On what?

No, there’s nothing specific I want to write about. But then again it seems that I have nothing worth writing about anyway. Isn’t it ironic? I think sad is more like it. So many things inside my head, wishes, stories, ideas. Yet the inky manifestation of these eludes me. I see these grains of sand slipping through my fingers daily, and it’s leaving my palms empty and dry.


Shh… Do you hear that?It’s the bitter (and sometimes crippling) sound of cheap excuses. And as much as I recognize and acknowledge them, it’s still extremely hard to avoid them. We all wish that the day consisted of at least 50 hours, but this very thought makes our excuses even cheaper, and our lack of effort even brighter.


A peculiar thing happens to me, personally. I read a book that I really enjoy and by the end of it I feel a tinge of jealousy and an urge to write something similar. It’s not that I wish I had written it, but that such an idea had come to me. But it’s so much more than that. Ideas come and go, bullet points fly across the blank notebook page, new-born stars come alive before your eyes… and you start to write. But then, alas, the star begins to fade as soon as you begin to cradle it, and before you know it it’s died in your very arms. What you’re left with is the ashes which you deliriously try to smear on the page, in a desperate attempt to restore its former glory. But a star is not a phoenix. So you give up. And you start to doubt yourself again, and you wonder what the point of all this is.


If anyone ever wrote a book on my predicament it would surely be called “The Unfinished Story” Hooray for sarcasm! (as one of my t-shirts exclaims) So why do we do that? True, we often expect too much of ourselves, but at the same time, it seems that, more often than not, we also expect too little. We are only human, but it’s being proven daily that we lowly humans are indeed capable of extraordinary things. So we discover, and get excited, and take a step… and then we get bored, or easily distracted, and the vicious circle begins yet again. *sigh*


We have a wonderful expression in Greece (which used to drive me crazy as a child when my mother used it) which says: Δεν υπάρχει “δεν μπορώ”, “δε θέλω” υπάρχει! (paraphrasing) ‘There’s no such thing as “I can’t”, there’s only “I don’t want to.”‘ Which basically means, “I can’t” is the cheapest of excuses, so you’d better admit that you don’t want to and get it over with. And here it comes…I really want to…and it’s not that I can’t…or that I won’t…but that, sometimes, I really don’t know how to…

One thought on “On what?

  1. Ola afta simvainoun se olous tou kallitexnes pistevo. Enas zografos, enas gliptis i enas sinthetis, panta vlepontas tin douleia allon akouei mia foni mesa tou pou leei…afto einai efkolo…tha mporouses na to exeis kanei esi. Alla iparxei megali apostasi apo tin krisi enos ergou, stin sillipsi, stin ilopoiisi. Mono otan tha exeis tin empeiria na ilopoieis to orama sou xoris texniki skepsi tha to kseperaseis afto. Kai afto tha erthei me polles apotiximenes prospatheies. Toulaxston afto efarmozo ego kai apo oti fainetai doulevei…

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