You Are Tired (I Think) - EE Cummings

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

e.e. cummings.

Few things can compare with that of literature evoking images and memories of people you love, situations you have been in and emotions you've experienced.

Vogue is Boring.

Picture: Kate Mos by Mario Testino

Before I get stabbed by the clunky heels of a flock of Rodarte wearing fashionistas, let me explain myself. I am (or was) a big fan of Vogue. It is arguably one of the most influential, groundbreaking and inspiring publications. It's editorials are impeccable and all the contributors are astoundingly talented, but I recently realised that my relationship with Vogue magazine is going through a very rough patch. Mainly because Vogue has stopped surprising me. I have completely lost my interest.

I consider myself to be a big fan of the press, and although I follow blog after blog, nothing really compares to the feeling of a shiny, big magazine or the crisp, well folded newspaper safely resting in my arms as I move away from the newsstand. As I put down the latest issue of British Vogue though, I most certainly did not feel satisfied. Not being keen on jumping on the bandwagon and feeding everyone the "print is dead" or "fashion magazines give a detached, one sided view of fashion", I'm prepared to fully explain myself.

No offence, my old friend, Vogue but you are so fucking boring. Let me walk you through it. The first 20 pages are advertisements. Beautifully styled, well framed, meticulously photoshopped advertisements. As I flicked through the sea of models doing the "power pose" in silk blouses and semi naked sex kittens lustfully looking at perfume bottles, I stumbled upon the editorial. Great, I thought, let's read what Alexandra Shulman has to say this month. Snooze. 500 canned words about the issue and the "inspiring" jet-setting artists that it includes. I've come to believe that she submits the same editorial every month, and simply changes the names included. Flicking through the rest of the pages towards the end, there is literally nothing that catches my eye. That is nothing worth reading, since the pictures and the apparel and accessories are attractive enough. But as I reach the end (after reading a 2-page article about eyebrows), I realise that I'm only looking at pretty pictures.

Where have your magnificent writers gone, Vogue? Where are the interesting pieces? The reviews worth reading? Hell, I'd even settle for a semi-interesting catwalk review. Sure there was the Rodarte piece, and the spread on Dolce and Gabbana as well as a Kate Winslet piece, but none of that stuff was even remotely interesting to me. Mainly because they weren't relatable and at the same time didn't say anything that felt new or innovative.

For me, it's very rare to find fashion articles that are engaging, that contain a certain cultural background and demonstrate a certain point of view which distinguishes the writer. So oftentimes, I make excuses for fashion bloggers, when their actual writing becomes a self-obsessed snooze that repeats the phrase "I've fallen in love with...(insert new, seemingly obscure luxury brand). But I am not prepared to make any sort of excuses for Vogue articles, since they are expected to be nothing short of impeccable.

I ask myself, dear Vogue, since the editorials and photo spreads are magnificent, why is it that the articles have been going downhill? Why is it that the one fashion magazine that set all the standards that no other could live up to, has fallen in the predictable, target audience marketed rut? The times are a-changing for the press, and especially now, where suddenly everyone writes a damn fashion blog, it's no time for Vogue to stop splurging on quality and actual content. It's no time for Vogue to stop pushing boundaries.

Where's the inspiration then? Get out of your designer minimal office, hop on your Louboutins and take a walk down the POP magazine office, dear Vogue editors. Maybe you'll get a couple of avant garde ideas.

And on a last note, I'm not buying the magazine again unless I see a cover that even remotely reflects or evokes the epic Vogue covers of the past. I like to think you've still got it Vogue. It's just a little rusty.

Dogtooth

Many may argue that this film is not for everyone. It's probably true; it's disturbing, graphic, gory and claustrophobic. At the same time though it's one of the few recent films that can actually lead to an interesting conversation or get you thinking. And even more surprisingly, its one of the few Greek films that deserve to be commended for everything from cinematography to writing and acting. It's one of those films that might for a second cause you to be proud and optimistic about the resurgence of Greek cinema. I sound like a smitten 14 year old going on and on about how amazing this film is, but I'm not the only one smitten; apparently, after the attention it got at Cannes, Dogtooth earned a nomination for an Academy Award. I don't plan to discuss the plot here, there are plenty of sites who do just that. I plan to recommend watching it.

