Song of Myself

So tired of looking for acceptance
So exhausted of searching for approval
So sick of explaining and arguing and pretending
I am almost over.
I contain too many contradictions!
I love and hate and use the same old heart all the time…
No wonder it’s so tired…and old…and useless.
Inside every dream, there’s a promise
If I take away all hope
There will be happiness.
Right now I am just embracing reality,
Its cruelty, its absurdity, its unfairness
Without any remorse...
I probably don’t deserve my life; anyway.
Where are the miracles when you need them?


December 1

There are so many things which can be said about this country! And even more things to say about its people...those who have turned this place into what it is now.The thing is...I don't feel like saying or doing anything anymore.I am living in a circus and I don't care.I only wish I had been lucky enough to have been born somewhere else.It's not about the country.It's about its people.I've learned they don't deserve people like me.


Recycled Clichés

Life as a landscape puzzle
altering itself continuously
each arbitrary jigsaw…wrenched from its roots
needs to adapt immediately
to fit the next view, the next season, the next look.
When we choose
we lose more than we gain
we give up more than we get.
Choices are bitter - sweet sacrifices
if you contemplate regrets,
obey artificial standards or pay too much attention
to details.
Who needs a Pandora’s box???
with our own jars of unconfessed, unrepented sins lying in the closet
between old pairs of shoes we never wear
and unforgotten letters we never read…
I seem to have more and more answers
than questions,
than midlife crises
than uncertainties these days.
We should live our lives backwards
this way
we’ll never have to say : “The best is yet to come.”
There’s nothing worth dying for
loneliness is just a passive illusion - the priviledge
of a newly dug grave…
At least when my life started I was there.


A Miracle Witness...

Ivory Wings
(inspired by and dedicated to D.)

…away from accepted borders,
riskfree itineraries and safe dreams
tormented by the toughness of your oldest tears…
I hereby cherish your fragility:
the abrupt suspense of divine trials,
imprisoned in these ancient labyrinths -
unlike Icarus …you will not be falling
as long as you are growing
your own wings.
so much at home with repression
and self-exiled from fears
there will be no more hiding
and no more seeking.
Alternatives will one day live together…
inseparable, unimposed, untouched
by insecurities.
Out of this million window ivory-tower
You can either embrace the horizon
or ignore its line in the twilight…
and when the newest dawn breaks
and you are through with denials
ready for the ultimate truth - soaring so high
just like the sentinel of all tomorrows
You will still be you(th)…



Orchard leaves, forest leaves,
Autumn’s abandoned slogans!
Who witnesses
This dress rehearsal of rebelling winds?

Of the restlessness
Of pharaoh’s secret chambers.

Pursuing nothing but your fears
-coherent levitation-
Devoting all your liberties
Protecting the young horses.

Of the merry-go-rounds in town.

Gaping religious distance
Between the voodoo rituals.



To face the persistent paths,
The route echoes,
Reclaiming your steps, the confidence,
In the mist of a myriad fallings
Is to regain. Then seek. Then fortify.
The angership
Of the vowelless pages
Ignoring gold-rushes and rush-hours
above the same old deserts
Nonnegotiable demarcations
Of feeling…

Just picture:
My own quarantine isle!
Wrapped in night sounds
And promise lists
Expecting isolation
To lock the unlockable keys.

If I was this hideous instant of loss
I’d wear a necessary mask
Of Paris-made gloss………..


The Settler

You are.

Into the long longing corner of our sameness
A season in disguise at noon
The grapes of never planted harvests,
The sleep of foster seeds and cherry trees in bloom.

A self-reflecting sunbeam in a guilty spring.

You were mine.
Before the two World Wars illiterate dead
became wheat
then white bread;
before their sharp, prayless bones
became coat of arms;
before their thirsty, all bleeding kisses
became history textbooks;

Like the untouched weeds of a parental grave
The entrance to a candleless cathedral
The stone transition
From a future bride’s to the other woman’s finger
The unfound wounded wing.

