I love jazz and whiskey, not fond of lies and huskies,

Give me space, give me time, admit I'm right,

Help me grow, take it slow, crave for more,

I love jazz and whiskey, shopping and Netflix.

Somebody to die for

No, I will never die for you, Love,
I won’t cut my veins or hang up,
I won’t drown in an ocean of hate,
I won’t suffer to prove you my love.

I would rather opt for living for you, Love,
Going through life stages next to you, holding hearts,
Passing on, moving on, handling each other
Especially when rolling down, Love.

I don’t need anybody to die for, Love,
All I need is somebody to live for,
A text to reply in the morning
A cup of coffee to make for in the down.

I want you to love for a life, Love,
To hold your head in my hands and feel the weight
Of your burdens and achievements and all losts,
And still love you on for what you are.

On a good book

Helsinki Public Library Oodi, September 2011

Have you ever started reading a book, and got stuck on page 8? And no chance of moving ahead in a week. And then you decide to restart because "you are serious this time". Sometimes you attempt three or four times till you get to page 9. And then miracles happen. The book turns out to be a page turner with information you needed at that exact moment and calls you the next moment you put it down. It seems to be the only reason you wake up for, your life turns around it, you were born to get to this moment. And then you literally devour the pages and as you get closer to the end of the book you start reading slower, savouring the lines, starting to smell the pages, feeling the cover material thickness. You just try to prolong the last page turn because with this book you will finish another phase of your life- this book made you different. Now your life is divided into before and after this book. And the funny turn of events is...that you have this feeling till the next good book. How many lives do we- the readers-live?! After every good book, a new life begins, an upgraded one. Sometimes I feel I have become even taller or even heavier after "eating" or "drinking" a book - sip by sip, crumb by crumb...Sometimes dieting, sometimes "swallowing" all that's "on the table and at reach".
And there are people who have this tradition to read over breakfast - provided bitter coffee should be considered one-and this reading ritual is usually via an Ipad app or Kindle. For some reason, it is easier to hold electronic devices that hard copy books over coffee cups :-) This experience is absolutely holistic because every good book is a complete prayer to the universe and every message in the book or article seems to be guidance from above. The world stops for fifteen minutes, and then goes on again.
One smart person I know says "Writing is therapeutic", and this is only because by writing the author confesses his heart to the readers. His experience teaches us. Most often it is a win-win game. Zero sum games are for social media and TV, since good books sprinkle wisdom to all takers. And no one reader's gain is jeopardized by another's gain.

My Life Mission

The one and only goal is to live my life to the maximum, never having wasted a moment, a thought or an emotion.
I want to fulfil myself as a:

Princess Regal, Baltic Sea, September 2016

good woman, which means I am a caring and attentive individual who puts her principles in the center of her life. I try my best not to hurt anyone, not to teach when I am not asked, not to expect what people are not capable of giving. Being a good woman means first of all traking ccare of my psychological, mental and physical health. This includes not practising such unhealthy habits as consumption of  drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, overly fatty foods, low-quality sugary drinks and desserts, dough products. It also implies taking care of my health from both inside and outside (including regular walks in the open air, nourishing body with vitamins and supplements). It is important to take a proper care of personal hygiene which does not stop after regular showers, but gets to abundant and regular usage of nourishing, cleaning creams, lotions and masks. Regular health checkups and feminine function close regulations are a must.
good wife to a loving husband. This does not mean putting my beloved man in the center of my life and running in cicles around him, buyt rather constantly working on my principles to make myself tolerant, forgiving, compassionate and giving. This includes always finding time and mood to spread love, warmth and respect towards my husband and his needs.
good mother, which means raising the children so that they make all the right moves and right choices thoughout their lives.
good teacher who always finds responsibility and dignity to teach her students with love and true dedication, celebrates their achievements, and does regard teaching as her vocation.
good daughter, which means being tolerant, forgiving and loving at all times when it comes to parents ablove all the people in the world.
good friend, which means not pushing too hard on the friends I have, but still always making sure they feel how much appreciated they are. It is really important to make communication constant, and anger free.Empathy will help.

Based on previous experiences I find it super important to remind myself about being less a quitter and going further than six days with my goals, be it intermittent fasting or working with high standards. Being overly demanding towards people and myself is merely stupid and irresponsible, instead reasons of any misfortune and/or mishap should be enlighted and discussed. Communication is really important for me. I want to keep my private life private, thus not sharing with people around too much, and yet not being a dark horse and distrusting. I need not to quit any relationship, job or situation which seems complex. This is a lesson to learn and tackle not quit.

What am I made of?

We are made of the cities we have walked in and the relationships we have walked out of, the sunsets over the sea horizon we raized our glasses to and the hugs of caring friends whose shoulders we used as capstones.

We are built with the bricks of cold comments and criticism thrown at us and we are chiselled with the love and care our dearly beloved showered us with. We are cut by our disappointments and demolished with our fears and traumas.

We are glazed with the soft tunes of music that we will forever associate with intimate moments and we are washed with the alcohol our love swings have fled. We are covered with the blankets of trees om blossom and afterrain air we have inhaled in hunger.

We are described by the words we overuse and the movies that have ever made us cry, and the pair of eyes that had most control over us will define our fears and vulnerability.

