On deadlines

Rants

Day by day, I become more convinced that I am one of the few remaining people who respect deadlines. Cypriots everywhere: a deadline is a deadline is a deadline. SHAPE UP!

Hello deadline, nice to meet you! I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Mega Procrastinator and I’m very happy to finally get to talk to you. I know, I know, I hate blind dates too, but hey we’re here but let’s make the most of it, despite the awkwardness. So, my friend Lazy Ass mentioned that you’re really into punctuality. Can I ask you something? Why? I mean, isn’t punctuality an internal thing? If you’re OK with the timing, isn’t that punctuality that’s true to yourself? Why are you shaking your head so vehemently, relax. All I’m saying is, that it’s good to let go. I don’t ever wear a watch even — I’m not a slave to time.  Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize that you’d be so offended with my lateness. I was pretty proud of myself for remembering that today is Friday; after all, I hardly keep track of days. What’s the point? They’re all the same anyway right? OK, OK, I’ll change the topic.

So where do you hang out? Oh at Post-It! I kinda hate that place — it’s full of people worrying about insignificant things. Oh, yes, I see. So are you turned on by people enumerating things to do? Really?! I’d rather watch 3 non-stop hours of YouTube videos than go to that bar. Sure, it’s fun. I do it with Lazy Ass all the fucking time. It’s a riot. Don’t even get me started on the fun we have commenting on them on Facebook! You use the events function only on Facebook? Nah, I never reply. I show up if I feel like it, whatever time. It still works all the same. What’s that? An urgent call you need to take? Sure, go ahead.

(Pause)

What do you mean you need to go, we’re hanging out here, chillaxin’… Oh I’m sorry to hear that. No I don’t know any Dignity or Responsibility, they’re not in my circle. Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Are you sure? It’s no problem, I’ll take right after this song finishes. I fucking love Kings of Convenience.

On a lighter, less cynical note, enjoy this video:

Random Tuesday: Is there a Selleck in your sandwich?

Random Tuesdays

I live for randomness: it keeps me sane in a pretty nonsensical world. I have therefore decided to dedicate Tuesdays to randomness, with the hope that I can either:

a) bring out the ridiculous in you

b) at least to get you to laugh at the abounding internet (or real life) silliness

I have a very special someone to head start this column. Remember Richard from friends? That awkwardly mature doctor that Monica was dating? Well you wouldn’t think it but he actually goes quite well with sandwiches — and burgers, if need be! Set him up next to a waterfall and BAM! it’s a classic. This tumblr blog is onto something huge.

Just when you think you it can’t get any funnier, you scroll down only to find another hilarious snapshot! This blog is a must-add on your reader / blogroll if you’re looking for some randomness to spice up your subscriptions.

Which Selleck/waterfall/sandwich picture tops your list?

Also: Name a random object / person and watch for the uploaded collage of your suggestions on your RSS feed.

Have a random day!

Random Tuesday: Frowning Flower Girl FTW

Random Tuesdays

I’m sure you’ve also seen the most epic photograph to come out of the Royal Wedding. It’s the only dose I got from the ceremony, and it more than encapsulates how I, and I’m sure countless others, felt about the big fuss.

Move over Kate, here is the girl everyone’s cheering at the moment:

The face is just so priceless it’s sparked a series of edits, some seriously hilarious! Enjoy!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

via mashable

Ode to muscles

Odes

I am asking for definition,

Let my body hate me

with every bounce, even more.

On the tips of my toes

— on the verge of collapse —

I breathe out CO2,

bend my body to an illegible question mark,

stretch my back like a paralyzed cat.

My belly dances, the music beats

like a hammer on my muscles.

Contracting, detracting, contracting,

retracting. The image of my body

glares from the mirror.

The aching begins,

a better version of me,

sooner than requested,

should be with you shortly.

The unsuspecting vegetarian

Rants

Courtesy: Jorge-11

Easter: a time of vegetarian solidarity. The much dreaded religious holiday is already well underway and to top it off this year, I have my birthday to crown the greatest of all feasts on Easter Sunday. Oh dear.

I have never been one to hang around the lamb on the spit, gradually roasting its way into mouth-watering decadence (for some). As for the liver wrapped in intestine, I unsuspectingly declined plates of this delicacy falsely believing it was rooster, which was offensive enough to my innocent spirit, let alone the vulgar reality of the aforementioned specific body parts. Indeed, Easter has always been out to get me when I least suspected it.

As a kid, I have fond memories of lighting firesparkles, a ritual that required speed and enthusiasm. The end goal was lighting all the firesparkles in the garden. The reward? A soup of intestines, liver and stomach. I slurped unsuspectingly without really understanding what it was I was forcing myself to digest.

Years later, no longer the soup sucker that I was as a kid, I was pretty much against most food on the table, simply because it didn’t agree with my palate. On Saturday night after church, after gathering at an aunt’s house for the traditional soup (thanks, I’ll pass), meat (no, I’m fine thanks) and potatoes (do I have to eat this at 12:30 a..m? Really?) I scanned the dining table for a sign of something barely edible so late in the night. There was hardly anything worth noting: the usual suspects were there, as was the gelatin with private body parts, ears and whatnot floating in a see-through volume of a globe. Then I noticed a plate of spaghetti and eggs, a newcomer and a rather unusual recipe altogether. I hurried to add a serving; given that I was always criticized for the lack of food in my plate, I was more than elated that the spaghetti took up a considerable portion. But of course, there was a catch. As I forked a bunch of spaghetti and egg and raised it to mouth, my uncle across me asked calmly: Since when do you eat intestines? Since, omg I’m going to faint. I barely smiled politely.

That was a close one.