You are to be.
The unborn yet of all the hunted species
The trophy for a buried sunset…
For all my days after tomorrow
My magic carpet.


Lover of Solitude

Nothing wakes me up. No more.
There is no ear left
either to hear or to listen
During my voluntary sleep
my lips have no mutual memories.
Only in my dreams
can my fingers still
cover your hair, surrender your tears,
deserve your forgiveness.
Since I was born I have been
only begging and praying
begging and praying
firstly to man
and then, and finally,
to God.
You are the lover of silence,
I am but a mere statue of sound.
No scream will ever come between us.


13 years of missing...


I knew to be safe inside you only.
My omniscient past with
Your formal wings, protective, never – flown like
A greedy kernel of complexity.
Caressing the appearance of a rainbow.

Never has death acknowledged any ages
Under the long-witnessing pale-looking moon
You are as young as the abandoned infants.
The whitest of the whitest.
The soonest and my soon.

Inscrutable morality-
A shelter and a coffin of my dreams!
So still and still so worthy of your dormant layers
I HAVE fearED.
The absence of our home is homesick
You’re missing and I’m missing you.
My native fever
My flawless platitude
My sail ...my settle down...my volunteering sunset.


"Hush, hush, I will NOT give you youth without age…"

It hasn’t been too long since I had an authentic exchange of sense and sensibility… but I certainly don’t cope with these breaks very well…Nevertheless, I always seem to find a spare smile, a positive thought and an encouraging memory to brighten my end of the day…

Someone asked me a while ago if I would like to be younger. The answer is so obvious. Of course NOT. When I think about my youth, I often associate it with Camus’s Sisyphus and his futile search for meaning in an unintelligible universe devoid of experience, landmarks, principles and values. Being young makes one think about life as an absurdity. But the good news is that, unlike Sisyphus, we are not condemned to repeat the same meaningless task of pushing a rock up a mountain, only to see it roll down again…for a life time. Our search for answers, for identity , for meaning comes to an end and, as adults, we become reconciled with ourselves, strong, confident, ready to make choices and face life’s challenges with optimism and dignity… Well, I am not saying that the ordeal of youth is unnecessary. Because it is precisely this (painful) experience, this constant fighting with ourselves and the external world which leads to adulthood and all its benefits. Adolescence is not a stage that can or should be skipped. It is a compulsory transition, a supreme test to maturity.

Apart from all this inner ripening process, my philosophy is that each significant person I interact with changes/alters me in a permanent way. I just picture this continuous becoming like a cocktail whose colour and taste are being changed by those people and experiences I allow to re-define myself. I can also tell that, without some ingredients, my life cocktail would have no colour & no taste…

As a result, I have become pretty selective when it comes to those who are permitted to make a difference, leave a mark, bring their contribution to my development... Because I don’t like changes which may destroy, damage or spoil my growth, the achievements of so much effort and I would hate to think that all that pain and griefs of youth were in vain. I thank God for my age since my experience makes me responsible, my knowledge makes me patient and calm, my self-confidence guides my way, my energy is enough to perform my daily tasks and still be able to smile whether looking forward or backwards at the end of the day.


Open Letter to a Virtual Best Friend

Some people need to reach the Everest. Others’ dreams involve the bottom of the ocean. I need your words to feel alive. I can’t explain this addiction nor the appearance of these tears today…You should know that I am not always happy. I seem to be like that because the only me you know is when I am with you. I can’t explain why but, few or many, unpredictable or not, your words always touch my very soul, make my heart beat faster and my “tomorrows” worth waiting for.

Even if the content of our messages somehow makes me experience a myriad ‘ups’ and ‘downs’...and at certain points I try to run away from the you as fast as possible, all of a sudden, I find myself even closer to you and deeper into the thoughts you are trying to hide and reveal at the same time...

You make me have a different view from your window. You lend me your eyes for a couple of minutes or even hours in order to give me your understanding of the world. From what I have learned, your sadness shouldn’t sound so real! Because you are wrong. You are too close to see the truth!!!

