Freedom of expression…
The right of every individual to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.
Sounds great right? How’s this translate in practice? Now, it is starting to get complicated. We all know that expressing your thoughts/yourself was never been easy, it is still not easy and it will never be easy as long as there are censorship, prejudiced and judgmental people who are stuck in their own ideas of what is and what is not and fond of putting others in boxes complete with labels. What the heck, you cannot even dress the way you want, come out the closet or choose a religion or political views without others riding your back. More so if we really are going to express our real uncensored thoughts. I wonder how many people say what they mean (and mean what they say) in daily life. In my experience not so many. And that’s why I am not popular. Mind you I know that there is a huge difference between being honest and being tactless and I would like to think that I am the first rather than the latter. At least I hope so.
Anything that associated with freedom (expression or other) is nothing but a myth in this world. Nobody is totally free. Think of mortgages, nine to five, duties, relationships, citizenships, religion, politics, anything and you will realize that freedom is just a fairy tale, a wishful thinking, an illusion; and freedom of speech, expression or whatever we want to call it falls in the same category. How can we express our thoughts and feelings out there when we can’t even say what we really think to our own spouses and relatives without fear of being an outcast? I know that people don’t tell their honest thoughts even to their best friends. Most of us are afraid of offending someone and nursing the greatest fear of being disliked. Image is all that matters for most. And don’t bother to deny it otherwise selfies and instagrams have never been created let alone become a hype. And before that, it is big houses (bigger than your neighbors at least) big cars, nice clothes expensive jewelry and private schools. You know the drill.
I wonder also how much truth there is in images that people are trying to project to the outside world. Are they really an expression of their true selves or a shot in the dark of what they think others wanted to see. On the other hand, if you care enough to project whatever it is to the public, that says enough about you isn’t it? Acceptance is the key word I guess. Deep down inside we all want to belong, or to be acknowledged or otherwise why bother.
Whatever our own personal reasons for doing our version of self-expression, I’m all for that as long as nobody gets hurt, go for it. Express yourself to the world and have a blast while doing it. Don’t be different for the sake of being different. Just be who you are and the rest will follow. But be brave enough to stick to your own path no matter what because I can guarantee you the ride will be bumpy.
Okay, I hung over the cliff to take this shot while my husband was holding my legs to keep me from falling down but It was worth it. The glittering sea, the rocks, and the moss plus the colorful vegetation that all glowing contentedly in the heat is a sight to behold.
The landscapes seemed to be glowing under the hot midday sun.
Here’s to the ones who are not brilliant. Here’s to the people who question the very purpose of their existence, like I do. To the ones who feel like they do not belong, to the ones who feel they were born in the wrong century, in the wrong galaxy. Those who are full of insecurities, worries, doubts, and fears. Those who feel crippled with paranoia and trapped in a meat coated skeleton. There are people like you and me, equally messed up, their souls equally complex and bruised. They too spend Sunday afternoons gazing at clear blue skies, trying to connect to their real self, looking for something to free them, to save them, waiting for miracles while sipping coffee. These people too are lost like you and me, their minds wandering aimlessly through forests and alleys, and places and countries, hoping to make sense of their own existence, hoping to be significant. Trying desperately to love themselves with the self-love they are told is the only cure, but failing miserably, horribly. So, on those evenings when your body and soul seem like two separate entities when you feel exiled from the home within your own heart. Know, I have been there too and it will be okay, it will get better. It has to, right?
What is not risky in life? Even loving or marrying someone is a risk, probably the biggest risk of all since nursing a broken heart and emotional wounds are far worse than losing material and financial assets because money you can gain it back as long as you got a sound mind and healthy body whereas the scars and wounds caused by emotional and psychological trauma brought by failed relationships of any kind stay and often time never heal and bleed by the slightest pressure. It alters your beliefs and perspectives in life, making you more cautious and distrustful if not outright paranoid.
Everything in this world involves some kind of risk one way or the other, from boiling eggs for breakfast to getting in your car and driving to work. And even there lie greater risk of making the wrong decision like flipping a finger behind your red alpha boss not knowing the person can see your reflection on the glass door of the meeting room.
