Random Thoughts LXXXIV

Picture taken by me: London, December 2021.

Just another day of hopelessness, despair and anxiety.

I keep noticing and realising by observing my surroundings, people in real life, and people on the internet: a very large number of the population lacks logic and reason, the ability to think critically, and the will to learn before forming opinions, sharing them and insisting on them.

And the more I see this, and the more I see behaviours that confirm this, the less hope I have for the future of humanity, but also for my own future.

Random Thoughts LXXXII

Today, London’s temperature has been reminiscent of Athens in late May or early June.

Warm days, slightly chilly nights.

What I miss the most about my hometown is strolls bathed in moonlight, breathing the city in, being an observer of the microcosm that late-night Athens is.

I don’t think I’ll ever love a city as much again, with such passion, such unbearable longing, such tenderness… And, at the same time, dreading visiting for too long, or becoming Athenian full-time again.

My feelings for Athens are as confusing and conflicting, as Athens itself is riddled with antithesis and contradictions:

Ancient and modern, wise and impulsive, pretty and ugly, resilient and clumsy.

That’s her core and her beauty.

Καληνύχτα Αθήνα μου.

My grandma passed away

I just received a phone call that my grandma passed away.
She was 101 years old, but that doesn't make it any easier.
She was a truly spectacular woman.

A bit of her story:
When she was a child she wasn't allowed to go to school because it was unthinkable to send your daughter to school back then, unless you were rich.
She learned how to write and read by herself, and she sometimes stood outside her brother's classroom just to hear what the teachers had to say. The teachers suggested to her father that she should take her brother's place in the classroom.
When she was a teenager they sent her in Asia Minor to work for a rich family as a maid. There, she had access to a huge library and studied continuously.
Later on she was part of the resistance (EPON) and gave people flyers to inform them of the current situation and anti regime moves they could partake in (something that was punishable by death at the time).
Then, she became a volunteer nurse and treated those who were fighting for Greece's freedom. There she met my grandad who was in the resistance as well and had been tortured by Germans. They got married and had two children.
She was very strongly urging both my dad and his sister to go to school and learn. She considered education to be paramount. So she worked two jobs to make sure they could finish school (as my grandad was a person with physical disabilities and a fisherman, so he didn't make much). She saved numerous children as a nurse, since she didn't ask for money to do their shots.
When her daughter had children my grandma raised them because she was married to someone who worked in the army and they had to move a lot.
She lived to see some of her grandchildren's children as well.
In her lifetime, she and my grandad made sure that they bought a house, so her children would be able to have a place to call home.
Up to when she was 80+ years old she would still take the bus to the city.
Unfortunately, later she became bed bound, and in the past few years she didn't remember much. But she was always surrounded by love from three generations.

This description doesn't even do her and her story justice, but I'm a tad too emotional to think and write properly.

Γιαγιά, καλό ταξίδι <3

"Happiness is a choice" & what this may mean

1. Mental Health 

To all those saying that happiness is a choice:
Try living with mental illness for a day.

Even though I agree, it's tremendously important to make an effort to train/program your brain to think positive, we need to remember not everyone has that privilege.
Because being mentally healthy is a privilege that 1 in 4 people (if not more) do not possess.

When you're suffering from mental health, you struggle to do basic things -like surviving. You do not have the capacity to be positive and see the glass half full. You try to avoid getting crushed by your demons and that more than often leaves you no strength or time to do anything else.

I have discussed this before, but it bares repeating: Happiness isn't always a choice.
Sure, if you spill your coffee on the floor and you cry and have a melt down about it for the next year, you're choosing to be unhappy about it. However, not everything is that simple.

Human psych along with how it affects our brain are extremely perplexed issues. For a person who suffers from clinical depression failing at something could have a lasting impact on their mental state. For a person who suffers from PTSD seeing or hearing certain things can trigger horrific memories and bring back trauma. For a person who suffers from anxiety disorder even small tasks can turn into a stressful and overwhelming nightmare. E.t.c.

There is a plethora of mental disorders and they affect people differently. The common denominator being they do affect people, their thoughts, perceptions, actions and reactions. So to imply every human can choose happiness is to imply every human can choose to gain control over their mental illness. And that isn't only impossible, but also harmful, and thus, perpetuating the notion that people who suffer from mental health are mere drama queens.

