tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32745902861937548142024-03-13T04:35:36.310+02:00Μη μου τους κυκλους ταρασσεΔρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.comBlogger350125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-90531215025250360422020-01-08T18:16:00.002+02:002020-01-08T18:16:53.035+02:00EmptySometimes I feel I'm in preservation mode.<br />
I eat just enough in order not to pass out.<br />
I sleep only to fit in.<br />
I function only when necessary just so I fool people<br />
I give just enough love to avoid questioning.<br />
And the smiles, oh the smiles. They are my saviours, my ubiquitous camouflage that never fails me. Except from when the software gets to randomly choose one and decides to have some fun.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-44258835153325563552017-07-24T09:37:00.000+03:002017-07-24T09:37:12.947+03:00I run on batteriesSometimes I think I must look quite sad. I sometimes picture an imaginary mirror in front of me, like the other day in the car. And it feels as if my face is permanently affected by a stroke with sadness being the only emotion being able to be expressed.<br />
I wonder if somebody noticed; someone in the other cars. Maybe I even looked funny to some of them. I wonder if my sadness is as visible as it feels. As graspable.<br />
<br />
<br />Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-89182615689869059512017-06-29T14:10:00.000+03:002017-06-29T14:10:51.242+03:00<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I haven’t
yet mastered the art of putting my shield up at the right time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m talking
about the shield that ricochets bullshit from random people. I’m working on it.
Meanwhile, I’ve been exploring how crappy the welcome party to parenthood is. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I’m
talking about the party thrown by other parents. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Yes, I need to make myself
clearer now. It’s the tiredness. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems
that parenthood as a brand new, virgin territory is the jugular which
senior ranking parents go for to diminish the hell out of you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Not good
enough. Not caring enough. Not motherly (never fatherly) enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">You’re too
independent. Too self-absorbed. Too happy even. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I’ve met
parents who are having a blast - born to do this apparently. The happiest
people on earth. Making it all seem like Disneyland; realistically chaotic yet
fucking amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And I’ve
met parents who absolutely hate it. Hate it to the core but can’t admit it. Interesting
species.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">And then there
are the other ones. The monstrosities. Worthless and miserable. With nothing to
exhibit but their biological ability to procreate, they adopt a strenuously unabashed stare at everyone else. So much fun when you shock them or an utter disgust if you
fail to spot them soon enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-52827392118596362452017-05-09T13:12:00.000+03:002017-05-09T13:12:20.435+03:00aftertaste-You stopped having nightmares.<br />
<i>-Is this a bad thing?</i><br />
-I'm not sure. Isn't it?<br />
<i>-You know there's nothing I can do about it.</i><br />
-There must be something.<br />
<i>-I'm afraid not. I just don't care anymore. Besides, I've met someone else.</i><br />
-What are you telling me?<br />
-<i>I'm telling you that I've met somebody. Somebody new. There's nothing really special about him. He's just new</i>.<br />
<br />Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-31158640616229069072017-02-01T21:26:00.000+02:002017-02-01T21:26:35.843+02:00Bite marksI miss it. I freaking miss it. I need to accept that. Yes, I know, I'm in a different place now and yes, I know, I'm more mature now and self-aware and all that crap. I <i>am</i> self-aware. Fuck yeah. I am aware that I can't help but miss it. Everything around me is expecting me to change, waiting for me to transform into another species and yet all my senses are telling me that I'm not made for this. No wait, I'm not made for <i>just</i> this. I can't be both though. I can't support a double life. I can't moonlight. Don't have the time, the energy, the will. All I have are my instincts. As if I've been bitten by a vampire and I'm trying to cover the mark. Can't fight blood.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-85063567994914351072016-10-16T18:25:00.001+03:002016-10-16T18:25:16.162+03:00AEverything changes. I keep saying this to myself, I keep seeing the evidence but no matter how unequivocal it is there is no possible way I will be ready for this.<br />