Every choice we make in any given situation carries an enormous amount of risk, even those that we think are safe and ordinary like telling the truth or lies can lead to losing your job or a divorce or a fatal fight simply because you happened to look up at the same time a suicidal person is randomly looking at you, or you happened to be walking in the city when someone decided to drive his car through the unsuspecting pedestrians or you are at the concert because it’s your birthday and out of nowhere somebody open fire for whatever reason. There you go.
Life is a risk. No matter what you do and how careful you are. Staying inside is not a solution since most accidents happen at home anyway. Living is dangerous. You are a danger to yourself whether you like it or not. From the cradle to the grave we are running at risk. Babies are risky beings because of their helplessness, toddlers, and children in general too because of their natural curiosity and zero sense of danger, teenagers and young adults are liabilities with their raging hormones and beliefs that they are immortal. And what can I say about elderlies…
The moment we decided to hang in there we are in danger, so simple is that.
… one of those dying virtues along with honesty integrity dignity devotion tolerance respect and so much more. In this world when partner and job hopping are considered fashionable and so many options to choose from, loyalty nowadays is as scarce as rain in Egypt and as elusive as anything when you want it. Based on what I see read and heard around, nobody is loyal to anything or anyone anymore. Except for pets (dogs) probably, but then again I don’t and will never know because I don’t have pets and if I would have it will not be a dog or cat but cute birds and (gold) fish, nothing larger. I’ve been devoted to my other whole for the last fifteen years. That’s the longest I’ve been faithful to someone. I hope he is the same but who knows. Anyway, it doesn’t keep me awake. He’s a big boy he knows what he wants. Let him have it. What about you, are you a loyal person?
Most people are rowing against the current of life. Instead of turning the boat around, all they need to do is let go of the oars.
— Esther Hicks
…that’s how I feel when someone gives me compliments and praises my abilities and achievements. I feel like a fraud, a pseudo, I don’t have so much belief in myself. I find that my capabilities are nothing to praise about. They are ordinary, common, anyone would be able to do them if they really want. I am not special, I am not unique. Most of the time I feel like a fake. What do you know, I can rhyme! Even that is not noteworthy. Even children can do that. The easiest form of poetry I find. And haiku, they are easy to fabricate also. I’m sure you know the drill. What I’m talking about anyway. My life is the opposite of who and what I am. I’m masquerading through the days convincing myself that this is what I want even though my brain is shouting: “No, it’s not!” It’s for the best then I reason and on paper, and at first glance, it really is only it doesn’t feel that way and I find myself sinking deeper and deeper each day. Fading, till I am barely recognizable even to myself. Am I unhappy? What is that? First I have to know what happiness is before I can separate the two from each other. All I know is something doesn’t feel right. Like an itch that you cannot locate but it is definitely there somewhere and it’s driving you crazy. And there is this emptiness, a void that keeps getting bigger and bigger as the days, weeks, years pass by. My whole life is a fraud, not real, a fake, a pseudo of what I imagine or would like it to be. And I don’t know what to do to change that.
Every night, at 2 a.m. I go smoke on the balcony
Everything is frozen and foggy
I look around and the world is standing still.
Every night, at 2.05 a.m. a black dog arrives
He stops, stretches a bit, looks at me and then leaves
Between 2.05 and 2.10, I question my purpose in life
Sometimes I try to remember the past and I see the fog surrounding me
At other times, I try to be brave imagining the future
I tell myself: don’t worry, something will arrive.
At 2.10 a.m. a trolleybus passes
And that is the weirdest thing
Not my inconsistent memory
Not the shadow of the dog
Not my habit of smoking at night when it is incredibly cold and white
A trolleybus at night at 2.10 a.m. is the weirdest thing
Because there are no night trolleybuses in this city
There are only night buses
It is as if you expect a dog and you meet a wolf
It is something strange about my expectations.
As if I expect myself to be a wild horse when I am just a deer looking for shelter
Every night at the same hour
I dissolve into to landscape and I question my hopes
From the height of my balcony.
After the trolleybus passes at the same hour every cold night
I start questioning my present
I became a bit savage
I talk about poetry and art all the time and I stopped carrying about anything else
I am sometimes joyful.
And at other times stiff, grumpy and sad
I cannot bend down anymore in front of life
And from this island in the snow that became my shelter
I observe time passing
At the same hour every night.
