riding solo in a car

She lays in bed tonight watching YouTube videos raging from trailers to comedy to music – quietly wishing for a long car ride.

There’s a juxtaposition of silence and sound in a car.  The wind blowing, the music blaring, the damn air condition fussing… crafted by a silence of being alone.  (If she sings at the top of her lungs, she knows her neighboring car driver will only see her lips moving but will not hear the possible off-key.)

You see no matter how loud the noises sound, the silence feels louder as her thoughts pound themselves out.  Hitting, bruising and escaping the inside… they beg to render into the silence of sound.

“You do some good processing in the car, don’t you?”  He asks.

A small smile covers her lips as the dots meet.

“I do,” she can’t help but say, maybe realizing this for the first time.

How can she deny the vibrant power of a solo ride?  Trapped in a vehicle with the noises within?  All she can do is finally confront them.  There are no distractions – even the music drowns under the volume of her mind.

it doesn’t always have to make sense

It’s easy sometimes, to think I know the world, but get lost in the details.  To think life is easy and plain but knowing it’s not and struggling to find a balance between what I think and what I know.  I’m scared of the quiet pain that lingers, eventually goring through my veins and running out dry.  Will the pliers come to rip me apart or will I stand strong?

I hear you talk about an old soul, at first fearful of its meaning and what it entails.  I don’t want to be one, but I find myself rooted there.  Unable to stager away and put on a face.  What you see it what you get, there’s truth in that pretty wide-eyed face.  You won’t be deceived but loved, just receive it she says.  I want to laugh because it’s overwhelming knowing but not showing.  Can I keep it up but there’s nothing to keep, there’s no game going on.  I’m just worried life has a way of killing the heart but causing the bones to continue on living.

Struck with endless nights and unending days.  Is that what the old people folk think?  Do they see themselves as living, but have lived and tired of living?  Do they want to leave the world and find Him and rest in His arms.  But are they afraid of the change?  Of maybe saying goodbye…  All I know is that thoughts betray us and people worry, when truth hits the mouth and comes out running.  Instead of acknowledging that sometimes, thoughts neglected are harmful enough to drive us all mad.

this is what happens when i spend too much time thinking…

You know, I daily get bombarded by my imperfections.

I guess we all do and this is old news.

But I don’t care.

Because.

I simply have to log on to Facebook or Tumblr or Pinterest – all three reminding me what I don’t have or wish to have or aspire to be or secretly long to do………

Most days, when I finally pry my eyes away, I feel a sense of sadness.

Please note how I didn’t use the word depressed.

Rather, I wrote sadness.  Yes, because each time I realize I am not doing something, I get sad.

It saddens me that I feel like I am missing out on life.

Meaning.

I’ve realized something today.  I love doing things.  I really enjoy being busy and having a busy schedule.  (Even though, I easily get overwhelmed.)  A part of me thrives on this busyness and it annoys me how I haven’t been very busy for a while.  I see life getting busy soon, but I keep wondering, why not now?

I want to do things.  I want to look at my life and be proud of the things I have done.  Not only work wise but adventure wise.  I guess, my mind glues on the days when life is slow and forgets how easily it gets busy.

I forget feeling joy, so fast.

It scares me really.

Recently, I’ve began believing that I see the world through a melancholic point of view.  My lense is full of relationships trapped in sadness and radiating my own fear of being trapped in one.

Gosh, it’s so crazy how some days I want a relationship and other days, I’m petrified of the idea of marriage.  What if it goes wrong?  What if one day I wake up and feel trapped and lost and married to a man who is harsh and rude and cold?  I’m so sensitive I fear utter destruction.

Not to mention, I am not as innocent as I may seem.

And here I remember God’s grace.  I stop this nonsense fear because His grace is sufficient for me.

Truly it is.

Yet, I observe relationships, okay?  They aren’t easy.  Men are not kind to women – no they are harsh and pay no attention to them.  Women exasperate their men – expecting the world and looking for a hero in them.   It pains me to be in the presence of a hurting or broken marriage.  Seriously, I often feel physically wounded, my heart hurts.

But.

In my mind, I know I can do all things through Christ’s who strengthens me.  I believe that I believe this truth.   However, the problem lays with my heart.

