Once again?

I have just packed my suitcase. 

Got my passport, booked my taxi for the return late at night from Gatwick, printed out my ticket, separated my make up tools that I want to take with me from the rest but kept them out of the suitcase so I can use them tomorrow, put up a note for the cleaner, stood around in my room for almost two hours trying to decide what to take, compared the temperatures between London and Athens a million times on various websites trying to 'imagine' what a difference of 10 degrees might feel like, contemplated heavily on whether I should take high heels and my black dress to take the opportunity to dress up as well as go on holiday but my holiday self won again so I'm not, I sent out an email to the ones that might wonder where I've gone (my programme leader and my administrator) telling them I'm not going to be on email till Monday night, I put out on the chair the clothes that I'm going to wear tomorrow - chosen on the sole criterion of comfortable-ness - no accessories and soft fabrics, threw the remaining ham and mozzarella in the bin and took the trash out, wondered briefly if I know what happiness is and if I can find it where I'm going this time - or is it only defined as happiness when I'm away from it, when it's part of the past or part of the future?

Do wish me a good trip. I need one. I'll have a kebab in your honour. Or a greek salad facing the Acropolis. 

Friday evening, I am going to experience this

Σύντομα. Πολύ σύντομα.

Αθήνα έρχομαι. 

Έρχομαι Αθήνα.

Σας είπα ότι θα πάω Αθήνα?

Sleep

I am craving for sleep. Real sleep. Nothing that the magic of Athens can't fix. One does not need sleep there. Έρχομαι.

For a change

Today was a good day. Just in case you actually believed I’m only going to be using this blog to bitch, you are wrong (only 1% of the times wrong, but still).

Today was a good day.

I’m exhausted, my brain is fried, my body hurts from beating myself at the gym every day during the weekends to make up for the weekdays that are too busy to allow me to go, I’m uncertain about my concluding sentence in the paper I am about to submit to the editor (long past the deadline), I desperately need a dog for the zillions of tons of affection inside of me looking for a way to get out.

But today was a good day.

The concluding sentence might be crap, but I did finish a paper that’s (almost) publishable. Pilates was great this morning and my body is starting to know and show it. I’m listening to Κατσιμίχες because I got jealous from a friend listening to their song and it makes me happy. My nail polish matches my shoes. The pain of the realization that my support system, my all time favourite people are either gone or going away in a few months, carries with it the sweetness that they’re all faces that will stay in my life forever (WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT, YOU HEAR?). There's a dozen white roses in my fishbowl and my golden frame is ordering me to keep calm and carry on.

Most importantly, today was a good day.

‘And tomorrow is another day’, the elephant, still in the room, says. And I refuse to look at it in the eyes. And Superman will continue to attack the phd monster and its ugly followers with candy and brownies and hugs. And the monster will not be defeated, but it will be tamed and learn how to love.

And hopefully, I’ll soon get a dog.

Tonight

In case it wasn't clear enough last weekend, here it is again. In English this time, to avoid any possible misunderstandings:

It's official. I hate Saturday nights. I hate them, I hate them.

The glass is empty

Bitching time:

1. I'm tired of sitting on this library chair for almost 12 hours now (maybe 10, taking out the loo and food breaks).

2. I'm tired of regretting for the promises I make to various people for various commitments by opening my big mouth and then regretting doing so when it's time to deliver - when, for example, the editors are breathing down my neck to receive the edited version of a paper that the reviewer tore apart, which I now hate and which I almost completely re-wrote, which means that it's probably going to be published without being properly reviewed. Urgh.

3. I am disappointed to realize that my moment of enlightenment from this morning, the realization that I actually figured out my theoretical framework, is something that not only matters s**t to the rest of the world, but something I cannot even EXPLAIN to normal people. Perhaps because it makes no sense really. But, either way, they wouldn't care.

4. I'm tired of everything that's fighting for space in my brain - even when I'm sleeping.

5. I'm still not tired of this blog - my only solution to bitching uncontrollably and without remorse.

Απόψε

Είναι official. Μου τη δίνουν τα σαββατόβραδα. Τα μισώ, τα μισώ.

The Bubble

Το Λονδίνο είναι μια φούσκα όπου αιωρείται κανείς, μέχρι να τη σπάσει και να επιστρέψει στην πραγματική του ζωή.

True?

True.

Malta

A couple of you said you liked the picture on this blog and asked me where it's from. Last May I went to Malta for a conference for 5 days - it was a lifetime experience/an ethnographic rich point/a life-changing visit/call it whatever you want. I wrote a long letter on my first (horrible) night there - the lines below are extracted from it:



It scares me so much that ill spend more and more nights and days in mediocre hotels all over the world, stressing over unfinished PowerPoint presentations and trying desperately to make myself feel better even though all that really matters is that – again – I'm still a supergirl carrying my suitcase around the world, on my own.. With an extra empty bed.