There is this really wonderful you, sharing his time, changing my life for the better, allowing his own to be changed, making dreams come true and miracles happen. You should be grateful to yourself at least, for being WHO you are. You are so gentle, so wise, so deep, so noble, so protective…

Of course you will have to make choices, sacrifice some of your dreams but I know that when at a crossroads you can only choose the best option...So, forget about ‘what ifs’ and ‘could haves’...BE HAPPY,’ CAUSE NOONE ELSE DESERVES IT MORE!!!


I Know You Can’t Feel the Same

When I was young…I used to be everybody’s friend and loved it… I used to believe the world was a wonderful place and only good people inhabited it. Believe it or not, when I was young I used to have this stereotype that everybody was able to feel, IF they wanted to, IF they found the right person...Then, one day, something happened and changed my entire perspective, shook all my beliefs and offered me a completely new attitude to life.

A single piece of information did all that. What was it all about? It seemed that each person had an individual emotional potential (just like in the case of the IQ) and, consequently, people don’t love the same way and definitely cannot possibly develop the same (amount of) affection.That was a real shock for me, an epiphany...

As a result, I stopped having expectations. I still don’t have any. I don’t think I ‘deserve’ things and I don’t take anything for granted. That’s why I say ‘thank you’ so often and mean it all the time. I feel lucky enough I am able to love. I have been blessed with a functional heart. A heart which does not “think” about people in terms of “qualities and flaws”, “advantages or disadvantages” but cares about their needs, their feelings, their hopes and dreams.

I am no longer young. I am not everybody’s friend anymore. I know this world is far from being the best possible one and I now know what bad people are like. I know it’s not easy to have a functional heart…but, without feelings…it would be like …being gone.


Why do I like romances?

My favourite pastime is definitely watching romances…abandoning my own existence for a couple of hours and be a part of these idealized love stories, these absolutely amazing experiences… that enrich my soul and give my heart another good reason to feel…

I have a number of movies which had a big influence on me… let’s take The Notebook…for instance, which is exactly the kind of (love) story I would have liked to live…and Dear John…whose main male character gave me an idea of how my ideal man would be like…

So…why do I love romances?
I love them…
…because they strengthen my faith in true love…conquering all…
…because they make me identify with people or situations I have met or I will never meet…
…because they are inspired by real people and inspire real people…
…because even if they have a happy or an unhappy ending…the message they send is that love…in all its forms…is the purest kind of human expression…and that it’s worth living it no matter how painful it gets sometimes…
…because in romances…just like in real life…everybody – old or young, rich or poor, ugly or beautiful- gets a chance to love and be loved…
…because there are scenes which would make me cry tears of happiness or sadness…right or wrong words shared at right or wrong times which would make everything stop around me…
…because I learn about people and relationships and I can use this knowledge to improve my life and my relationships…
…because they make me think that, as long as people make these kind of movies and enjoy them…this world is still a safe, good place to be in.


The Best Lessons in Life Are Free

Each day we are the beneficiaries of the simplest - but greatest – miracles that life makes for us… Each day we receive life’s wisdom…and we should be celebrating and enjoying ourselves and everything we get by loving life back and showing gratitude for all its wonders.

One of the reasons why we may seem unthankful is that we keep comparing ourselves to those who are “more fortunate” than us…this makes us feel dissatisfied with ourselves and our lives…I don’t think we should do that. Because, let’s face it, everything in life is a choice. Our attitude towards life is also a matter of personal perception and individual will.

(Un)fortunately we are not born wise. We are certainly not programmed to live a robot life. Each of us becomes a genuine human being as long as we keep our hearts and minds open to what the world is trying to teach us…The best advantages about life’s lessons are that they are free and they make everything easier...

A few years ago I was chosen to spend an entire month in a wonderful country…It was the greatest experience of my life. But, apart from all the other memories, there are two lessons that I received right then and there:

1. ”Don’t be judgemental!”

2. “Don’t complain!”

