch, give up entirely the whole ‘blogging’ thing or post it and let the online community decide? As my perfectionism combats my laziness to go back to the drawing board, my hand will drop the nuclear bomb to stop it all and hit the ‘upload’ button.

 Once a post has been made public all my doubts about its quality will disappear, until the time comes for the next one, where the vicious circle, just described, will start all over again. And this is why I do not post often!

 To make a long story short, sometimes I keep my crazy to myself others I am here sharing it with you guys. Enjoy it!

KISSES.

E!

 What do you write on your blog after of months of absence and when you have poured your heart and soul in a letter? In a very personal and extremely private letter that you do not even know if you will find the courage to deliver it to its recipient?

 Answer: You struggle to find inspiration somewhere else. On someone or something that are not related to what you had in your mind so persistently that it demanded being put down on paper. But when you are almost convinced that -for, at least, the time being- all your words have been expressed, then inspiration seems almost unattainable.

 Naturally, it isn't. I am surrounded by 'material' that have roused others to create masterpieces. I could just reply to all the messages I have received, asking about the the whitewashed buildings, the blue domed churches, the red beach, and the most famous of all the astonishing pink sunset. I could write about the rainbow of colors that surround me and stretch wide beyond white. Actually I did scribble something about the sunset but found it too trite to upload.

 After thinking good and hard and letting the phrases flow freely through my pen, i started to understand what this post is about, because as sure as hell it isn't about the beauty or the life here. And I'll be damned if I even note that ''No matter how hard my day has been, seeing the sunset never failed to relax me''. Believe me, it is not true.

 Instead I want to write about the people i have met. Without much thinking they can be divided in three categories: The locals, the tourists, and the people who came for a job. Of course this is a gross generalization but for the purpose of this entry I hope that you will let me get away with it.

 In my five months living here, I got the chance to connect with all of the three aforementioned categories, but the tourists are those who sparked my interest the most. People from all around the world are actually dreaming of vacationing in Santorini their whole lifetime! The majority comes for their honeymoon. Wherever you glance you will see couples. Maybe it is their first trip together, maybe they are on their honeymoon or they are celebrating a major anniversary. For whichever reason they chose this place their looks are almost identical. They have those awe-filled eyes, they are walking hand in hand, they are sitting intertwined in a hug trying to take in all the beauty or they are sipping their drinks admiring the view from the Caldera. All the while filling the air with romance.

 Have you ever felt that? An emotion dominating a space so strongly that you cannot help but sense it encircling you with its power? With couples all around, even the most cynic person will feel the 'love is in the air' kinda vibe.

 As a romantic trying to play it off like a sensible pragmatist, I have no idea how I managed to land myself in one of the places that is dominated by eroticism. Surely life is trying to teach me a lesson I am not ready yet to understand. But I digress, this isn't about me. It is about the people, with their perfect vacation, their perfect love, their perfect place..

 And all this magnificence that needs to be captured in a photograph -several actually-. They will often stop a passerby -a role I am always happy to assume- in order to take a picture. How to immortalize, though, the sparks in their eyes? Can you fit in a picture an 'Instagram worthy' spot and the enchantment between those two people, which is what really lights up the scenery? Is this a too romantic though? Maybe I have been 'exposed' to this idyllic aura for too long.

 You may ask, what makes Santorini so special? Lovers all around the world are behaving the exact same way, especially while on vacation. What is the difference between this island and Venice with its bridge of sighs per se? I really do not know. I haven't been everywhere -although it is on my list- but from my experience thus far, this is the place I have seen the most couples, with a pair of eyes that spark full of love, with hands that cannot stay away from one another, with hearts brimming with adoration and with minds intend on eternal devotion..

 I do not doubt that I will visit even more romantic destinations, but until I do this will be the setting where I feel clashing with the environment when strolling around alone. Of course you do not always need to find your other half. You are complete on your own, but having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn't see them as disasters is a magnificent feeling.

 Still, what about the other tourists? Those who came with friends or family also intending to have the time of their lives? Well, to tell you the truth I was too distracted from all this love and passion to even notice them, I guess there is always the next time.. Till then..

KISSES.

E! 

      

    

 For the last month or so I have been MIA from all social media and you know how they say that it is something we all should? Well I disagree! Maybe it is good for a couple of days, like a mini detox, but a couple of weeks? Not so sure…

 I’ve missed you guys! Of course I am well aware that I don’t know all of you personally but your comments and messages and all that fun interaction was apparently something I was really looking forward to, throughout my day.