It was not a good trip. But the picture reminds me that I walked there and I walked back and I'm still walking.

Making this a habit

So I have a blog. For two WHOLE days now. Did anything change? Let’s see.
My profile apparently has 21 views right now. Only when it hit 18 views did I realize that all 18 were mine – I’m still not sure how to navigate the Blogger (yes, as easy as it might be) so I kept going to my profile to see what else there is to play around. When I first saw 18 views of my profile in less than 24 hours I was thrilled –did I already attract so much interest in the cyberspace? But then, because I’m smart, I tested my hypothesis and I was wrong: I got out and revisited it and everytime I did so, the number (surprise, surprise!) increased. So yea, all 21 views were mine.
Now, there isn’t much really – blogs are about writing, so I thought I’d write something. Whatever. Anything. So, to relate to my only other post so far, it’s worth (is it?) making the following points:
1. I’m writing in English because I did not (of course, who was I trying to fool?) manage to stay anonymous. Not only did I not stay anonymous, but I’ve pretty much emailed ALL of my friends to tell them about it. Even the ones who don’t read Greek – along with a promise that I’ll also be writing in English. So, this one’s for you my darling non-Greeks and non-Greek Cypriots. However, I will ask you to please not disclose my identity (my multiple identities, to be consistent with my theoretical framework and avoid essentialist thought) in the slightest chance that someone who really, really doesn’t know me gets to read this. That will at least give me the illusion of that other-life that I want to experience, thinking that it might solve all of my problems. I still don’t understand why I don’t just follow the advice by White Stripes to find them where they’re hiding, in the curls of my hair, rip them apart and carry them in a shopping cart…
2. My blog has made further impact. Being in the library yesterday, ‘looking’ at my blog (wondering if I really have to be posting stuff for this to work some kind of magic and hoping that maybe I don’t really have to contribute to it, but it will somehow make all my problems disappear - I think I should finally look elsewhere for a solution on those), a non-Greek-reader friend approached me and even though I was very aware that he is NOT able to read my first and only post, I very proudly shared my new life in this other dimension with him. It was a bit tricky trying to explain what ‘oxinia’ means, in Greek, in Cypriot, literally, and metaphorically. Not sure I managed to pass on the meaning. What is meaning after all? I’m not even gonna go there – it’s late and I have an early alarm set already.
3. This relates to point 2. So, my non-Greek-non-Greek-Cypriot friend insisted that he wanted to have my blog address. I proudly (but not understanding why) email it to him. A few minutes later, I get an email with my first ever post, translated by Google in English! I found it very interesting to read to be honest, as if I wasn’t the one who wrote it. I still need to get the ‘translator’s’ comments on it. When I forwarded it to another non-Greek-non-Greek-Cypriot friend of mine I even got good feedback on my style. She suggested I write an ‘academic Bridget Jone’s diary’ and she offered to be my editor. Well, it seems that this blog is making much more difference than I would ever expect. And is this just the beginning?
4. Now, to make a serious point. I’m thrilled to be flying to Athens at the end of the month. Just thrilled! Right now it’s all I can think about – haven’t been to the city in more than 4 years, since the craziest summer of my life, when I volunteered for the Olympics and spent a month partying non stop. I’m almost still expecting to find the Brazilian fans at Monastiraki and Psirri packed with international crowds and celebrities. Even knowing that I won’t, I can’t WAIT to go.
5. I cannot believe that I stayed away from the gym for over 3 years – I’m proud to announce that I’ve been back for a few weeks now and it feels great.
6. (MENTAL NOTE: ensure that next posts have some sort of structure, some meaning, some purpose)
7. But aren’t blogs just e-diaries? With non-existent readers?
8. I’ve used a lot of parentheses in this post – I think that’s a bit tiring.
9. I wonder, how strong will the ‘race’ factor be after all this coming Tuesday? Will it allow for the revolution – as described by a BBC’s correspondent (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/7701877.stm)? Inshallah.