If it was so easy to gain control over your mental health, less people would suffer/commit suicide/self-harm/take medication/self-medicate and psychotherapists and psychiatrists would be out of business. No one chooses to suffer from mental health. And those who do suffer from mental disorders do not choose to be unhappy. They do not have the option to feel happy at that particular moment.

I believe we have had enough with this force fed positivity. Not all of us can be (or want to be) positive all the time. Hell, it's illogical to be positive and happy all the time. For instance, if you lose a loved one, aren't you going to grieve? Are you going to be happy instead? Of course not.

2. Discomfort & Solidarity

Despite the fact that I recognise good intensions from those who jumped on the "be happy" wagon, I also cannot help but wonder whether there is a slightly suspicious agenda behind it. You see, negative people, unhappy people make us uncomfortable. After all, it's not a pleasant sight to see someone sad, worried or stressed. Let alone experience someone having a panic attack or an episode. What do we do then? How do we handle the situation? Most people would rather run away than have to deal with such situations, either for fear of making it worse or due to them wanting to go on with their day. Similarly, even when we ask someone how they're doing, we expect them to say "fine" or "well." If someone responds "Not well" we're taken aback.

Nevertheless, wouldn't we want someone to help us if we were the ones suffering? Aren't we alienating ourselves by denying others' help? Aren't we forgetting that to experience a quality life we need to show and receive solidarity? Isn't this "be happy" philosophy maybe forcing us to seclude ourselves, pretending to be well so to not be a discomfort, or pretending to not see those who are not well so to not disrupt our routine or trouble ourselves (or possibly because this way we can keep ignoring the monsters living under our bed)?

An acquaintance of mine who is a psychotherapist once said "We learn about ourselves through experiencing ourselves through others." But if we only interact with others on the grounds of positivity, aren't we denying ourselves the chance to discover more about other parts of ourselves? And if we always hide our vulnerability, sadness or negativity, aren't we denying ourselves the chance to discover how receiving compassion and understanding can positively affect us?

3. Security & Core Beliefs

A conversation with someone who isn't "happy" may challenge us into deep dialogues which in turn may shake our core beliefs. For example, if you believe that people only receive what they can survive or deserve, meeting a kind person who is dying of cancer may upset you and force you to reconsider. Being exposed to different experiences than ours, especially those that are unpleasant, hurtful and unhappy can open new doors of perception. 

However, not everyone is ready -and some will never be ready- to have their core beliefs challenged. Our core beliefs are notions and ideologies deeply rooted within us. Sometimes for no particular reason than our upbringing, religion, family tradition, culture etc. Yet, they are instilled in us and having to question them may shake the whole foundation of who we are. And that can be terrifying. 

Losing that security of knowing that "1+1=2" and suddenly, possibly being introduced to "1+1=5" bursts our security bubble. When that bubble is burst we are floating in the unknown. It makes sense trying to avoid anything that or anyone who can lead us there. Therefore, having the need to always be -or merely fake being- "happy" is predictable. 

I am in no way saying there is a conspiracy behind the "be happy" movement/ideology. I would be stupid not to look at this through a critical prism though. 

Food for thought.

Loss of a family friend

Today I found out a family friend passed away yesterday.
I still don't know exactly how I feel, or how I will react tomorrow -at the funeral.

My parents came back home from their gardening session not looking as excited as they usually do. I asked them how did the gardening go, only to find out the news.

Mr. Yiannis was a remarkable man. He was born and raised in a small Greek village. He lost his dad when his was a baby, so his mother raised him by herself. He started working at the age of nine. He left the village to go to the city at the age of 11, apprenticing as a vehicle mechanic. Then, he decided to apprentice in merchant ships as a mechanic. So, at the tender age of 13 he boarded a ship. When he was 20 years old his mother died whilst he was in the army (joining the army is compulsory for men in Greece). He was completely alone.
Ten years later he married a lovely woman, they had a daughter together. One decade later he had to quit being a mechanic and return to land permanently due to severe health implications. His family was there for him, his friends were there for him. He was well loved. He was also very fond of cats. When he was apprenticing, he didn't have anywhere to sleep, so he slept on the shop's storage floor. There were a lot of stray cats in the neighbourhood and every winter they slept with him to keep him warm. They were his friends.
The past 28 years he has been suffering from many different health issues, but he always had a smile on his face. Kind, warm and welcoming. The past couple of years were very hard on him and his family. Surgeries, more surgeries, a lot of pain and recovery. Last September he became a granddad. I heard he was so happy. It is very unfortunate his grandchild will never get to really meet this amazing human being.
I hadn't seen him for a few years myself. I deeply regret it now.