– Laura Livia Grigore Paintings and Adventures
For a brief moment,
Entangled in your daily torture,
You almost had me
I wait for the affliction in my head to cease
But it never does
False speech drowns my mind
Caught in your network of lies,
I almost believed you
It causes me such gutless maiming,
And heartless stabbing of my soul
Somehow it’s better that way
There are instances,
Fragile and insecure opportunities,
When I almost told you
Emotive secrets chained to my heart
You’re not ready to hear them
Nor am I to voice them
In times such as these
Trapped in the pain
Listening to your hollow words
Whispering my untold memories
I begin to realize,
I’ve almost had enough.
~ by Pixel-Demon (Kathryn) via DevianArt
What it takes to be called “fashionable” these days? Expensive gadgets? (Guilty) to take lots of selfies (not guilty) to post on social media (I don’t even have an Instagram account) to show to the world how lucky you are? Big house? (Guilty) Big car? (Guilty) Having the latest trends (Guilty) of must haves it things? Jet-setting? (Is going on holidays a crime? If- then I’m guilty) How about a butt as big as KK? (not guilty) Cosmetic Enhancements? (Also not guilty) Job Hopping? Exercising freedom of speech in every possible opportunity appropriate and inappropriate for the sake of being current and involved in the eyes of… social media? Being tech savvy? Even only for pleasures (what else?) How about those current trends on fashionable illnesses like depression anxiety ADHD schizophrenia bipolar and all those delusional diseases and lifestyles complaints? Chronic conditions that modern medicine don’t want to acknowledge? Thinking of fibromyalgia CFS IBS RA, ME and bunch of disorders I can’t memorize let alone pronounce. Changing partners? (Guilty) Ever so often like changing underwear (Not guilty) Adopting rainbow family like AJ. I don’t know. What it takes to be considered fashionable these days? Tell me.
The best way undoubtedly of seeing a country is on foot. It is the safest, and most suited to every variety of road; it will often enable you to take a shorter track, and visit scenes (the finest perhaps) not otherwise accessible; it is healthy, and, with a little practice, easy; it is economical: a pedestrian is content with almost any accommodations; he, of all travellers, wants but little, ‘Nor wants that little long’. And last, though not least, it is perfectly independent.
― Robin Jarvis, Romantic Writing, and Pedestrian Travel
…plants. My plants. I care about them so much I often neglected my own needs and put theirs before me. They are the first things I attend to when I wake up in the morning (or evening, or night) even before I tidy up myself even though I care a lot about my personal hygiene too. I don’t care about makeup or beautifying products and only discovered the worth of a lipstick two years ago but I care about maintenance. I like to be clean though I hate the process of doing it. Too much ado and takes too much time. Especially lately when moving is not how it used to be. I won’t elaborate so much on that. Just imagine a machine way passed its time and you will get the picture.
What else I care about… writing. I do that first when it is raining (hard) and it is impossible to go out in my garden. I do it before drinking and eating and doing other things. I care about the books I wrote I made a copy for each of them on a USB stick and carry it with me wherever I go in case the house burns. I care about design too. Interior design. Cohesiveness and proper things in proper places. I care about design so much I will hesitate to buy anything for myself and feel guilty when I succumb to the temptation but I will not have a second thought buying anything for the house (or for the garden) I once spent fifty thousand euro purchasing things to decorate the house. I don’t do that (much) anymore.
Books… I care about books too. I can’t live without them. So maybe it is a need more than care that makes me treasure them. The urge is so strong I steal them from hotels when I’m on holiday. I will go to a lobby of any hotel check the book corner, take what interest me and replace what I took with my own books that I have read already.
Pictures… Images… That’s another thing that I care so much about. So much so that I back up all the copies I have saved in special folders. I don’t care if they are mine or others as long as it speaks to me I will save them.
I care about nature and animals. I don’t have pets but I care about them and hate to see them in captivity like in zoos circus and fair attractions. They belonged to their natural habitat. I believe they are happier there.
I care about underdogs, justice, less fortunate and elderly. I care about order, harmony, tolerance, RESPECT, and equality. There are so many things I care about and needless to say they are also the things that interest me the most.