Watch it. Grab a shot of tequila if you're a bit fainthearted. Watch it. With an open mind, thinking of all the possible meanings and symbolisms. Watch it. Let it shock you. Watch it. Let it impress you with the brilliant ending.

I'm not saying it is the best film ever made. That concept isn't even plausible. But it's a raw, brilliant and shocking depiction of a paranoid microcosm centred around the control of everything. And when that microcosm is a family living in the isolation of the country, things can get more deranged than one would expect.

Care to Judge?

We all judge people. It’s one of the ways we use to make sense of the world and others, I guess. Typecasting them, stereotyping them, judging the things they say, do or wear. Anyone who proclaims to have never judged anyone is a liar. Unless you’re Gandhi, at some point in your life you judged. It can be argued that judging someone is some sort of a healthy outlet of one’s fear of the unknown, jealousy or general feeling of uneasiness. It can even be a link between you and someone else. And besides, it’s fun to sit on a pedestal and point the finger at people, since it makes you forget about the things you’ve done wrong. The things you do that deserve or might lead to you being judged.

I struggled with the whole concept of judging for a while. I certainly have done it, and I bet other people have most certainly judged me. And what I came to realize is that in essence, it’s not a healthy outlet. Not by a long shot. It’s just one more of the things in one’s life that only bring about negativity, and I don’t just mean towards others, but towards us too. In reality, while judging others might give us an endorphin fix for a couple of seconds’ time, in the long run it just makes us feel shitty. Not because of remorse, but because we’ve filled ourselves up with negativity, whininess and vindictiveness. Truth be told, judging is a pointless and vapid pastime that only drains us. If someone is so annoying, unlikable and mean he shouldn’t be judged, because through judging he is awarded a huge chunk of attention that he doesn’t deserve. Flat out don’t include him in your thoughts and conversations; it only drains you of energy and good humor. And as for the people one holds dear and loves; well, they should never be judged. Even when we might not agree with what they do, even when they’ve got it wrong, even when they’ve pissed you off so bad that you fantasize about them fed to piranhas – you don’t judge the people you love. You support them, help them, and warn them. Hell, you just love them no matter what shit they pull (as long as they’re not serial killers or something). They’ll do the same for you, that’s what they’re there for.

We’re just human, and oftentimes we fall into patterns which we might not necessarily like, say things we don’t mean and do things we wish we hadn’t done. What I’d like though is to take all the redundant judging out of my life. It’s useless. Hell, it doesn’t even make me feel good. And as for being judged by someone; ignore it. Don’t even give it the time of day – don’t even let it bother you. If someone cannot accept you, love you and appreciate you the way you are or if you don’t feel comfortable being yourself around someone because you’re afraid you might be judged, then the hell with him. He can go whine somewhere else.

Why don’t we just keep the things that make us feel good and discard the ones that drain us? How’s that for a suggestion?

The British Food Challenge

Before moving any forward, lets get one thing straight. I am one of those people. The gluttonous and incorrigible ones who live and breathe food. I love everything about it, cooking it, reading about it, talking about it, eating it and sharing it with the people I care about. Try talking to me about food – my face will light up, my mouth will open and close at unthinkable speed and you will be my friend forever.

To bring the cliché back on the table, as a New Year’s resolution, I said I would fill my days with things I love doing. So, I put myself on a mission, named “Explore British food and report back to the people reading my blog” (a.k.a my mum). When I say British food, I in no sense mean eating at the 2336^th mediocre Italian restaurant in London. No friends, I mean hard-core dwelling in the day-to-day comings and goings of traditional, contemporary and really fatty British food and produce.