But that's the thing with death. You never know when and who it will strike.

Rest in Peace κύριε Γιάννη.
Ήσασταν υπέροχος άνθρωπος.
🌸

Random Thoughts LXXIII

It's tragic to realise that life's so shit everyone is trapped in escapism.
No one seems to be happy with the way life is, unless they use something to take their minds off of it. 

Neverland

Since it was my birthday the other day, I decided to gift you a snippet of a poem I wrote about a month ago.

For the past few years I get pre-birthday melancholy during the month of my birthday, October (which is funny considering it's also my favourite month and I love Halloween, but hey! I'm a walking contradiction).

And so, here it is -partly:

'Neverland'

"Life’s already sad and boring; you’re not even thirty-one

Now you have to be so careful, and to bring food to the table

Pay those bills, have a career, and no option to give up

Always pretending you know what you’re doing, heart shut

Rude awakening leaves you wishing you were Peter Pan

Always young, forever young, eternal youth in Neverland"

Six Months

Six months of repression
Suppression,  no measure of prevention

Illness, stillness, subversion
No chance of recuperation 

Physical oppression
No escaping deterioration

Inertia, exertion
No hope for restoration

Life Game

In the academic year of 2011-12 (3rd year of my bachelors) I wrote a song inspired by the work I had done for my Independent Project.

That project entailed me interviewing people about pain and their memories of pain, whilst filming them, and then creating an avant garde piece of music and film. 

Which I did, and it was great.

In the meantime though, this project inspired me to write another song. 'Life Game'

I don't often go back and re-read or refer to my lyrics, but the following lyrics are depressingly relevant to this moment of my life:

"Pain is loss, pain is rejection

Pain is when you can’t find affection

Pain is racism, pain is bullying

Pain is when your heart is bleeding

Pain is physical, pain is mental

Pain is you on a misery spiral

Pain is shame, pain is blame

Pain is you not being the same?

Real life investment

You invest on someone and you expect everything is going to go alright.
You expect things won't change.

But then, people change, and things change along with them.

And then, you're alone. Because your investment failed and was a waste of time.

And you're left with a broken heart and a void you'll never be able to fill.

Random Thoughts XXXXXXIII

It fails me how life manages to get worse day by day.
Like, are things ever going to get even a tiny bit better, or at least remain the way they are, or should we expect to suffer more and more by the day?

If that's all that life is about, what's the fucking point?

Random Thoughts XXXXXIII

The world we live in has been designed to push the ones with no morals and no inhibitions forward and to hold the shy, the kind and the ones we care for others back.

If you're socially awkward, if you don't know how to climb socially, how to manipulate others; if you can't flaunt your talents, or fake them; if you don't like stepping on others; if you're kind, have a good soul and don't want to hurt others, then you're going nowhere in life.

Everyone says you need to hustle nowadays to move forward.
But what is hustling?
Isn't it to do anything you can to make money, regardless of any ethical implications?

So, to be successful in this day and age, to be a hustler, you kinda have to be an asshole.

That's what society is rewarding, unethical and immoral behaviour.

London & Art: Failing creativity

Today I googled myself, and by myself, I mean my online self.
Yes. Don't judge. I just wanted to see what kind of pictures I have uploaded. Sometimes we get carried away after all.

When I ensured nothing shameful has been shared with the world, or at least nothing shameful appears on google search, an old blog entry caught my eye.

As I started reading I thought I'd feel nostalgic, but if I actually felt anything, that was annoyance.

The blog entry was about me loving London, London life, reminiscing my uni (bachelors) years etc.
I was going on about friends, parties, and having a great time in London. Mind you, the post was written in 2012.

Now, four years later, I just graduated from my masters degree, which took three long years to complete, and I got a job (for which I am severely underpaid).
I also have close to zero social life. Firstly, due to many of the friends mentioned on that old blog entry moving to other places, secondly due to drifting away from people (as you do the older you get), and lastly, due to my shit finances.

In the seven years I've been in UK, not even one day has gone by without me stressing over money. And that takes a toll on you. That, combined with the masters degree experience, which was extremely traumatic and draining -not to mention the Brexit news- left me extremely... tired.

Rent prices and overall cost of life skyrocketed, which left me struggling for survival. In the past three years, I cannot say that I have lived in London. I can only say that I have survived London.