Ever since I have been trying to live according to these rules which, though stated in a negative form, are the foundation of all positive thinking! You cannot stay optimistic if you use your time and energy to criticize other people and you cannot grow into a better person or see the happy side of your own existence if you keep staring at its irrelevant imperfections!!!


What are “friends”?

I love the idea of “chosen” relationships. This is where friends belong. Unlike family…which are “given” relationships.

I have made some pretty good choices in my life. I’ve been lucky enough to meet some natural born friends. And, when it comes to these human miracles, I really wanna be a keeper. Who are my friends? Well, first of all… They are people who take me as I am. Because that’s the best thing about friends : you get the chance to be yourself around them & feel good about that. Friends are those who never forget your birthday. Those who call you when they go on holiday. Those who visit you in hospital or notice when you miss a day at school/work. Those who would lie for you but not to you…except for those cases when you desperately need a compliment…Friends will always dislike the people who don’t like you. They will never forgive those who have treated you badly. A friend is someone who wants you to be happy even when they are not.

I am so grateful I have friends.


Muscle or Exotic Cars?

Thank God for the Internet! Up until 5 minutes ago I had no idea that there are “muscle” cars on this planet and I only assumed you could use the adjective “exotic” in front of one…The bad news is I have been asked to write about two types of cars – muscle vs. exotic – but the good news is from now on our life will be so much easier as I will pick all my topics myself.

In order to understand how difficult it is for me to write about cars…let’s just say that… to my mind…a car is nothing more than a car…a vehicle…a means of transportation… something you use to move between two places A and B… What is more, colour is the only difference I truly get between cars…so, if you ask me…I would say I like the black ones better…

Now…if you give me two brands …such as Mustang Shelby GT 500 1969 and Lamborghini Gallardo and ask me to write about them…well…that’s it… I will put on the “you got me” face... But if you are my friend…I will also display a polite and curious smile…and proceed my researchpedia. According to this wise and generous resource…there are some differences between muscle and exotic cars.

Muscle cars are high performance automobiles usually of American origin and generally known as 2-door mid-size cars equipped with large, powerful engines and sold at an affordable price for street use. According to the June 1967 issue of Road Test magazine, a "muscle car" is "exactly what the name implies. It is a product of the American car industry adhering to the hot rodder's philosophy of taking a small car and putting a BIG engine in it”. Mustang Shelby GT 500 1969 was produced by Carroll Shelby, a former racing driver.

Exotic cars are ultra-high-end automobiles whose performance is superior to that of its contemporaries. It has been defined specifically as "a very expensive, fast or powerful car", "with sporting handling to match" also "it should be sleek and eye-catching" and its price should be "one in a rarefied atmosphere of its own"… The Gallardo is Lamborghini's most-produced model to date, with over 10000 built in its first seven years of production and each car costs about $180,000 to $210,000.

So, having read so many pages and understood only a little about these two car types, what answer should I give to the title-question? If an opinion is compulsory, I would say that muscle cars are for men who dreamed about becoming race drivers in their childhood and now want to exceed both strength & speed limits and express their masculinity while taking a ride whereas exotic cars are more about social and financial status on street display and speed potential which will make sure you break the traffic regulations…since their childhood heroes used to do that so often in SF movies…

Old Ways, New Ways...the Same People

Some say that young people do not read and write as much as they used to. I would say that they don’t read and write the same way any more…Young generations are actually very good at expressing themselves but, instead of communicating with people in their neighbourhood, they prefer to explore larger contexts with the help of modern technology…And since time is running so fast…more and more people avoid reading books and wait for the movies…

Some say that virtual communication is not real communication. I would say that there are different types of communication. That, regardless of “how” the message reaches its receiver, those “who” are involved in an on-line process of sharing information get the same results as in a face-to-face conversation. Even the non-verbal and body language can be replaced with emoticons each time you feel like using facial expressions and suggestive gestures…

Some say that the computer and the Internet have a devastating effect on social skills. I would say that, if they are not helpers, they are amazing alternatives or substitutes.They can provide advice when our parents are too busy or too tired, useful knowledge which our teachers don’t include in their lessons, entertainment when the real-life offers are not so appealing and/or affordable and a social life…because it’s only the “who” that matters not the “how”…


Lipton or Nestea?

