The Forest (instead of something else)

Today I woke up and I realised that I've missed listening to the Cure - random or what? And not Friday I'm in love and other overplayed pop anthems, but the moody, atmospheric dark gem that is A Forest.



When I was young, I think I was listening to the Cure when I was 16 - 17, I used to dream that I would make a video for that song, with the camera close to my face and me trying to go through a crazy rain forest (and not managing).

Anyway, I wanted to write about the linguistic brilliance of Lance Armstrong's "confession" to Oprah (truly an exercise in indirectness, I need to give it to my students), but that will have to wait. It was definitely much easier to reminisce about the Cure this morning: I'm lost in a forest, all alone... 

Lucky 2013

No end-of-year posts. No best-of lists. No favourite movies, or books, or music. I tried to think, but I couldn't even think of something I really liked this year. Sad or what?

Now that I think of it, I did like Coriolanus by Ralph Fiennes, but I can't remember to write anything about it. And I liked Cararcho with my new favourite Ricardo Darin. And I liked Rust and Bone, with the gorgeous Marion Cotillard.

But of course this is not what posts are about, posts are not lists with links to youtube clips. I read my old posts and they have something to say (hopefully; sometimes) lists don't.

I don't know why I have grown out of it, writing posts that is. Perhaps I am busy, perhaps I don't have a lot of time to indulge on useless blogging anymore. I waste my time on Twitter and Instagram instead.

The biggest problem though is that I am not too inspired anymore. I don't have any interesting thoughts about things, or if I do (when I am lying on my bed at night, finally thinking of something) I can't be bothered to get up and write it. I am severely worried about my lack of quiet time, where I am not glued on my iPhone, browsing something utterly useless on the internet. I want to stop it, I don't want to be that person, but I just can't get around to it.

I don't know what 2013 will bring to me. I have no New Year resolutions. I would like to be more frugal, more stoic, less consumed by things and useless internet surfing. I would like to be this thoughtful, clever person that writes interesting posts, not the person that takes narcissistic pictures of herself and posts them in Instagram (that might sell my pictures without asking for permission...).

Can I be that person? Have been trying for a while, but definitely haven't managed yet.

But here's to another year; here's to another try. 

Who I'd like to be

All my life I've had these deep struggles with some aspects of who I am. Although I love myself (I think, I hope) I've also always been hopelessly upset with some aspects of my self, always wanting to be someone else.

Two specific examples deserve some elaboration.

I'm a hopeless shopaholic of the most ridiculous kind. I own millions of clothes and shoes, and I keep buying constantly. I like expensive things, and I also have a propensity of buying the same thing in slight variation over and over again (I think this latter is called Repetitive Shopping Syndrome or something like that, you know owning 10 million black t-shirts, grey skirts etc). I go to the shops once a week easily, also buying online at a good rate on top of that.

However, I've always wanted to be frugal, live with less, be philosophical and not care for material things. I like reading, I believe in education and I am annoyed when people judge others based on looks or other superficial things. Especially now with what is going on in Greece, I have this profound feeling of guilt as I keep spending money on shit, while my family, my friends have very very little money to live by.

My other characteristic is that I am the anti-poker face. My face always betrays what I really feel about people, situations etc. This is especially apparent in meetings much to the despair of my boss. I cannot hide my feelings, and as I often say, I have no diplomatic bone in my body. I say what I think in an awkward and un-polished way that always gets me into trouble.

On the other hand, I've always wanted to be blasé. I've always loved those heroines in the cinema that show no emotions and go about looking unimpressed. My husband is the definition of unimpressed-ness and (bizarrely) I always tease him for it.

When I thought of those two things, I felt very odd. Why have I not yet managed to understand, and accept myself? I like clothes, so what? I know it's not great, and I'd really love to be able to be frugal, but what can I do? It's who I am. I can try to be good and ethical on top of that, not instead of that. These things are not mutually exclusive.

In any case, I don't know how to end this post. I've just be thinking about all these things for a while and wanted to write them down.