I'm not mature enough, not sure enough, not yet.<br />
I'm waiting. For something. I guess it's you.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-30149754651165093442016-08-10T00:32:00.001+03:002016-08-10T00:32:56.988+03:00No damn titleI'm tired of taking shit from friends. And if that means I won't have any, I don't give a shit right now.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-32480261666645059262016-08-05T11:30:00.000+03:002016-08-05T11:30:19.760+03:00DreamI had a dream I was in love with a man wearing a mask which was something between Kiss and some kind of monsters. When he removed the mask, I was enchanted. He was incredibly handsome, had that kind of beauty that nobody else likes apart from me: a primitive savageness and slightly scary at the same time. I was so tiny next to him, as if he was Conan the barbarian, without the whole muscle pump, and was quite older than me. The monster protected me and also decided for everything which made me feel inexplicably secure. I was a damsel in distress and he was my protector.<br />
Diagnose: Daddy issues. Either this or I should had married a rich powerful mafia guy.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-69773408611296072072016-07-11T09:22:00.002+03:002016-07-11T09:22:52.299+03:00Dear diary<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst">
<span lang="EL">Η
μεγαλύτερη ίσως μοναξιά είναι να νιώθεις ότι εκτοπίζεσαι από το ίδιο σου το
σώμα. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">The invaders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="EN-US">You’re not there anymore. As if your body has been snatched by aliens
and you’re just waiting for the chestburster scene. Helpless. In a horror film
you’d have ‘help’ supernaturally carved on your body.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
Not there yet.</div>
Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-7296760710502142572016-04-12T11:33:00.000+03:002016-04-12T11:33:39.258+03:00In my headWhen you come, it's as if you're coming from another world, another planet.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-27330697026048008782016-03-28T00:34:00.000+03:002016-03-28T00:34:26.148+03:00Viscosity<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>There have been new additions on your file.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>You have been having heart palpitations. High heart rate
too.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>All indicators point to stress.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can’t you just adjust me; maybe I’m running low on engine
oil. Could be the filters too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-20372122644879404922016-03-20T16:54:00.000+02:002016-03-20T16:54:16.541+02:00Tired biscuits<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It’s not
that I don’t like my job; I do. Apparently, there’s a huge difference between
the job you do and the job you’re actually doing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EL">Νομίζω αποφάσισα τελικά
ότι τούτο που θα ήθελα να κάμνω είναι να ψήνω γλυκά τζιαι μπισκότα στο μικρό μου
</span>caf<span lang="EL">é κάπου μακριά που την
πόλη, με </span>bistro<span lang="EL">-</span>like <span lang="EL">μεταλλικές καρέκλες τζιαι </span>vintage <span lang="EL">μεγάλα φλυτζάνια του καφέ. Εντάξει,
για τα φλυτζάνια εν είμαι σίουρη ακόμα. Το υπερβολικό </span>vintage<span lang="EL"> κάμνει με να δισπιρκώ σε κάποιες φάσεις. Χωρίς
πολλούς πελάτες, αρκετούς όμως για να συντηρώ τη δουλειά μου τζιαι να μπορώ να
περνώ το χρόνο μου θκιαβάζοντας, γράφοντας τζιαι βλέποντας ταινίες. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-85387817149092071782016-02-15T12:55:00.000+02:002016-02-15T12:57:28.757+02:00Flirting CochonsΝα λαλείς όσο πιο ευγενικά μπορείς σε άνθρωπο που συναναστρέφεσαι επαγγελματικά ότι εν ενδιαφέρεσαι να γίνει κάτι μεταξύ σας τζιαι να σου λαλεί πόσο χαιρεται που εξελίχθηκε χαλαρά η φάση τζιαι "εν τρέχει τίποτε, είπα να δοκιμάσω, εκτιμώ το που είσουν ειλικρινής" τζιαι την επόμενη φορά που το θωρείς έξω τζιαι πάεις με χαρά να το σιερετίσεις να σου λαλεί επιδεικτικά "θύμισμου το όνομα σου; δρακουλίνα είπαμε;" Πόσο κόμπλεξ ρε κουμπάρε.<br />
