Saved by the alarm

Most of the times people, including me, say that they woke up in the best part of their dream. I have to say that today I was saved by the alarm, exactly at the right time, before my dream turned to nightmare. As always though, it was a weird dream.

Happy

A lot of people that I met in the past few days said that I look really happy. Yesterday, unexpectedly, someone wrote me the same on a pm on Instagram. Well, yes. I'm officially really happy for many reasons already and will be even happier with things that are about to come. Stay tuned. 

2020

Our great architect, Aris Konstantinidis in his book "The architecture of architecture" says that for everything we lose we win something else. It's the way that nature keep our life in balance. The year that is about to finish took so many from me. As you grow older though you know that there's never a forever thing. And you learn how to smooth the sadness in your soul. And you learn that you can control only yourself, your reasoning and your actions. And by admitting this, you also learn to forgive the actions of the others as a result of their reasoning.

The year that is about to finish also gave me a lot. Not just every day life things. Goethe wrote that if you know how to make wine, don't make vinegar. I definitely know how to make wine. And you too. Be kind to others, you don't know their reasoning. You will meet people who will lie, betray your trust, try to cause you trouble, say something and act differently, shout at you. What we call evil people. Look better. It's not the case. Those that you consider evil, are actually loved by someone. They are fathers and sons and mothers and daughters to someone. Studying Sociology the last few months, I learn that a sociologist doesn't put tags on situations. Just examines the situation on the perspective of diferent actors. Learning this in addition to the philosophy of the Stoics, made me want to become a better person. And it's not an easy task, as years and years of bad habits and ways of being are hard to change. I'm working on it and I'm making it. I don't believe I was making vinegar, but I realised I can make better wine.

As a new year is about to commence I urge you all to be kind to each other, avoid useless conflicts, work on yourself and enjoy every second of your life. Whatever you do, do it with passion. If you don't like it, try to change it. Remember, there's never a forever thing. That includes you as a person. Live while you can. And as I do the last few years, I'll leave here a quote by my loved dead philosopher, Marcus Aurelius: " Everything that happens, happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so." I observed really carefully and he is right again. Happy New Year, my beautiful friends. Be good.

Christmas

As a kid, on this day, early in the morning, I would grab my musical triangle and go around the streets of Nikaia with one or two more friends to sing the carols to unknown people and they would give us some pocket money in exchange. Some were really happy and they would even put us inside their house. Some didn't even bother to open the door. On the streets you would meet many other carol kids giving you information on who's giving good money and who's not. Sometimes, we would go to a kafeneio (=old fashioned cafe, where mostly old people spend their time, playing backgammon or cards) and all the customers would gather a good amount of money for us. Then it would always be Mr. Takis, the owner of the laundry that he was sitting in his chair and in the table in front of him, had a pile of 5 drachmas coins, those with Aristotle on one side, whose value was small, but I liked them, because in my school there was this bust of Alexander the Great and underneath it was written "I am indebted to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well." and we then learned that Aristotle was his teacher. Mr. Takis would count how many kids were there and then give each a coin. At around two o'clock we would finish. We would share our earned money equally and then I would take my coins to the bakery of Mr. Kozadinos, outside the cemetery or to the supermarket of Mr. Apalidis to exchange my coins with banknotes.

At home, my dear father, would double the amount I gathered and then I would go to Mrs. Sevasti and Mr. Kostas toy store to buy Playmobil to upgrade my American Civil War (with a twist of Indians) game or tiny plastic soldiers in Matchbox boxes. I had the Red Army in big amounts, then Scottish and English soldiers and French and Germans. The alliances would change according to my will. And I would use any imaginative other toy or object, to built my trenches. Used mosquito repellent tablets was my favourite ones, always side down, so the printed brand can't be seen. No war have a sponsor I was thinking (how innocent I was). On top of this, Mrs. Sevasti would always give me some toy for free, cause she loved me much.