It’s stubborn and doesn’t like to listen to reason.

Making me very thankful that I have both a brain and a heart to wage war against each other.  I cannot imagine living with just one or the other.  I would not be the person I am.

This brain of mine constantly reminding me who I am living for and why.

Therefore.

My problem does not lay with the media I indulge in, but in my priority.

Each time I click on a photo or long to be noticed for my words, I am living for the praise of man.  Just like any artist, I want people to notice me, I want feedback so much it hurts.  I desperately try to keep myself from fishing for attention, but behind this smile I ache to be noticed and to be encouraged.

I’m just being truthful.

Which reminds me, I’m not good at giving others the shining light….. either.  Perhaps true happiness lays there: giving praise instead of needing to receiving it.  Learning to love myself, while loving the other.

And.

To you my reader, who has stuck through my whole contemplation, I say thank you.

a feeling of wistfulness, regret and remembrance

Today, I feel nostalgic.

A funny phenomenon because my memory is glorifying a time I struggled through.

How does this happen?

Well, being the particular person I am, I embarked on finding a new profile picture for my Facebook.  I went through old photos of last summer, hoping to find one I felt content with.  I have a tendency to want pictures of myself with an artist hint to them and therefore, struggle to find myself satisfied with simply a picture of myself.

Whatever.

(Quick note: I haven’t picked one.)

However, during all this looking, I’ve grown a sense of nostalgia for my summer of 2012.  I’ll tell you now, it wasn’t an easy summer.  In fact, I don’t think any of my summers since going to College have ever been easy, but this was a particularly hard.

I had lots of adjustment and change going on all around.

I was a recent College graduate who didn’t realize the shift of student to non-student would affect me a lot.  In late July I returned home not knowing when I would leave, exactly; at the time, my heart felt broken and my younger sister was getting married.

Even now, I look at that list and don’t think it terrible, but it was.

I was home and for better or worse, I was in a state of completely devastation.  I tried to be pleasant, but most of the time I was nasty and couldn’t figure out how to just feel content, feel happy.

Now, looking at pictures, I’m sure no one could guess of the pain behind the smile, but it was there.

Therefore, I find it funny how much I miss my summer of 2012.  Especially the good three weeks before my sister’s wedding and those after.  I enjoyed some good times with family and friends, and wish I had truly lived through those times.

I guess this is what nostalgia does to us all.

It’s a combination of wistfulness, regret and remembrance for what has come to pass.  Proving to me how no situation is as bad as my perception makes me believe it to be.

the limbo of unemployment

I’m living in the limbo.  The land of a post-graduate.

I’m not fond of this place.  I feel lazy half the time and unproductive the other half.  I keep saying I want a job, but I’m afraid of how I’ll feel when I have one.  Funny how we humans love, yet hate having nothing to do.

The less I interact with others, the less I feel creative.

I want to write, but I have no clue what to write about.  It’s like my own experiences aren’t fun for me to explore.  I don’t want to write about my life, which is funny because I really like Creative Non-Fiction and reading Memoirs.  It’s sad how much of a hard time I have with writing about my own life.  At the same time, my imagination has dwindled and left me dry.  I can’t start a sentence not feeling anger towards its pointlessness.   (If I don’t like how something sounds, I’m done with it.)

Lately, I’ve been thinking it’s because I’m afraid of what I’ll say.

Maybe I’ll confess a hidden memory, unintentionally – to myself.  There’s the chance of displaying something in the wrong light, making people look badly.  Being a little too biased.

I have a tendency to forget things.  I don’t remember things well, not until I’m reminded.  In my Creative Non-Fiction class in College, we had to write a traveling piece.  This should have been easy and it wasn’t.  I’ve been on countless trips since I was born.  However, when the time came to think of a travel experience I had, I decided to go with my most recent one.  An adventure I had a hard time writing about since it was so fresh.

A common reaction from my brain:  Oh sorry, you wanted a good memory from the past…..better luck next time!   COMPLETE BLANK in relation to anything.

Reason why I hate people asking me to share something interesting about myself.  I know there’s more to me than being half Greek.  Yet, it’s the only thought which pops in first.  Everything else blurs and my mind goes blank.

