turns and bends

It was my first trip to Greece, and also the first time I missed a flight. As a result, not enough time to visit Santorini or Mykonos, but I did manage to squeeze in a day tour of some islands close to Athens. Another lesson learned: always pack anti motion sickness medication, or get ready to curl up in your seat (either that or sit on the deck right next to the water which was what I did). My favorite island was Hydra, where people ride donkeys to get around and doors and window panes are painted in pastel colors. Came back to Paris with several bags of pistachios and a white embroidered blouse and postcards which left me wanting more.

I never considered myself 'demanding', or 'spoiled', nor am I an 'attention seeker', but I guess being away from my so-called comfort zone highlights some of these qualities in me. When expressing how you feel honestly and sincerely is considered 'immature' and 'dramatic' you don't really have a choice but try not to think about it, and you start to develop a twisted understanding of things just to feel 'accepted'. Some days when you do allow yourself to think, you realize you're not entirely satisfied and you want so much more than this (and you probably can, you just don't have the balls to do it), but other days you think 'maybe it's not so bad. Even though I'm lying to myself, I'm having fun. I'm happy. Everything's good'.

“As a jealous man, I suffer four times over: because I am jealous, because I blame myself for being so, because I fear that my jealousy will wound the other, because I allow myself to be subject to a banality: I suffer from being excluded, from being aggressive, from being crazy, and from being common.”
― Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments

It rained all day today but it didn't stand in the way of my cupcake craving. I've always wanted to try Berko cupcakes because they scored pretty high in some reviews on the net, but simply put I was disappointed. The red velvet was dry and crumbly, as opposed to the one I tried in Jakarta that was all fluffy and moisty. The oreo wasn't that bad although it too lacked moist. What good is a cupcake if it isn't moisty??

So to compensate my disappointment I decided to drop by the nearest Guerrisol where this 3-euros shirt found me. This place has become an unhealthy addiction lately. Like every other thrift store everything looked filthy and unattractive at first glance, but then you start looking and these marvels (namely cashmere sweaters, silk shirts and wool coats) just sort of popped out (and in your size! and often under 5 euros!) I can no longer recall the last time I bought something out of a real store.. (which is of course a lie).

Strolling around the left bank during Dira's visit. While it's refreshing to see a more 'contemporary' side of Paris I prefer the Haussmannien side any day.

It's a new year. I've decided to stop being such a lazy ass and try to get more interested about things, and not take for granted the fact that I'm currently living in a city that high school girls swoon about. I never believed in making resolutions and I prefer taking things as they come day by day but recently someone told me it's ridiculous not to have a path or something to look forward to in life. I guess that person's not entirely wrong. I do feel like in the past couple of years something switched off inside of me. I've lived aimlessly and justified it as 'going where the wind blows' whereas it's nothing but an excuse to live.. lazily (don't know any other word to describe this). This year I'm going to try and turn that switch back on - and of course the first steps are obviously making a diy hex nut bracelet and organizing my jewellery - but hey a girl's gotta start somewhere, trivial as it seems..

While I thoroughly enjoyed living in a shared apartment last year, I can't deny that deep down I'm a mildly unsociable person and having a space that is mine and mine only is very important. I may come home to an empty room but hey I can stick whatever I want on the wall and sing along to Class Actress without worrying that it will offend someone (although I do think the neighbors can still hear me).

When you love someone… truly love them, friend or lover, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt—you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. And when they do strike, it’s crippling—like having your heart carved out. It leaves you naked and exposed, wondering what you did to make them want to hurt you so badly when all you did was love them. What is so wrong with you that no one can keep faith with you? That no one can love you? To have it happen once is bad enough… but to have it repeated? Who in their right mind would not be terrified of that?’

Sherrilyn Kenyon (via atomos)