Many of my acquaintances and friends in Greece believe that because I'm in London, I'm living the life.
Well, let me tell you: I'd rather be somewhere else and live comfortably. Because in London, unless you make over 30k a year (after taxes) you can't live. You can only survive. And at the moment, I'm not making a third of that. I'm struggling to pay my rent, I'm struggling to pay for food.

I have two degrees, and I can't find a job that pays well enough, so that I can live with dignity.
Because, as someone pointed out on youtube, art degrees are 'laughable' and useless. So, apparently, I should have studied something I don't like, just so I can live with dignity. But then, would that be living with dignity? If I did a job I hated?
The same person who called art degrees 'laughable' suggested I should have checked the Forbes list of the best paying jobs before I started my studies. To her, it's stupid that I chose to study subjects that aren't on that list.

But you see, unfortunately, I am an artist. Every part of my body has been dedicated to art since I can remember myself.
I was four years old when I started singing. I was fascinated. I would sing arias by the window. I didn't even know what opera was at the time. I just knew how to make those sounds, that I later found out to be arias.

Then, I learned how to write. My whole world changed. I immediately started keeping a diary. I started writing stories. In the meantime, I was reading books all the time. I started reading comics as well.

I realised I also liked drawing a lot. I always drew, as all little kids do. I could be good at it, if I put the time and effort. But, I loved writing and singing a little more. And since writing was something I could do anywhere, anytime, I focused on that.

When I was eight-years-old I started learning English. I immediately started writing in English. I was fascinated by how well English worked with lyrics and poems. Even though, I still wrote in Greek, both novels and poems/lyrics, I started writing in English a lot more. Today, I rarely write in Greek. Nevertheless, when I do, it is something I enjoy and cherish. I feel that different languages work better in expressing different things.

In my late teens, I was in a band. That didn't go greatly, but it urged me to push myself to study music. I dropped out of my Greek uni to come to London and study music. I wrote lyrics frantically. I sang, I recorded myself. I was happy. The singer and lyricist within me was satisfied.
But I didn't manage to make connections, as I am an introvert and suffer from performance anxiety. I didn't manage to make it big.
Therefore, music didn't work for me.

I started loving photography around the same time I was in a band. You see, the internet made it possible to share your pictures, and to see others' pictures. That was inspiring to me. It gave me ideas. It urged me to share my pictures with the world. Even if it was pictures taken from my phone. I created a Deviant Art page. It's not popular at all.
My love for photography -which I got from my mother- didn't lead anywhere either.

My masters degree helped me gain knowledge in the arts (theatre, music and drama among others) and management, in correlation to marginalised social groups (e.g. prisoners, persons with disabilities etc.) and how to plan, deliver and organise relevant workshops/projects.
However, as I lack people's skills, which are essential to work on this field, I didn't manage to get a job on that field.

Now I'm a notetaker for uni students with disabilities. Despite the fact that I enjoy the job, and I learn so many things for free, this isn't a post grad job. It's a I'm-still-doing-my-bacherlor-degree job. Which means I'm extremely underpaid considering my qualifications -and the fact that I work for an agency means they get a lot of my money.

So all of these years of studying, all of these years of creating... and nothing came out of them.

I have hundreds of pieces of writing that I've written over the years. I also have hundreds of drawings. And I used to have a lot of recordings of me singing, but many of those I decided not to keep. But I do have a few finished songs, recorded for uni, and a couple of performances. I have thousands of pictures I have taken.

In vain.

It's sad. It's really sad. But you may ask: How is this relevant to London, wouldn't it be the same if you were in Greece?

Maybe, maybe not. But at least in Greece I would be more comfortable financially.

However, the thing is, London is known for its art scene. It's known to be the USA of Europe. Meaning, it is the land of opportunity, and aspiring artists from all sorts of backgrounds and art forms come here to make it.

Or it was supposed to be. Or it used to be. But it's not anymore.

Take it from someone who has lived in London for almost seven years now:
London isn't an easy place to be. And with all the instability that the Brexit brought, the prices rising even more, it's turning into a very ugly place; a place that isn't very friendly to foreigners and poor people.

I can't even remember why I started this blog entry anymore. So, I'll stop here, hoping that one day, maybe, just maybe, I will be given the opportunity to live with dignity, as an artist, in this world.


-

Mental illness

There should be no stigma around mental illness.

There should be no bullying, no shaming, no punishing.

There should be empathy, understanding and support.