I want to live in a creative place, I want to be surrounded by creative people and I want to learn from it all.

after the storm

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

– ‘After the Storm’ by Mumford and Sons

I’m stuck on this song, this chorus.  Seriously.  Since Friday night, I’ve been putting the song on repeat.  I’ve tried to stop and listen to another song, but there’s no use.  I’ve got to see this through, play this song and let it embed me.  The lyrics are so powerful.  They strike my heart each time I read them.  Smacking me across the face and gently stroking my hair.  I want to sit and sing and play and get lost in the words.  Stay within the bounds of repetition.  I mean, what do I even address first?  I can’t seem to separate one line from another.  I want to comment, but I don’t know how to begin.  Other than say, imagine when love finally embodies us.  When we become as the Bible has said.  How perfect love casts out fear.  I see love as so powerful, so strong, we struggle to let go, but imagine a love which doesn’t break.  Rather it overcomes.  The fears are put aside and forgotten.  Lost because love has won.  And so, I get over the hill – my barriers.  I find something new as I overcome.  I find grace in my heart and flowers in my hair.  I find life full of courage.  Ugh.  This song is so beautiful.

third culture (kid) person

She told me
write about yours worlds.

I was ecstatic at first
and sat down and wrote
for hours.

But my words sounded empty
and my need to make them all
matter drove me crazy,
I gave up.

Yesterday, I came back
to a place many call my home
yet, they are blind and don’t know
that today, this place doesn’t feel like home.

Rather it feels foreign
and strange. I doubt it,
“did I live here?”

Then I remember her
words, and I’m sure
writing about my worlds…
will be easier now.

thinking about tomorrow

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I find, I am incredibly disappointed by people all too often.  Not necessarily, by people I know but by humanity.

I observe them and demean them stupid.  Lost in idiotic ways and easy sheep to an evil prey.  Grown men unable to say no and women too vocal to make any sense.  Suppose, we are the ones to change the world – what a terrible job of ruling we do.

My thoughts tonight come from a movie, a protest and words spoken to me.  Are we just weak and frail unable to discipline?  I speak for myself too.  Countless nights, I do nothing to press forward, but sit expecting life to change.

Friday, I walked the streets of Thessaloniki and found a main road covered with fliers – with a blue font contrasting the white.  I stopped and snapped a picture, continuing my way, noticing the people getting rowdy.

Aren’t they tired of it all?

They want a better tomorrow they say, return Greece to its glory.  Yes, by cleansing the land of impostors and immigrants….adapting their ruling to that of a new nazi, one living and breathing in Greece.  They call themselves the Golden Dawn with worrisome tendencies.  Too many stories have been told about them and I worry.  Thankfully, not all follow their doctrine.

Alas, here lies a nation with a past which dooms its future.

We all know its history… will those once philosophical Greeks remain, just as they were before, stubborn and prideful?

learning to write again

I’ll be truthful and say, lately writing has been hard.

I don’t believe in writer’s block – per say, but recently, writing hasn’t come easily.  However, this may be due to a piece of me not caring enough to write.  I haven’t sat and let my mind wander with thoughts or notice little details.  Definitely, not in the last month at all, I’ve been too preoccupied and busy.

Writing is not something I enjoy forcing myself into doing, but I believe in discipline and exercise.  Similar to playing the piano, I will only get better by playing.  I will only become better at a craft if I spend time developing and exploring.

Honestly, my mind has been aloof.  Lost in TV shows (yes, I admit), but also life and people.

I’m happy.  I mean, I feel good.  I am not a fan of my noticeable ‘laziness,’ however, I find my heart in this restful place.  I may not be moving actively forward, but I’m not stagnate.  I don’t feel lost or worried.  I’m okay without definite future plans.  Yes, I have preferences, but I’m choosing to trust the Lord will guide me.  Lead me to the place He will have me land in the coming months.

As a friend of mine put it: “I’m excited for God’s plan.  I’m excited to see what will happen!!”  Regardless, if it’ll be new or old.  I’ve found a level of contentment with being at home, I can manage anywhere.  (I’m personally, beginning to believe home may be one of the hardest places to be.)

Anyways, all to say, I’m getting back in the boat of writing.

I was inspired today and I’m hoping the inspiration will stay for a little while.