Sunday, 27 May 2012

Viva Italia!

Vivia Italija! I want to shout on my last day in the country that welcomed me for a brief holiday time. I came to Italy with no expectations and no promises. Now that I am on my way back home I leave this wonderful country with warm memories and joyful tears in my eyes.

I would love to put all the good experiences down but as I try to do so they all sound as if copied from some cheep holiday postcard - great food, beautiful scenery, good weather... But I still must praise and give my dues to their coffee which made me excited and smiley with every single cup that I drank. The blend of mountains and valleys are now and forever imprinted in my memories with the unbelievable feeling of freedom as well as self peace. Red, white, sparkling, fruity, pale, dry wine cleansed my soul from life dirt to make me feel all new and ready to believe again. There is so much more unspoken inside me that will only be seen on my face when someone will mention the word Italy to me.

Vivo Italiano! I need to cry out, run and hug all the Italianos. They have returned my last belief in people. It has been a long time since I have seen such friendly, chatty, helpful and happy people. It is them who made me fall in love with their country. People have created the culture and friendliness, the so adored art and sacred churches, the never dying fashionable aesthetics. I now lust to live with them, eat with them, be around them, love them and hope to be loved back by them.

Grazi! I leave my heart in Italy with a dream to come back in an unforeseeable future to take it back.



Ciao,
Tina Teaspoon

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Unique


‘Women don’t look for handsome men. Women look for men who have had beautiful women.’*

Maybe this is why she carefully asks him about his previous girlfriends. She needs to know how good they were and how beautiful they looked like. What do you think about them, how high do you regard them? It is pure self torture as all she wants to hear is how better she is. It is good to know that a man you are with has a good taste in women but you and only you want to be the most beautiful of all or the ‘most’ in something for him. You go to the extremes thinking that you would rather be the shortest or the loudest (or... think what you want) if not the most beautiful of them in order just to feel special; and how disappointing it is to hear that in a way you are not much different from all of them. You are just another woman.

Being just another woman is the idea that scares her. We all try to determine our unique self and establish ones immortality in another humans mind. You do not want to die but even more you do not want to fade away in someone else’s life, their memory. 

Why does he not tell her how special she is just for once?

*Milan Kundera from ‘The Book of Laughter and Forgetting’

Saturday, 10 September 2011

Afraid

You say that you are afraid. That all of this is too quick, too much, too scary.

Do you ever have doubts about all of it? Do you ever think of turning away? Why?

It is said that a man cannot be happy as happiness is the longing for repetition*. So now that you have acquired repetition you are not happy again?

I am here and I cannot do anything more. I just wait... Maybe one day you will be sure.

*Milan Kundera ‘The Unbearable lightness of being’

Sunday

I like rainy Sundays when you are in no hurry, when the world exits only outside and there is no need to see anyone or to go anywhere.

I have my first cup of coffee in my bed. I can hear the raindrops quietly knocking on the window. I imagine that the whole city is having a lazy morning in a bed. Synchronised coffee drinking time.

At some point I decide to get out of bed. Another cup of coffee follows with a piece of toast. I sit in front of an open window and can smell the freshness that is only felt on those wonderful rainy summer days.

Total emptiness.

Only at these kind of moments one realise how happy life can be, no matter what. Time stops and only rain continuous. It is true, rain washes everything away so that you could start from a blank page again.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

Which one?

"...making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two seperate passions, not merely different but opposite. Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman)".*

So which woman I am, the one you want to sleep with or the one you want to sleep next to?


*Milan Kundera 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being'

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

life ideas

Have you ever sat in one place for a long time and watched people going by? No one looks back at you, no one smiles, not even their eyes. You can sit and wait but there isn't a person who would stop and look smilingly back really meaning it or at least walk pass you with a smile. Why do people forget to smile? Are they all that very busy, unhappy, worried, etc?

Once I was asked, why do people have someone’s (or something’s) photo at their work desks? Why do they do it? My initial answer was - I don't know. But today I think I found the answer. I believe (or I want to believe) that they have them because one look at the picture makes them smile. A short glimpse makes their day worthwhile. Maybe it is their way to stop, think something nicely or acknowledge their happiness and smile. It can be as simple as that a picture represents an idea of some form of happiness. (Of course, you could take an opposite approach but who would want to have something that causes bad feelings? Well, maybe a villain.) We can be so caught up with life that we need a physical material to remind as why, for what reason.

So I say to you, keep something with yourself that would enlighten you. The idea of your life can be easily lost. Don’t let that happen. Remember, smile!


Friday, 10 June 2011

words

Sometimes words do come out of me, like separate living creatures which you should never let out. They form this real shape and stand in the room, exposed to everyone who is around. And I hurt… I want them back inside me. But the words don’t care, they just stand - silent statues of my mind.
And now I am empty, exposed, hurt. The words of my mind please come back. I want to think again.