If you feel you can't support a person who suffers from mental illness that's ok. It can be emotionally draining and highly demanding. But at least don't bring that person down. Don't shame them or make fun of their illness.

I'm a person who has been suffering from mental illness since I was a child, since I started being conscious of my surroundings and myself.

I'm not a stereotype, I'm not a statistic and I'm definitely not "crazy" or "mental."

I'm not an indication of how other people who suffer from mental illnesses are. Each of us is different. Even if we suffer from the same condition, we're still different.

I'm not asking the people around me to be my therapist, carer etc. If I'm forming bonds and relationships with people it's because I like them, respect them etc. Not because I'm expecting to be taken care of. I can take care of myself. And if I can't, I'll refer to a professional.

Even though I suffer from mental illness myself, there were times when I distanced myself from other people who suffered from mental illness because I couldn't handle the impact their condition had on me. And that's ok. Because self care is a priority and it's important. But I never insulted those people for their conditions, I never shamed them nor blamed them. I walked away discreetly and respectfully.

Respect is tremendously important. We're not less of a human due to our mental illnesses. On the contrary, we are emotional, we feel, we exist. And we deserve respect, as any other being on this planet.

So, if you feel you can't understand mental illness, if you feel you don't want to do research on it, at least do not judge people who suffer from it.

Random Thoughts XXXVIII

I miss you so much. I wanna touch you. I'm hungry for you...

Random Thoughts XXXVII

That moment when young people no longer have the luxury to make mistakes and not think of the future, we know the previous generations fucked up...

Random Thoughts XXX

If you realised with how much intensity I feel everything, you'd never hurt me again.

Let's welcome 2015

Tomorrow is the last day of 2014.
Many people, blogs, and pages in general started talking about the big events of 2014, the funny/ugly/epic moments. It's a habit many of us practice.
I personally feel the new years eve is way more important than christmas. I'm not religious after all.
Therefore that moment when a year is over and we're moving to a new period of time, a new era, seems way more important and celebratory to me.

So... 2014. I wanna say this has been the worst year of my life, but then again I would be ignoring some glorious moments I had.
2014 brought me problems, many problems... It brought me anxiety, depression, failure, break-ups, heart aches, betrayals, end of long-term friendships, financial difficulties and overall frustration and hopelessness.
However, 2014 also brought me new friends, happy moments, love, passion, feelings, support from people I wasn't expecting it from, presents from friends and strangers and it made me redefine my identity and discover other sides of myself that I didn't have the chance to explore before.

I do appreciate all that has come my way this year, good and bad.
But for once I want to wish and hope that this new year will not be a roller coaster like the previous years have been. It seems things happen to me with great intensity; good and bad things. That can be extremely tiring.
For a change I would rather have a stable -even a tad boring- year where I will be able to focus on finishing my degree -finally- and then moving on to living my life again.

-Ready for 2015

Random Thoughts XXVIII

It's sad you know.

When this world forces you to burry your humanity.

It's really sad.

Random Thoughts XXVII

I started wearing black when I was fifteen.
"It is a phase, she's a teenager", people used to say.
They also associated my style with the music I was listening to.
It was the transition from commercial pop/rock to metal music and darker sounds in general.
I started getting more piercings, wanting to get tattoos, wearing spikes, dying my hair black, putting dark make up on...
At first people called me a metal head. Then, when I started wearing long skirts and doing a more feminine make up they called me a goth.
I have never really considered myself as gothic. Yes, I do like all things dark and depressive and I have been wearing black for more than 10 years consistently, but does that mean I'm a goth?
I have always been drawn to dark themes/images/sounds, gloominess, depression and I'm fascinated by the occult. But still, there many other things I like as well.
At times I like listening to pop/r'n'b and commercial music as well. I like edm music too. I love dnb and couldn't live without raving. I like meditating, I like being happy and I also like cute stuff (excluding the colour pink which I hate). I couldn't live without partying and sharing happy moments with my friends. And I could go on and on. My life and tastes are characterised by antithesis.
Do I qualify as a goth just because of one part of who I am? But then again, who is only one thing?
I am a woman, a female, a human, a feminist, a student, a friend, a lover, a daughter, a poet, a writer, a lyricist, a vocalist, an artist, a thinker, a creator etc. So maybe I am a goth, too.
When people try to label me I feel extremely uncomfortable. Their labels can't define me, I'm too perplexed for that. I'm not an object that you can just label. Lara isn't just one thing. Lara is Lara. As you are you. And they are they.