 First of all thank you for your concern but fortunately nothing bad happened. The Instagram stories and posts will start appearing again and from a whole new place. You see, my dear followers I decided it was time to go out of my comfort zone, so I packed my bags and moved almost as far as could but still be inside my country. I took on a very demanding but interesting and fulfilling job somewhere I’ve never been before, Santorini.

 For many travelers Santorini is a must-go destination or a lifelong dream trip. It wasn’t for me, I am what we call a ‘city girl’, so I hadn’t visited this island, nor did I ever had the wish for it. But when an opportunity for a really nice job appeared, I took it. And here is where you should pay attention to my choice of words. I didn’t ‘jump on it’ like any other person would, I just accepted it…

 I saw the faces of the people who asked me where I was heading to, light up with excitement, wishing me good luck and telling me how they’d like to come with me. All the while I remained impassive, too shocked by my own decision to leave everything I knew behind. And not without reason.

 I’ve heard somewhere ‘leap and a net shall appear’. Last year I saw a very near and dear person leap and a net stubbornly refused to appear. I saw this person fall and struggling not to crush. Now, that came my time to jump, I did it very reluctantly and with a dose of fear. But I did it. I leapt. It wasn’t easy but surrendering everything familiar to me was both terrifying and freeing.

 Maybe it is a little soon to tell but I think I can see the net. Maybe for me it appeared. Maybe it will vanish just when I’m about to touch it. Only time will tell. Now, I am just trying to enjoy the ‘fall’, like a first time bungee jumper, equally thrilled and scared.

 Will the net appear? Will the rope hung on? I know I am…

KISSES.

E!

 I will cut right to the chase. I don't believe in Valentine's day. Not in an angry feminist way, not even in a bitter single girl way, but in a very romantic i-want-to-express-my-love-every-day-of-the-year way. The notion that we have to have a specific day to remind ourselves to appreciate the love we have in our lives is confusing to me. I believe that when you are lucky enough to have someone who wants you in their lives in every way, from a simple like having you around to a cherished kind of love, should be enough motivation to appreciate them every day. I understand that being in a relationship is not always easy, it is not all love songs and kisses under  the stars. In fact being in a relationship is very hard. There are two people with different opinions, or ways to see the world that somehow found each other and now are together. And in order to stay together they have to have all kinds of compromises, they have to put their egos aside and work to make their  relationship good. And exactly in that point is where my dislike of Valentine's day appear.
 You show up, you find someone, you do all the necessary  stuff to stay together and then you actually need a specific day to remind you to show your love? In the midst of life, is it so difficult to take a moment and appreciate what you have? Every couple should have its own day -or better days- to celebrate their relationship. The day of your first kiss, your first date, even the date of your worst argument to remind you that you survived it and you will survive all the others who will inevitably come. Because to find someone, in this crazy world, who will make their hug feel like home, who will kiss away your tears, who will support you in every way they can, is nothing short of a blessing.  So say it every damn day "I love you". Even after a fight, even after a long day at work or after a night that couldn't be better.

 Say it.
 Show it.
 Feel it. 
"I love you". And trust your partner to do the same. 

 The magical thing about being in love is that it steals away the meaning of other words "be careful", "have a good day" are phrases that mean the exact same thing. 
 My personal favorite is right before I close my eyes in your hug, "sweet dreams". It's my last "I love you" for the day. "Have a nice day to work" is my first.
 But I should have told you from the start, I am a romantic that way.

KISSES.

E!

 Recently I stumbled upon a Pinterest picture, it wrote ‘as lost as Alice, as mad as the hatter’ . Having been previously to an adorable Alice-in-Wonderldand-themed coffee shop, I found it whimsical to go there again by myself and think these words, which they felt like they were stuck in my mind.

 As I drank my tea –the appropriate beverage given the place-, with my thoughts and my notebook as my only companion, I realized that, these particular words stayed with me because at times I’ve felt this way. Aren’t we all? Is there anyone who can boast that never felt lost or a bit mad? But why should that be a bad thing?

 We’ve all been lost at times, but when Alice found herself in this dire situation, she embraced it and actually had the time of her life. Though we cannot all be this lucky, if we really try we may find our way back, or wherever it is we want to be.