Coming from a place where olive oil doubles as water, tomatoes can be eaten as apples and tangerines smell from a 100m distance, British food is the polar opposite of Greek cuisine. English cuisine generally comprises of roasted and stewed meats, meat pies, boiled vegetables and broths as well as many dishes whose roots can be found in Indian cuisine. And of course, one shouldn’t forget the British pastry making tradition, but all of these will be getting their own individual posts.

Fancy reading the documentations and reactions of a hungry Greek girl, ready to try all sorts of tasty, bizarre, fried and meaty British culinary eccentricities?

Brace yourselves; we’re about to go on a culinary trip across London (and possibly Britain.)

This Year I Will..

Yeap, it's that time of year. The time where everyone decides that it's time to stop smoking, go to the gym, lose weight, be nicer to people, find the guts to apply for his dream job and so on. Don't you just love New Year's resolutions? For a couple of hours at New Year's Eve you actually believe that you will do all those perfectly plausible things -although you've been too much of a slob to do them these past years - and this year you will turn your life around.

Fast forward to New Year's Day. You wake up without having digested what you ingested the night before, you're so hungover that everything on your body aches, and guess what? Holy shit, IT'S THE NEW YEAR. Remember that? 2011? You know, the year you would change, improve and feed the orphans? You remember alright, but everything you said you'd do over fine wine and turkey the night before, right now is being postponed. And it will keep being postponed for the next 12 months. Sad, isn't it?

Well, dear procrastinating, postponing slob, the only thing sad is you! (Yes, I'm talking to myself again). Instead of dwelling in your bullshit, your so called "busy schedule" and the reasons not to do things, why don't you for once get off your ass and DO THEM?

Do things that make you happy, do things you love, do things you never thought you would do, change the things you don't like. The important thing is doing something. Being active, and trying new awesome things, and changing old, annoying ones.

Just think... there's an entire new year ahead of you! 12 months, 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes and 31,536,000 seconds of a completely clean slate.

And if you don't do anything new, noteworthy, amazing, insane, deranged or messed up with it, then face it: You're a complete pussy.

Happy New Year!

x

PS: if you're out of ideas, try this New Year's Resolution Generator. Press the Gimme More button until you find the coolest, most extravagant thing there. And then do it for fuck's sake! What have you got to lose?

The art of being a complete amateur

am·a·teur

 [am-uh-choor, -cher, -ter, am-uh-tur]-noun1. a person who engages in a study, sport or other activity for pleasure rather than for financial benefit or professional reasons.2. a person inexperienced or unskilled in a particular activity: Hunting lions is not for amateurs

Disagreeing with the example on the second definition, given that I often engage in amateur lion-hunting, I'm here to discuss the subtle art of being a complete amateur, and if one wishes to take it to the next level, the subtle art of being really bad at something.

In life, there are things at which you are good, whether that be a sport, an art or some freakish physical ability like twisting your thumb, and then there are other things; things at which you are complete shit. Not necessarily things you don't like; but rather things you enjoy doing but you're a total novice at. Everyone knows what I'm talking about. Yes, even the extraterrestrial overachiever that everyone went to high school with, the one with the 500 extracurriculars, the perfect grades, and the kick-ass clarinet playing skills (or some similar shit).

Well today, I'm here to praise all amateurs who've made complete fools of themselves while trying something. Yes, WE SUCK at it. But who gives a fuck? We're gonna keep doing it because we like it. And any perfectionist freak who has a problem with that can shove his/her sparkly awards in an area I will refrain from naming (because after all, I'm a lady).

Everyone has something that they do well, great -hell, even awesome- and being proud of your skills and talents is something no one should ever take away from you. But I say, be proud of your shortcomings, and elevate your sucking into an art form! Keep doing the things you love or like and stop giving a fuck what people have to say about it. In the end, your faults make up a large part of who you are. Being an amateur is great - there are no expectations or weight placed upon your shoulders - and after all, you might even surprise yourself!

PS: Yeah, this means that I will continue playing racing video games (including Mario Kart). I can proudly announce that I've been sucking at them since 1998. Hell yeah!