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!