Μακρυά κι αγαπημένοι

I can't really translate well the Greek saying on the title, literally translated sounds quite harsh. So, I will first write my post and translate it in the end.

I love quietness in the house. I love waking up, the sun shining through the windows and my husband not being here. (And imagine, I don't even have children). I walk around in something indecent but unsexy, I have my coffee as I want it. Most often I have no music (or at least no radio, but sometimes I play my old and forgotten CDs), and I browse on the net for a while, in silence, wasting time in stupid or mildly interesting things, just sitting there thinking. Today I even picked up an 'essential Shakespeare' handbook to brush up on my Macbeth as we are watching it tonight on the amazing Lyric theatre in Belfast.

Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, I love him a lot. I am an only child though, and this has shaped my self in a deep way. When I was small, I had to kill millions hours by myself. I had to learn to play by myself. I discovered early on the joy of reading for the only-child, and you would always find me in a corner not making a mess trying to occupy myself. When I was small that was my biggest worry: would I have something to do if my parents took me to place that there were no other children? I always went around with a small bag stuffed with little toys, so that I would never be left 'without something to do'. But as I spent endless hours by myself, this has become a need that transcends all my life. I love people, and I love my friends, but my mental balance depends on having time on my own to rebalance, to think, to do my things, to just be lazy, to not compromise on the music on the CD. Just to be myself. So when my husband started going for runs last year, I loved it. This year, with his new bike he leaves me for hours in the weekend as he cycles up and down the country. He comes back smily, happy, relaxed, with a clear head. Boring, un-sporty me sits at home and just rebalances, whatever makes each of us happy right?

Which brings me back to the title: Μακρυά κι αγαπημένοι, literally we love each other from afar. Not always of course, but for me at least there is always this need to just be without someone, just to sit there thinking, writing on my forgotten and neglected blog. Being 3 years old again, playing with my toys in the corner, regrouping my silly thoughts. 

When in doubt... more Korea

This is the trailer of the new American movie by OldBoy's (and the original Ladyven's of course) director Park Chan-Wook.

It looks sleek and creepy, pity it's American (much as I love Nicole Kidman)...

I posted it here because I have been so lazy and terrible in posting only once in a blue moon, that I am afraid that even the people who would like to follow this blog, would entirely give up on it.

The problem is partly social media: how many of them can one poor person sustain? Now that I've got Twitter and Instagram (thankfully still no Facebook, hurray - but what is to cheer about anyway?) how much can I do with my good old boring blog?

Mind you, I know that blogs are for a different thing, but even more so, how much time can one spend trying to do a coherent, good, interesting post? Anyone can tweet a measly 150-character word-fart (pardon my French) but a blog post should in principle be a bit more thorough...

This is not a time for being thorough, though. This is the time of being shallow, quick and epidermal.

Back to twitter then... 

Korea forever

Kim Ki-Duk's "Pieta" won the Golden Lion in Venice.

Apparently it's the story of a lonely man who is approached by a woman that claims she is his mother that abandoned him when he was a child. The story that ensues looks very much like a Greek tragedy.

"God, have mercy on us" finishes the trailer.

What is it about Korean cinema and archetypical tragic plots? I am sure someone could do a phycho-social study on the Korean psyche and tell us the answer. For me, watching their painfully tragic movies is quite enough.

Growing up, moving on

I will be 34 soon. It's a bit scary, I think. Sometimes I feel that it's not true, that it's some kind of mistake. A couple of years ago someone asked me how old I was and I instinctively replied '19'. And I meant it.

Last year was an odd year, bad things happened, at work, with 'friends' etc. But at the end of the year I felt that I was better, I felt that I had moved on from many things.

Every year, I feel the new problems coming, I can see the challenges ahead. It's hard being older, it's hard trying to be sincere, trying not to hide, trying to behave as one should.

But I guess this is the good side of growing up: by growing up you're also moving on.

And that can only be good, 34 years and all.