Then it was the Christmas tree and the absolutely clean house with beautiful tablecloths and carpets and all the new stuff my parents would buy in this period, thanks to the 13th Christmas salary, like a new colour television or new chairs or anything. And a big table full of food and traditional home made melomakarona and kourabiedes, which I had the luck to participate in making them. And no school! Christmas was great!

I was really shy as a kid, so my career as a carol singer ended early. And as years passed the Christmas spirit was dying inside me. Till it died totally. Only sometimes when I was watching this Ebenezer Scrooge movie (which always makes me cry, even the thought of it) I was feeling Christmas. Now, Christmas is just a day in the year with a special name. I had some nice Christmas days in London with someone I loved and nothing really mattered.

I like all of you, that you keep the Christmas spirit alive with nice decorations, with nice gifs shared in FB messenger and feeling festive. I keep the moral of the day. And I keep this moral alive every day, the last few months. It's about the birth of Jesus, who taught us to be kind, to care, to share, to give back, to love even our enemies or those against us. It's about compassion, forgiveness, serenity and peace. I don't believe in heaven or hell. I'm just food for worms, after I die. And I believe that soul dies as well, sometimes even if your body is still alive. But I also believe that "heaven" or "hell" is created by our reasoning and actions, here. On this planet. It was some kind words, some of you wrote to me, that kept me going, in my darkest hours, even if I never told you. And I'm thankful for this. It was some of your small actions, that made me really sad, but I never told you again, so you don't know. My dead philosophers taught me not to let all these affect me. And It's still the hardest lesson I have to swallow. I'm working on it.Anyway, make sure you are close to those you love, tell them that you love them, show that you love them. Be kind to everyone. Care for everything. Give back something, when you get, not necessarily to the person who gave you. Never deny to help those who asked you for it. Some day you'll be in their position.

Merry Christmas, my dear friends. Bless you all.

The basics

The last few days I'm thinking a lot about my first days in London. I arrived with a large and a small suitcase, my laptop and my Nikon camera bag. I was only thinking how to succeed and make it alright. I was only thinking how to prove wrong people back home that didn't believe that I'll make it. I was living in a small room. I bought a pan, a pot, a plate, a glass, a knife, a fork and a spoon. All could fit in a small bag. I was drinking McCafe or Starbucks in best occasion. I spent my last five pounds to buy a pair of brown shoes from Primark to attend some awards in Reuters building, since my friend who invited me there told me to avoid wearing sports shoes, which was the only pair I had brought with me from Greece.I experienced the ultimate poverty for a couple of weeks. Zero money in my pocket. I was happy though. And I was happy because I was free from material things, I think. I was happy cause the people I met at work treat me like real friends. They invited me to nice parties.

I met the most beautiful girl I have seen in my life and she has also been through the same ultimate poverty. In her own words, she was eating peanut butter and bread for a couple of weeks. We create something beautiful together. We managed to survive. We stayed under the same roof. We escape the poverty. We did things that alive people do. We share experiences. 

The we became I again. I was full of grief and sadness and bad thoughts about myself. I had to escape from this. I lost the extra weight I had. I'm losing more. I went to a better job that fills me up as a chef. I started studying what I was always dreaming to study. I escaped. I feel a bit better now. I still miss her. I miss sharing all this memes, I miss her sleeping in my shoulder in the bus and fill my jacket with her make up. I miss her coming on my side of the table, sitting on my legs, filling each other faces and necks with kisses. I miss her showing me her beautiful drawings. I miss her filling my room with her beautiful golden hair. I miss her listening to my stupid complaints about tiny little things. I miss her laughter and her voice. I miss telling her "shoes" and I miss her telling me "milk". I'm probably wrong, but I still don't think that anyone can replace her, ever. 

Anyway, I'm now a bit better as I said, but still not happy. I have some happy moments, I have tough times from working and studying, so many hours. I'm getting rid of material stuff all these months. I'm meeting friends and new people. I felt being desired again. I felt people looking for my company. I wanna be happy like back in these days. It's still a long way, but I'm walking it. I'll make it. I have to go back to the basics to find out who am I again.