 Questions that leave us feeling astray will always be a part of life. Did I choose the right career path? Do I appreciate enough those who love me? Am I all that I can be? All these questions, left unanswered will bring chaos in the mind and the feeling of being lost will grow stronger.  These questions demand to be answered and we have been taught that the only acceptable answer is ‘yes’. Therein, I found, lies the problem. Because if the answer isn’t the ‘correct’ one, we will continue to feel lost. But what if the answer is ‘no’? If we summon the courage to answer honestly, ‘no’ is a perfectly acceptable response, seeing that it opens the way to change.

 If we can admit that the road we’re on, is the wrong one, we can always change paths. It will be an arduous effort –since we don’t possess the potions that help Alice through Wonderland- but I feel that everything else is better than feeling lost, and later trapped…

 The same goes for the hatter that was labeled mad. The question remains ‘why’? Because as Cheshire cat said his reality is different than ours? Personally if I could live a life with such constant joy, with loyal friends and with a job that satisfies me so much, you can call me mad any time of the day!

 As children we often heard that our dreams are unrealistic –mad- and sometimes they truly are. With great disappointment  I realized that I cannot become a fairy or a pirate. Despite though the odds I am working endlessly on becoming an actress –for the time being an amateur one-, which is needless to say another dream defined as mad…

 Lewis Carroll created a world full of possibilities, of dreams coming true. The bitter truth though is that ‘’the only way to achieve the impossible, is to believe that is possible’’ cannot always come true, but I think he attempted to teach us to try our damndest before we give up. Personally, when I find myself fed up with the real world, I try to seek comfort in his words:

‘’A dream is not reality, but who’s to say which is which?’’

KISSES.

E!

 The whole thing started when I purchased a black swimsuit. I uploaded the above photographs at my Instagram profile (@elliefilippidou) with said swimsuit and I was -actually, I still am- quite fond of them. I had no idea that this bathing suit is considered by many ''too sexy'' and ''provocative'' and that by uploading them I would unwittingly invite every overly confident man to message me, with at best, sleazy comments or worst requesting to send them more intimate pics.
 At first I was amused, I do not tend to dress too sexy and I'm quite shy about the way I look, was my choice so out of character? And if so was that a positive or a negative step?
 After discussing it with friends we all agreed that the bathing suit is indeed sexy but the photos weren't so provocative or sensual enough to reveal a woman willing to ''shake that thang'' -actual quote of one of my 'admirers'-.
 The truth is I knew from the start that my choice was revealing but after years of playing jump rope with my weight and feeling insecure, I relished at the thought of having enough confidence to buy it and wear it in public, for once to not be self-conscious about my looks.
 Don't get me wrong, despite the way it feels it's going, this post isn't a feministic attack on ''men who view women as objects'' or about fat-shaming or skinny-shaming or even society-shaming!
 This post is about how we view ourselves and how this view can quickly change due to some random comments from strangers on the internet.
 Of course there are women who wouldn't bat an eye at these comments, who would be able to ignore everyone completely, but I think the majority -myself included- yearn for approval no matter its source. I am not here to judge which attitude is right or wrong, in fact I find them both healthy and acceptable. But I am here in an effort to convince myself and all the others who may be reading this post to embrace Blake Lively's words: I never think about how other people will respond to the way I dress.
 And if this advice didn't inspire you maybe what I try to keep in mind will, don't take anything personally from anyone you aren't personal with.

KISSES.

E! 

 I was always fascinated by art, in whatever form it expresses itself. Naturally I show great favor to theater, so much so, that I forgot to notice of those others expressions of art that surround me, that surround all of us.

 From a lowly street artist to the grandest sculpture of a radiant city, art is everywhere, that is of course if we keep our eyes open.

 Scrolling through the photos of my latest trip to Turkey I noticed maybe for the first time, this particular picture. It is from Ciragan Palace, now 5 star hotel and one of the  finest examples of architectural art. Those neo-gothic windows which blend harmoniously with the baroque style of the palace made me realize how much I had underappreciated architecture and its beautiful craftsmanship.

 Since this photograph of Ciragan inspired me to explore the virtuosity of architecture, I did a little research about this palace, which housed several sultans but unfortunately only for a short period of time. It had to demonstrate walls built from the finest marble and traditional wooden roofs. But its charm doesn’t stop there. It either inspired a secret affair or aother piece of art, this of storytelling! According to the legend the palace rumored to house the secret love affair between the wife of Napoleon the 3^rd and the sultan Abdulaziz.