<br />
Να κάμνει ο άλλος ότι εν σε ξέρει επειδή ήβρεν γκόμενα. Φίλος, όι πρώην. Το 2016.<br />
<br />
Να σε σταματά αστυνομικός για να σε γράψει τζιαι να σου κολλά, τζιαι επειδή έσιει τζιαι τα στοιχεία σου να σε κάμνει add στο facebook. Delete.<br />
<br />
Να απορρίπτει όποια κοπέλλα γνωρίσει με ύφος κριτή παρακμιακού talent show που προσπαθεί να κάμει νούμερα "λυπάμαι, δε με κέρδισες". Ο τύπος. Ο άχαρος, άοσμος, εθισμένος στο facebook, "εν-έχω-καν-six-pack-για-να-το-παίζω-γκόμενος" τύπος.<br />
<br />
<br />Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-56933191969891111812016-02-09T13:25:00.001+02:002016-02-09T13:26:08.167+02:00Ορκίζομαιότι το πρωί κατά τις 3 ενώ οδηγούσα στο highway, για λλία δευτερόλεπτα εκοπήκαν μου τα ήπατα νομίζοντας ότι είδα ένα ιπτάμενο δίσκο να διασχίζει τον αυτοκινητόδρομο. Ήταν ένα φορτηγό με ψυχεδελικό φωτισμό. Σε στροφή.<br />
<br />
Επειδή κάποιες μέρες ζω σε ένα παράλληλο low-budget sci-fi σύμπαν.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-71933523062166475482016-02-03T15:51:00.000+02:002016-02-03T15:51:13.680+02:00him and a sniperΑν είσαι γυναίκα, εν σε λαμβάνουν υπόψην.<br />
Αν είσαι μιτσιά, έκατσες πάνω.<br />
Αν είσαι άσαστη, εννα σε δουν υποτιμητικά.<br />
Αν είσαι περιποιημένη, εννα σε δουν που πάνω ως κάτω. Κατίσιη σου.<br />
Αν είσαι ευγενική, πατούν σε.<br />
Αν τους απαντήσεις πίσω, απλά "μα ποια είσαι νομίζεις;"<br />
Έννεν θέμα δημόσιων υπηρεσιών μόνο. Εν παντού. Μηδέν επαγγελματισμός, μηδέν ευγένεια.<br />
Εν δέχουμαι ότι εν ούλλοι γάροι. Απλά εν βρίσκω τους υπόλοιπους.<br />
Τι πρέπει να κάμω δηλαδή για μια σωστή αντιμετώπιση; Να περιμένω να γινώ 50 να φαίνουμαι με παραπάνω κύρος; Να είμαι άσιημη; Να πιέννω με τες πυζιάμες μου; Να προσλάβω έναν macho τύπο α λα Jason Statham τζιαι να του κάμνω εξουσιοδοτήσεις να μου κάμνει τες δουλειές μου τζιαι να μεν πιέννω πούποτε;Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-18529522313657535182016-01-13T18:55:00.001+02:002016-01-13T18:55:29.648+02:00CochonsΠαραδέχουμαι ότι έχω χάσει επαφή τζιαι είμαι εκτός πραγματικότητας.<br />
<br />
-Προφανώς εν φυσιολογικό να κάμνεις u-turn σε σταυροδρόμι τζιαι να καταλήγεις σε θέση που ανακόπτεις την κυκλοφορία -στην αντίθετη λωρίδα- τζιαι να επιμένεις ο άλλος, που θέλει να στρίψει, να μπει τζιαι τζιοίνος στην αντίθετη λωρίδα -τη σωστή δική σου- γιατί ενοχλεί σε.<br />
<br />
-Είναι επίσης αποδεκτό να παρκάρεις κάθετα τζιαι να κλείεις τρία (3) αυτοκίνητα για να κατεβείς στο φούρνο. "Ου, μα εν εσένα που έκλεισα;" Η μαννή είμαι εγώ που φεύκω τζιαι πάω σε άλλο φούρνο άμα εν έβρω να παρκάρω παρά να κλείσω κάποιον.<br />
<br />
-Να μεν αναφερθώ στο αυτονόητο, ότι ας πούμε είναι απαράβατο σου δικαίωμα να αλλάσσεις λωρίδα στο δρόμο χωρίς φλας τζιαι να περιμένεις ο άλλος δίπλα σου να μυρίσει τα νύσια του τζιαι να σου κάμει τόπο . Ουαί και αλίμονο αν δεν τον πάρεις χαπάρι.<br />
<br />
-Κατανοητό βέβαια είναι τζιαι το να κυκλοφορείς εδώ τζιαι δύο (2) χρόνια με πινακίδες αυτοκινήτου που λαλούν "Δοκιμή" τζιαι να μεν πληρώνεις προφανώς άδειες κυκλοφορίας κλπ.<br />
<br />
-Λογικότατον επίσης είναι να παρκάρεις απέναντι που την είσοδο/έξοδο parking πολυκατοικιών. Τι σημαίνει εν χωρεί τον άλλον να φκει ή να μπει; Ιδιοτροπίες.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-65267160812507366062016-01-04T22:06:00.000+02:002016-01-04T22:06:56.011+02:00To Hulk or not to HulkΈσιει αθρώπους που λαλούν ότι φακκούν τους τα κυπριακά τζιαι εν πρέπει να τα μιλούμε γιατί "έννεν καλά να μάθουν τα μωρά να λαλούν 'τσιλλώ' αλλά 'πατώ' " τζιαι ότι "έννεν σωστό να χρησιμοποιούνται στην τηλεόραση" γιατί φαινούμαστεν αγροίκοι.<br />
Ναι, εν για τούτο που φαινούμαστεν αγροίκοι.<br />
Αν τα δουν τζιαι γραμμένα υποψιάζουμε ότι εννα τους πιάσει αναφυλαξία.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-64022646870276277472015-12-30T17:28:00.000+02:002015-12-30T17:28:03.997+02:00FlourI hate birthdays and Christmas for the same reason. I feel the need to set my resolutions for the following year. Yeah, I know, it's mainly a New Year's thing but I do seem to feel the same stress on my birthday.<br />
<br />
There is something wrong with my laptop's speakers -there's this annoying static sound- so I can't watch any of the series I wanted to watch during the holidays.<br />