Σήμερα

Είπα να δοκιμάσω και το μπλόγκιγκ. Απλά επειδή. Από περιέργεια, λόγω μιας δόσης εγωισμού, επειδή έχω παρατήσει το Φέισμπουκ εδώ και μήνες, αλλά και λόγω μιας επιθυμίας να έχω την εμπειρία ενός τύπου σχιζοφρένειας – πώς είναι άραγε η ζωή ενός μπλόγκερ? Θα καταφέρω να μείνω ανώνυμη ή θα το πω σ’όλους και θα μεταφέρουμε τα θέματα του μπλογκ στο τραπέζι του καφέ και του δείπνου? Ή μήπως εδώ θα κάνω ακριβώς το αντίστροφο? Θα γράψω άραγε για περισσότερες από μερικές μόνο φορές? Θα διαβάσει κανείς οτιδήποτε γράψω? Θα μου αλλάξει τη ζωή (ειρωνικά, ρώτησε χαμογελώντας)? Ξεκινάω αυτό το μπλογκ γιατί έχω κουραστεί. Έχω κουραστεί και έχω ξινίσει και θέλω να το βγάλω προς τα έξω, αλλά όχι πια σ’ αυτούς που με νοιάζονται και μ’ ακουν υπομονετικά χωρίς να παραπονιούνται (τουλάχιστον τις περισσότερες φορές). Ίσως η ψευδαίσθηση του ότι οτιδήποτε μπορεί να νιώθω ή να σκέφτομαι βρίσκεται σε μια διάσταση άλλη, σε μια μορφή, σε ένα άλλο κενό να σηκώσει και να εξανεμίσει έστω και λίγη από την υπερβολική σημασία που δίνω σε πράγματα που μια σύγκριση με τα περισσότερα που συμβαίνουν σε αυτή τη Γη, τα βρίσκει πολύ πολύ πιο ασήμαντα.
Είμαι μια κακομαθημένη πριγκίπισσα. Τα έχω όλα. Σημαντικά και τιποτένια, υλικά και συναισθηματικά, κοινωνικά και προσωπικά, προκλητικά, υπαρξιακά και επιφανειακά και όμορφα και γνωστά και ανύπαρκτα και όλα. Και όμως ενοχλούμαι. Και έχω κουραστεί. Με κούρασαν και με κουράζουν, οι μονοτονίες, οι ακαδημίες, οι γενοκτονίες, οι ανίες, οι απορίες και οι αγωνίες. Το να δίνω ή να παίρνω χωρίς να είναι ποτέ η μαθηματική πρόταση εξίσωση. Τα φρούτα που αγοράζω σε πλαστικά κουτιά με γεύση υπό το μηδέν. Η μουσική μου. Οι γκόμενοι που βάζουν τη θρησκεία πάνω από τον έρωτα. Το μισοάδειο μου ποτήρι που δε λέει να γεμίσει και ο τρόμος μου ότι θα περάσω τα χρόνια μου παρακολουθώντας το να αδειάζει. Η ανάγκη μου να σε δω ευτυχισμένο και η αδυναμία μου να σε βοηθήσω. Το περπάτημα στα πεζοδρόμια του Λονδίνου με την απουσία της επαφής. Το σιάφλ στο άι-ποντ που σπάνια παίζει από μόνο του αυτό που χρειάζομαι ν’ ακούσω. Η περιοδεία των στρουμφ για τα πενηντάχρονά τους που δεν έκανε σταθμό εδώ. Τα καλώδια που δε συμμαζεύονται. Ο ρατσισμός που διαποτίζει τα πάντα και η αδυναμία μου να τον αγνοήσω. Τα χρήματα. Το ερώτημα αν όντως τελικά ψάχνω, δημιουργώ και βρίσκω δικαιολογίες για να κρατήσω τον εαυτό μου στο υπό και να αποφύγω να κάνω αυτό που πρέπει – ακρασία το είπε κάποιος, που τώρα έχει μεταμορφωθεί σε έναν ελέφαντα τον οποίο αρνούμαι να κοιτάξω στο δωμάτιο. Τα δάκρυα, ακόμα και με μια διαφήμιση του Ομπάμα. Οι ηλικίες. Η αναμονή στα αεροδρόμια. Το ότι συχνά με αναστατώνουν εξίσου οι ανυποχώρητες καταστροφές στην Αφρική και η αγένεια του πωλητή εισιτηρίων στο μετρό. Ίσως γιατί και τα δυο έχουν ως βάση τους την απουσία σεβασμού στον Άλλον. Το ότι ξεκίνησα ένα διδακτορικό με σκοπό να διορθώσω τον κόσμο, αλλά το οποίο επιβεβαιώνει το φόβο ότι το ποτήρι μόνο αδειάζει, έστω κι αν κάποτε είμαστε σε άρνηση.
Το μπλογκ αυτό είναι μια προσπάθεια να επικεντρωθώ στο νερό που υπάρχει ακόμα μέσα στο ποτήρι. Δεν ξέρω πώς.
Χμ. Νιώθω ήδη καλύτερα. Για να δούμε λοιπόν, υπάρχει κανείς εκεί έξω?