 So there I had it, from something that started as admiration for the art of architecture became a journey to the art of fiction –as my research firmly suggested- to a whole different kind of art, that of discovering the hidden craftsmanship everywhere. Because once you go inside Ciragan palace a whole new world awaits you, full of beauty. From the Japanese art of arranging flowers to the most exquisite gourmet cuisine the art of pleasuring even the most delicate palates.

 Then I really started thinking. If we assume that the world around us is like this palace that waits for its visitors to appreciate it, then we have to open our eyes to the things around us we find ordinary and value the artistry that is hidden inside them.

 Those thoughts open a new door! If I was in the mood to see and admire the beauty of art I didn’t necessarily had to go to a museum. I could very well open a book from my bookcase, watch a movie or the more difficult go for a walk at the nature and seek this special form of art that it is not man made, but nevertheless waits for us to go and admire it.      

 As some of you may have noticed, I kind of abandoned my blog but it was not without reason.

 I so wish I could tell you that my life was full with weeks of fabulous activities that didn't left me any time at all for writing. The bitter truth is -although I did have a nice time and occasionally a very entertaining and fun time- that the muse we call inspiration refused to pay me a visit. 

 So I went to search for her. I saw plays and movies, I read new books and reread old favorite ones, I went for drinks with friends and for walks alone -that's where I took the above picture- but it was all for naught. Did the world around me had stopped inspiring me? That was a depressing thought!

 It was on one of those ''missions'' for search of the unattainable inspiration that I stumbled upon something Picasso once said: 'Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.' That made me realize that I hadn't picked up my pen once. I was just in a staring match with my notebook and loosing! I could certainly not admit defeat from a blank piece of paper..

 So I lifted my pen, felt its weight, passed it through my fingers, I even started doodling on the page. I did everything I could thing of in order to jump start my creativity. All the while wondering what did all those authors, writers and bloggers do when they hit the wall? I assumed that everyone has at some point of their lives experienced the dreaded 'writer's block'. Since I had no one to turn for this kind of advice, I thought that I needed a new adventure, something to take my mind of this situation and hopefully give me material to write about.

 It took me more time than I am proud to admit to realize that I was thinking so inside of the box that I couldn't see the solution that was in front of me all along. I was thinking the lack of writing as a problem instead I could think of it as a new adventure. One I had never encountered before. And I did just that.

 I turned the page of my notebook and started chronicle this new predicament, and you know what? The words started flowing through my mind and into my pen. Even if someone sees this post as the dullest thing he/she ever read ( I mean I am writing about not being able to write) I really don't care. I just hope that with my work I might be able to ignite even the tiniest spark in the mind of someone who has found itself in the same position.

 We've all been there, some for days, some for weeks, some for years. But I refuse to believe it is because we have nothing left to say but because we are afraid to say what we want for fear of judgement or rejection. The truth is that, it could happen either way, even if we stay silent. So speak, write, express yourself, do whatever sets your soul on fire. The right people will be by your side ready to help you keep your fire alive. 

 Or so I desperately hope.

KISSES!

E.   

 It was one of the most intense experiences of my life.
 These are the only words that I can use to describe the magic that took place during the few days that I performed my monologue.
 This unexpected gift came when I was offered the chance to be a part of a play that consisted of three monologues, performed by three people.
 To be able to go on stage and and tell a story executed by only one person is one of the things I find the most challenging -and thus the most exciting- acts of theater.
 The monologue. It is stripping your soul bare and opening your heart for the audience to see. It is being completely exposed in front of strangers, willing to let them look inside your very being. It is death and birth, a curse and a blessing. It is real life magic.
 Apart from the selection of an interesting enough piece, to keep the audience engaged, everything else fall upon you. On your ability to take complete strangers on a journey with only the tools of your body. Your voice, your eyes, the way you move on the stage... Everything is being scrutinized and judged. You have no one else to rely on if you miss a line, no one to save you if you make a wrong move. Everything -and I mean everything- come down to one thing, how well did you prepare?
 The exact time the spotlight hits you and all eyes are upon you, you have to forget the lines so you can make them sound like you just thought of them. You have to keep every aspect of your personality backstage and become an entirely different being. Because the only way to convince anyone you are someone else is to become someone else. Otherwise it is not acting, it is just playing make-belief.
 When it comes to monologues all the intensity of acting is being multiplied by ten, because you may not be able to see your audience but you definitely can hear them. Sometimes the absence of any sound -the stunned silence, the complete concentration on your words- is the most rewarding experience. Others, a sigh of approval or a thrilled catched breath, is your wish come true. But there is and every actor's nightmare, the restless audience. That means only one thing, you have failed to catch their attention and they just concentrate on being comfortable on their seats.
 A director once told me that ''you don't want your audience comfortable, you want them on the edge of their seat. Eager to drink the words that will come out of your mouth''. His words stayed with me through the years, echoing through every performance and always on my mind, keeping me motivated and in the pursuit of achieving them.
 So this experience, like any other, is finished. Leaving me emotionally exhausted but simultaneously excited and wanting more. Because regardless of the countless hours of preparation, of the constantly doubting and improving, nothing beats the pleasure of a standing ovation.
 And for those who are still riddled why I do what I do, the only reply that comes to mind are the immortal words of Oscar Wilde, ''It was only in the theater that I lived''.