And then here we are now, not so many years later. Am I traumatized? Hell yeah! Every Easter I dread all the food on the table, all the jokes on my eating habits and all that meat that’s trying to make its way into my mouth, one way or another. But this year, , let the whole world rejoice with souvla on my birthday. I will feel happy to mouth a bit of green and a slice of cake — I’ve got my 29th to chew on.

Note: soon something you can chew on. More in coming entries.

Ode to circuses

Odes

The savagery of fear

caged behind bars for exhibition,

laughing men cry out in cheers

for a round of applause, they pray

for a snicker or two-cent appreciation.

Vast canopies of entertainment of days begone

randomly make appearances in the mundane.

It’s a circus, we say

a play of the absurd,

an ode to all things stupid,

a staged production of no essence.

It’s entertainment these days:

slapstick on your plate,

served cold and rotten.

A meal we digest well, it seems.

Tying the knot

Commentary

Everyone assures you that there’s no pressure. As a matter of fact, this very statement makes my heart stop for a few seconds. Why the reassurance for something that isn’t an issue to begin with? This catch-22 forms the very core of Cypriot culture: don’t worry too much, but we’re watching you; don’t stress yourself about it, we’re already stressed out for you; no need to push yourself, we’ll push you. At times it feels as if living my life is a vicariously shared experience with half the people in this town. Oh wait, facebook granted me that.

But let me give facebook some credit. If anything, facebook redefined relationships: single and looking, it’s complicated because I’m that cool or in a relationship and it’s serious. Recently, on my newsfeed more and more relationship status changes are creeping up: from relationship to engaged and, lo and behold, from engaged to married! Don’t get me wrong — there’s nothing better than seeing friends living their version of happily ever after but does this happy ending have to happen to everyone at the same time? My savings account pleads otherwise.

Add all of this in the real dimension and you’ve got yourself set up for moments of awkwardness. Last week we were in a bit of a pickle, my boyfriend and I. Seated at a local alternative hotspot with a couple of friends, drinking our wine and fooling around, we thought the alcohol had gone to our head when we saw a ring on our friend’s finger. We were flabbergasted but elated, we were delirious and exploded in riotous laughter: it was a moment of utter and complete joy.

But then.

Yes, then as we were about to toast to new beginnings, my significant other and I were the odd ones out. It didn’t matter, really, but it was an “all-eyes-are-on-you” kind of moment, and my boyfriend, not one to disappoint, was tactfully trying to remove the perrier bottle cap ring in mock-engagement to a life of gas and bottled liquified happiness. Sure, no pressure.

So here I am, hanging out here at the bottom of the barrel and I am simply echoing we are still young. Can we move to a new dimension, where I am still armed with the element of surprise and I can actually move beyond the tight little squares under my feet that dictate my directionless movement? When I get there, I’ll update my facebook status. Watch for it in your newsfeed.

Do you speak djeaksli?

Commentary


Hwia j jekhuiosdk H skunm, eippaem oi husyehj hjs. Apwoke nmxh hs kuawer sk? Rjia ojk pwopen ase.

In my head, all of the above makes sense. I have the uncanny ability to take words and mix them up, re-invent them if you like. I make nonsense out of sense, because that’s simply more fun than logical. I often don’t know what I’m talking about and I most certainly can’t understand my thoughts, but at least I know that I created the confusion in the first place.

It works wonders for my sanity.  Others may be intimidated by life and other such existential questions, but no, I am anything but deterred when it comes to lifting my little finger and dusting off the “where am I going” chapter of yours truly. That’s a big question; I hardly ever know where I’m going literally, let alone figuratively or worse yet, in ten years’ time! To avoid from going insane, I start to think / speak nonsense, because I understand it better than I  understand the big questions of life. All I’ve realized is that there are no answers. And the questions? They keep getting harder if you listen to the little, tiny you inside.

So when the going gets tough, the tough gets nonsensical. Try it, it wklwues.

Switch off

Commentary

Today I’m not going to drink more than three cups of tea, no matter how much I convince myself that my throat hurts or I have that craving. I will drink more water and I will make a mental tally of the liters I down by night time. It will be close to the big two and I will feel a sense of achievement for doing something that should be part of my mundane routine anyway.

I will not spend hours getting tangled up in website links and referrals and e-mails and replies. I don’t have to update my facebook status or tweet that I’m drinking water for the day because it is not important. I will not open photoshop to edit any one of my candidate photos for flickr. I won’t even browse other photographs for inspiration and I most definitely will not log in on tumblr. All that inspiration and clicks can be downright distracting, especially if it leads me to etsy. I cannot allow myself to go on etsy, or any other online shop for that matter, because today of all days, there will be no window shopping. Even my metaphorical wallet is empty.

I will make the bed in the morning, and I will actually eat breakfast because it is the most important meal of the day I persistently choose to forget. I will call my mom to see how she is because I will remember to reach out across the telephone line that separates the measly distance between us. If I’m ambitious, I will also make the 10-minute drive to see my grandmother, who speaks in television language because that is all the company she has. I will make her day by sitting down next to her and listening to all the episodes I missed during the week. I will call my friends for a casual coffee drink of water and I will make the effort to be more than a Facebook friend.

Today, I will set aside time to read my book, even if I’ve forgotten its title from the time it’s been to hold it. I will not do this before I sleep because I want to read more than just a couple of sentences. I will write in my real journal, not my blog, about the thoughts in my mind, the things I most wish for, the quotidien that saturates my minutes. I will think of friends abroad and actually call them. Or better yet, I will sit down and write them a letter, not an e-mail. I will play songs I’ve forgotten about and I will sing along fearlessly. I will take a walk on the beach and I will write a poem. I will jot down my ideas on actual paper that is inside a thought notebook, not a post-it note.

Today, I’m changing everything. It all starts today.