Assignment

I'm about to deliver my second assignment at the Open University tonight. My brain is like a jelly fish right now. So many different parameters to be considered and add, on what I am writing about. I feel like I was asked to squeeze some lemon with a squeezer but I'm not so certain on how to do it, as I have never done before and I wasn't prepared properly on how to do it, due to, once again, bad time management. And I feel like instead of taking a nice smooth lemon juice, I'll have some pieces and probably seeds inside. I hope that this is just a feeling and that at the end of the day, it will be fine, what I wrote. I think though that's the idea of studying. It's not about reading a novel or watching a movie. It's about squeezing your brain to reach to a certain result. And make your brain, thinking totally out of the box. And I have realised that's what the module I'm doing right now is about. Is about teaching me all the methodology I should use from now on. It's about leaving your comfort zone mentally. And I love it, I have to say.

Another dream

The room was half dark. Dim light was coming from the road through the ochre curtains. Everything was clean and tidy. No much traffic outside. I was in bed. The bathroom door was closed. I could see the light was on, from the little gap at the bottom of the door. Or was just the reflection of the light from the corridor outside, that was coming from the bottom gap of the main door? I was always confused by this. I stood. Walked to the bathroom. I opened the door. The light from inside blind me and a really tall brunette woman was pointing at me. Her face was pale. Was that her finger or was she holding a gun? I was in fear. My fear became bigger when she fell towards me. I realised she was dead. She looked like Lynda. By instinct I closed the door very quickly and stopped her body from falling into the room and onto me. My heart was beating really fast. 

I woke up. It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. I was dressed in bed. I walked out the house to relax the pulses of my heart. It was sunny. I turned on left at the corner of my street. I would usually be outside the entrance of the tube station, but no. It was a narrow road, like the ones you see in coastal towns in southern Spain. It was full of young people and a lot of places to drink and eat. Tables and sofas outside. I kept walking. There I spotted them. It was two girls wearing black, one girl with red hair, the Spanish guy who is a teacher and sings beautifully and she. They were seating in a black sofa. I felt so strange meeting them. She was wearing that vampire's wife t-shirt and her pink long skirt. In front of her she was having a trolley luggage. It looked like the one that was stolen from me in Barcelona. It wasn't this one though. Just same colour. She didn't have any expression on her face, when she saw me. We didn't talk. I talked to the teacher, asking him, how he's doing. "All good", he replied with a smile. They both went to order something from the blue window. I sit down, where she was sitting. I turned left and one of the girls with the black clothes talked to me in a foreign language. She was really beautiful, with a model perfect face and black crow short hair.  Never heard this language before. She was asking me something. "What are you saying?" I said to her. She repeated her question. Her voice was so smooth. I looked at her with a confused face. She turned to her other friend wearing black and they spoke in the foreign language really calmly. I turned my head. The Spanish, She and the trolley luggage have disappeared.

I started walking down the street. I spotted her again. She was sitting down alone. I stood in front of her. "Hello." I said. "Nice to see you again." I felt like I wanted to tell her everything in my mind. But then I thought that I shouldn't. "Are you staying here?". She said hello and that she had to catch a flight at ten to three. I bend a bit, bringing my face in front of hers. I wanted to kiss her lips. She put her hand in front of her mouth. She said that she was hungry. She stood and ordered something. I was following her. She picked up the food. It was two black pieces in the plate. One looked like chicken breast and the other like a meatball. They were not cremated-burned, but they were black. I left her and walked home. On my way back, I thought that I may ask her to come home to rest before her flight. She had two hours till then. I ride a tricycle, like the ones you see in Oxford Street outside Selfridges. I ride back to the street. She wasn't there anymore. Maybe I made a wrong turn. I went to the next street. And then back to the previous one. She was here, wasn't she? I ride further down. Where is she she? She went to the airport already, maybe. Should I ride all the way to Victoria to talk to her? 

I woke up for real this time. She was just in my dream again. My heart was pulsing so fast. What stories the subconscious is creating while your sleep...