KISSES!

E.      

   

 I recently found out that due to a birth defect on my knees coupled with an injury I have to stop -hopefully temporarily- my favorite pastime, running. And as any runner can tell you this is a beyond major hit. Faced with this fact, I found myself facing two options, wallow in self-pity or try to find something to take my mind of this. Needless to say, I did both.

 After two days spent watching movies on my bed waiting for my MRI appointment, I got fed up with myself. So I picked myself up, got dressed and went to find my friends for drinks.

 We were sitting at the corner of our favorite bar when I looked beside me and saw the opportunity for a picture perfect Instagram photo and it was at that moment when I capture the above picture with my camera that I noticed, I was happy and relaxed! My every thought wasn’t consumed over my injury, the pain or the loss of my lifestyle. This minor epiphany put me in thoughts and I realized the abundance of things I wasn’t seeing because I was focused on this negative event.

 Even if I cannot run –again, hopefully not for long- there are so many other activities to shift my focus on, that could, very well, bring me joy. Besides the obvious, going out with friends my choices were countless. I always wanted to have a six pack but I always chose to spent my workout time running, instead. I have yet to perfect my Italian, I have so many books to read, so many movies to watch…

 And if running was my lifestyle, I can always spend more time with my passion, theater. I will try to find my “running high” at good plays, at seminars or even together with Stanislavski or Stella Adler studying their books, analyzing their techniques.

 So this picture is dedicated to this, to all the simple things that bring us joy when we feel down, to the ordinary moments of pure happiness that we forget to appreciate because we are focused on all the wrong things.

 Because that is the extraordinary thing about photographs, they are evidence that once –even if not for long- everything were perfect and they will be perfect again.

When I took this photo, a thought sprang to my mind
that the tower emerged as from a fairytale with its glowing, bright, pink light.
So then and there I asked myself what kind of tale that could be?
And a smile flourished when decided to write a fairytale dark and mysterious... like me
There is no 'once upon a time'
No princess who needs saving
There is a pink light that continuously shine
to hide the monster, who through the years has been raving.
The rumor started quietly, no one knew how it was spread
that the duke and duchess had an heir, an extraordinarily beautiful baby girl.
Through the years nobody saw the famous daughter
not a shining knight nor a lowly pauper,
and as the rumor of her extreme beauty remained
none had ever seen it, even when her parents passed away.
They all thought that she was trapped, somehow locked away
and a brave man decided to go and free her one awful, fateful day.
He found no locks, he saw no traps,
he just followed a dim light
and filled with wonderment the master door he taps
to open and reveal a girl with a smile sinister and bright.
No news where ever heard again of him
and through the years enough men followed, to form a rightful team.
Man by man they all vanished, they all just disappeared
and they stopped trying to find the girl, they were filled with fear.
So now there was a strong belief
that the girl was kept by a monster under lock and key.
but no one dared to go back there again
after the disappearance of so many brave men.
And so the years passed, then decades flew away
and through the generations, the mystery still remained
what was hiding behind the tower's closed door?
A little girl went there to see, she couldn't wait no more.
She followed the footsteps the others had previously take
but as luck would have it, not their awful fate.
Because she found only an old woman with fire in her eyes
who told her the real story, not the town's lies.
There never were a monster, there was only her
a beautiful, smart and disturbed girl.
She wanted no intruders, not to be married
and when they came uninvited, the price they would paid.
She killed them all without thinking it twice!
But now she was old she wanted to give to someone else her price.
She told the girl the tower she could had
seeing they were alike, they were both of them mad.
The little girl never returned back
and after agreeing not to search for her, the life went back on track.
So this is the story's end,
the monster is never who we think it is, it may even be a friend.
In this tale, the monster was someone looking innocent
no one could ever thought
that the cause of this whole incident
was just a girl who wanted to be forgot.      