This article is neither about promoting a certain cold tea preference nor about how healthy or unhealthy these two beverages are in reality…The truth is I needed a topic and an inspired friend suggested this title. Therefore, I am going to write an article about Lipton and Nestea.

The real challenge of this task is to manage to write about two subject matters I hardly know anything about without making you readers fall asleep. I never drink cold tea. I sometimes drink hot tea when I have a cold…that’s why…in the spirit of Pavlov’s dog…I think I will always associate tea with some sort of illnesses.

Of course, if I were a professional journalist I would have to do theoretical and practical research and by the end of this virtual page the readers of this post would have been provided with the most accurate information about its topic. Not to mention the fact that I would have probably given a personal opinion about the taste of these products. In this case, I would have to thank my friend for not having suggested “Scandic” or “Teacher’s” … otherwise my research would have affected not only my budget and physical balance…but also my reputation.

Some pseudo-conclusions at the end of the three paragraphs above would be that we can speak/write about anything even if we don’t have a clue…that the less informed we are about something…the more objective we can be about that subject…and also…there will also be enough stereotypes to help us out…such as the connection I make between tea and not feeling well…

However, while some people picture tea next to a handful of pills, a thermometer and a packet of paper napkins, other people will think about tea in terms of almost-natural refreshments and quenching your thirst at the end of an exhausting series of push-ups or abs…like my dear friend… Let’s not forget those who use these brands in social contexts which have much more to do with chatting with their friends than hydrating their bodies. Well, I guess I am among the most original ones…since I am just using both Lipton and Nestea to fill my (free) time instead of my (favourite) cup.

To cut short a long (tea)story, if Lipton can do that, so can Nestea and me. I don’t have to drink something in order to speak (about that)…and you don’t have to feel bad about reading an article whose title involved a possible marketing campaign of tea brand rivalry. We are living in a blood-thirsty society which encourages brand com-pe-tea-tea-on…;))

Virtual Identity

When we are born, we have no idea who we are or how to live our lives. We learn everything, sound by sound, step by step, role by role, mistake by mistake, tear by tear…and it takes years and years until we can cancel our identity search after suddenly looking into a mirror and finally recognizing ourselves: ”This is me.” …

Actually, we don’t see ourselves into ordinary mirrors or other people’s eyes: we can see ourselves only when we look into our own eyes. ’Cause those eyes have witnessed all the circumstances and they know all the facts. They have the whole picture, with every little detail that makes the difference between the real and the unreal.

Throughout our lives we are guided, inspired, motivated or discouraged by other people and/or other people’s lives. We make choices we are not always proud of and blame it on our lack of experience or the bad influence we get from our peers, the media, the stars etc. The truth is that, even if the process of becoming ourselves has both objective and subjective causes, the final decisions are ours, nobody “signs” the “contract” on our behalf so, the best we can do, in order to have a past without regrets and a future without hopelessness is to take responsibility for our own actions. As far as I am concerned, I can tell that many times failures can teach us much more than success. Even if you don’t get that prize, at the end of a race you can still be a winner…against your weaker self…because each day we compete against ourselves and this is one of the best opportunities of growth.

Also, when we are young (and stupid), we learn that there are no guarantees in life. No insurance policies against more or less natural disasters.We can play by the book and lose. Some people would say that being “fair play” is the cause of our failures…that sometimes it is better to cheat…in order to get what you deserve. But I believe that being honest to ourselves and others is a sign of maturity and responsibility. And a matter of personal choice.

These last words make me think about my presence here in this virtual reality. They make me acknowledge the fact that, even if I can use my mask when I get here, I am already protected against potential virtual dangers by the fact that there is no conflict between my real identity and the role I am playing on this virtual stage.