We are made of the diplomas we have bought at unis for status, and the private lessons we have paid for for knowledge.

We are made of all the song lyrics we checked to sing to, and we are defined with all what we use to share our insights.

We are also described by ambitions; ours- that we gave up on, and others'- that we never believed in.

We are puzzles collected from pieces of shattered dreams and achieved goals, and unfortunately or maybe for a good reason, our missing last pieces are not always with us.

But most importantly, at least most of us are made through love and with love;-)

Լիլիթ

Ամեն ինչ ճիշտ ա միշտ լինում, Լիլիթ,
Օրինաչափ ա, պարզ ու հասարակ,
Ամեն մարդ իրա դարդն ունի, լսի,
Որ կարեկցում ես, հեշտ ա ավելի:

Ամեն սիրտ իրա թայն ունի, Լիլիթ,
Մոտիկ կամ հեռու, թաքուն կամ շիտակ,
Մենք ձևի համար չենք ապրում, հիշի,
Ուշ կամ շուտ լինի, ճիշտը կտիրի:

Մարդիկ բարի այցելուի պես կգան, կգնան,
Խմիչք, հյութ կամ ջուր,
Իսկ մենք բարմենն ենք լինելու, Լիլիթ,
Լսենք բոլորին ու գտնենք մերը:

Հիշում եմ

Հիշում եմ սիրուն երկար մատներդ,
Կլորիկ քիթդ՝ թրաշի միջից,
Կողքիդ նստել եմ, դու ղեկն ես գրկել,
Ես էս հուշերն եմ գրկել պինդ-պինդ:

Մեկ էլ հիշում եմ մեր ուշ կինոները,
Էն որ սրահում մարդ չկար, մենք էինք,
Ու նաչոները՝տաք պանրի կողքին.
Ինձ ամբողջները, քեզ՝ փշուրներից:

Ոնց էի ես պաշտում ընտրած երգերդ,
Ու որ ինձ համար միշտ դուռ էիր բացում,
Ու որ քայլում էինք, ոնց էին քեզ նայում,
Ինձ նախաձում էին, իսկ ես՝ հրճվում:

Ու ամենից շատ քո հոտն եմ հիշում,
Էն որ լվացքի փոշուն խառնվել,
Թարմ սափրած դեմքիդ հեղուկի բույրից,
Մի քիչ շամպունից, մի քիչ քո մաշկից:

Էն որ ատում էիր սիգարետները,
Վախենում իմ՝ եզրին մոտ քշելուց,
Էն որ նայում էիր ջիմում տանջվելս,
Ու տենց էլ ոչ մեկին չթողիր ինձ մոտ:

Հիշում եմ, թե ոնց մի օր (ցուրտ օր էր),
Լիքը մարդկանց մեջ հենց քեզ ռաստ եկա
Վերելակի մեջ… դեմքիդ փակեցի:
Դու ինձ երևի սա չներեցիր:

Ու հիմա, անցած արդեն ութ տարի,
Դեռ պարբերաբար զանգում ես,ստուգվում,
Ինձ ազգանունով ու սիրով դիմում,
Միշտ շնորհավորում ու միշտ ափսոսում:

You are my whiskey type of lover,
My friend and man, my true admirer,
The unavailable and unattainable,
The always willing for a meetup eagle.

You are my fast driving kind of lover,
The one who owns the money and the cars,
The man with decency, ambitions,
With no morality, just passions.

You are my blue eyed kind of looker,
The smoking pal, the poking toucher,
The physically slaving type of bold possessor,
And what is worse- I was in hunger.

You are the “let’s go dance, my life” aggressor,
Enjoying all the eyes on us at clubs.
You are the forever typing sort of answer,
You are why I smile when looking at the screens.

You were the Teddy bear that I grew out of,
The favorite pair of jeans that got worn out,
The night light I didn’t need at daytime,
Even though I was sure you were forever mine.

I was the pill you took to feel just better,
The dope of confidence, support and care.
I was the daughter, the aunt and the lover,
You called me irreplaceable. And now it’s all over.

We were vowing love and devotion and care,
Sharing songs, reading poems, but look,
Just like anyone else, we moved on and and feel fine,
We live without craving a single look.

Funny it seems now to go back in memory lane,
Read the lines, see the pics, drink the wines,
We have surpassed each other, grown out of love,
I hope your feelings are swamped, just as mine.

See you in Hell

I feel as if I’ve lived a hundred years,
It seems that I have aged though all you gave.
I now relate to sad songs poets sing
and drop a tear or two when couples split.

I feel as if there’s nothing else to wreck me,
All pass by me, and no one seems to see
how lone I feel, how deeply suicidal
my thoughts do get, how hard it is to breathe.

I feel as if I’ll never see your face,
As though my lips will fail to open up.
I feel as if a bullet penetrates and in and out
and in and out...

I feel as if I never held your heart,
It seems we never shared a drink or two,
I am forgetting how you smell and kiss,
I am stopping feeling. Will I ever miss?

I feel as if I’m done living for good,
as if all lessons learnt are understood.
I am forgetting how and where we stood.
I can’t hold on, my heart has turned to wood.

I cry to sleep, I shut my screams with clothes,
I smoke to breathe, through lungs I let you go.
You are the face that my past used to have.
I might be grateful. But still. See you in Hell.