 I recently went for a shopping spree with a couple of my girlfriends. Some were running low on make-up, others were in desperate need of a good blusher and all of us are always looking for that perfect shade of lipstick that can make our lips irresistible to a kiss.
 It was when we were on the line to pay for our newfound treasures - that promised to hide our flaws and make us more beautiful than ever- that I remembered something Yves Saint Laurent said. This talented man once made the astounding observation that '' the most beautiful make up for a woman is passion. But cosmetics are easier to buy.'' How right can a man be? In this case the more I was thinking about it, the more convinced I was that he is pretty close to absolutely right.
 No amount of mascara or eyeliner can replace the fire in a woman's eyes. A fire that may burn for a growing and satisfying career.
 Regardless the shade of the lipstick we use to apply, the most beautiful lips are those which are stained from a passionate kiss.
 And I have personally see the perfect tone of blush rushing at my cheeks when I have completed an intense and satisfying run by the sea.
 Yes, passion, passion can do magic at a woman's appearance. We all look for that passion constantly. We can find it at the job we've always dreamt of having, at the love we hope will last forever, at a hobby that can transform an ordinary day to a beautiful and memorable one.
 The lucky few that have it all, may not have the need to use cosmetics, but as a woman - and an overachieving one at that- I can tell you that they will always put some make-up on, hoping to turn beauty to excellence.
 For the rest of us, who don't have every aspect of our life in order, make up is even more necessary. Besides passion can only go so far. As much as I love my job there are days that I will need to hide the occasional bags under my eyes caused by a little more stress. For someone else a compact powder will be required in order to hide the tears caused by a fight with a loved one.
 Make-up will always be an absolute necessity for a woman, but passion? Passion goes far beyond that.
 Because even if we hire the most talented make-up artist to use the finest cosmetics without passion we are just like Barbie dolls. Excellently made up but emotionless.
 Apart from that, dolls are made to be played with but women, especially passionate women are not to be played under no circumstances. Because not only they can play better but some of them are making the whole damn set of rules for the game.

KISSES!

E.        

  

 Winston Churchill once said that, tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that the look forward to the trip.
 As a graduate of Diplomacy, a traveler and a fan of that quick-witted man, I got fascinated with this phrase in more ways than one. So I started dissecting it and really thinking about it. The way I saw it, it consisted of three concepts, the tact, the hell and the trip.
 I consider myself a very tactful person but I doubt I could pull something like this off, even with all my textbooks about diplomacy at my disposal. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't going to make a habit out of telling people were to go, but it should be handy to know the way if the rare occasion arises.
 Then I started thinking about the ''going to hell'' part, or as we often say the destination of the ''road paved with good intentions''. Of course if we believe the song of AC DC is more of a ''Highway'' than a road.
 I was scribbling all that down exactly on the spot where I took the above picture when the thought occurred to me, why on earth am I troubling myself about hell instead of enjoying the view of my favorite place in Greece? And then everything became obvious. I was -even temporarily- at my heaven, at my happy place, spending some quiet time with my thoughts.
 I couldn't help but wonder, if we eliminate the spiritual side of the matter, what exactly are heaven and hell? I decided that it is a state of being, instead of an actual place.
 I had the example right before my eyes. For me Thessaloniki -the town in which the picture is taken- is my heaven. The place where I went to the university, the place where I got my first glimpse of independence, the place where I explored more about theater, and which holds countless other memories. For someone else though? It could be the town where they got their heart broken, they lost a job or failed to realize a lifelong dream. My own heaven is someone else's personal hell.
 So the trip there can be often short and it can be unexpectedly pleasurable as well. Because if you really think about it the person willing to send you to such a trip will have a vast difference with you about how the destination will turn out. Bottom line, his version of hell can be your paradise.
 In conclusion, making an attempt to reprogram my mind to have only positive thoughts I can tell you this, if someone wish me such a trip -tactfully or not- I will take and I will also have some fun doing it!

KISSES!

E.