I also haven't still made the brookies I bought all the ingredients for. It's a combination of brownies and cookies. I'm sure it sounded more appealing when I first read it.<br />
<br />
So, basically there's nothing wrong with Christmas. If you are a housewife and/or have a child and your house smells like freshly baked cookies or brookies or whatever.<br />
So. I first need to have a child and then bake the cookies.<br />
Inescapable. That's what resolutions are.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-57512882382450177262015-12-30T16:04:00.001+02:002015-12-30T16:04:44.275+02:0001I'm one of you now.<br />
I lie and cheat and hide.<br />
I'm visibly invisible.<br />
Subscriber to the sect.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-48568597511497864312015-07-01T21:40:00.000+03:002015-07-01T21:41:23.359+03:00Three (3)<span style="line-height: 20.7000007629395px;">I keep them in boxes, medium-sized, like shoes boxes. Each one is carefully decorated with some kind of colourful wallpaper. The ones at eye level are white with green polka dots. The containers of each box go under careful scrutiny to ascertain they are categorised appropriately. And then carefully placed in the custom-made box-case. Each box is full. No space left. But every now and then something new comes around and makes me go insane for there is no empty box and no available place in my box-case. So I tie myself up let it all out. </span>Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-63122368516356768082015-06-03T11:28:00.000+03:002015-06-03T11:28:19.198+03:00Cyclops<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">I catch myself observing young couples with
children and wondering: <i>Do they seem
happy? Do they seem like they’re having sex?</i> Obviously, they’ve had some in
order to have children. I look at their posture, trying to figure out their
body language, how they look at each other. That’s it? Have they fulfilled
their lives now? Do they exchange loving looks? Or just bored ones. Have the women
become fat and ugly? And what about the men; do they stare at me? Do they give
me weird looks? For reasons I haven’t yet realised it seems that I attract married
men. I suppose they don’t get laid enough. Or they’ve become bored of their wives
or fed up with their family life. And what about the other ones. People I didn’t
know had kids and suddenly I see them walking along holding hands with their
little creatures. They’re parents? Wow. I didn’t see that coming. Now they’re
just, well, ordinary people who wanted to have a family. It is utterly strange
how creatures created out of sex and passion can actually destroy these. I must
have read this somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-79194154462803616852015-05-31T22:28:00.001+03:002015-05-31T22:28:58.065+03:00Arachnids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/qzq22P6wqWA/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qzq22P6wqWA?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-29054694547423744692014-07-18T23:04:00.002+03:002014-07-18T23:04:59.100+03:00BeastTaste of your drug.<br />
Sip of my drink.<br />
A knife. A gun. A rocket.<br />
<br />
Don't let the beast sate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/VvKjpGP6P5Y?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-29337964289844479052014-07-02T16:02:00.000+03:002014-07-02T16:02:28.341+03:00Poultry- Don't expect me to care about the fact that you think I'm a wasted slut. After all you're just an arrogant dick.<br />
<br />
- Everything seems so stupid when picturing things in still images.<br />
<br />
- I haven't yet had a decent ice cream. Wait, not even a crappy one. For some reason, this summer, the idea of it is only within a picture of a couple walking by the beach with ice creams in their hands. And a balloon.<br />
<br />
- Hooray for the World Cup. The only thing that kept me going until the summer.Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274590286193754814.post-13640122488326293342014-06-19T09:43:00.003+03:002014-06-19T09:43:57.982+03:00I shall<i>Τζείνον που μπαίνει τζι εν λαλεί με γειa σου με καλώς τον</i><br />
<i>στο παναύριν έπαρτον τζι' όσα σου δώκουν, δως τον</i><br />
<i>Τζιαι τζείνον που τον σιερετάς τζιαι εν σου πολοάται</i><br />
<i>στο παναύριν χάριστον αν δεις πως εν πουλιέται.</i>Δρακουλίναhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14045700204179194652noreply@blogger.com1