Meet my Expectations

Shakespeare urges us to live with no expectations. The more your expect, the less satisfied in your relationships you appear. But is it really possible not to expect a parent to prepare surprises in return, a partner to call the moment you need him, a friend to be there for you whenever you feel like? Or what is the reason we expect people to behave in a particular way? Is it not selfish? Is it not immoral (wink, wink))?
The drama of my happy self is having too high standards and expectations from people I love. It feels good to console my ego with the idea that I expect from those I give a lot. But to be fair, I expect because I am a weak, silly young lady with a distinct inferiority complex cherished from the childhood of an abandoned by the dad kid. I need people I love to love me in return, to love my like the last day. I do not take into account they have their lives, everyday problems and personal stuff. I do not take this into consideration, because when it comes to me, I give them myself, unconditionally, rain or sun. But do they really need this all? Or do I need it?
This typical pattern in my life of finding a person to synchronize with, to devote myself to the relationship and get fucked up because People do not always have the nerves, time, eagerness to meet my expectations and they should not, actually. And then I piss off and quit. I hate myself for this. This awful moments I weep into the pillow scratching my teeth and listening to my fave songs, and in just four minutes I come back to reality.
Nobody needs to meet your expextations. And if you do something expecting an answer, is that love or lent attitude? Is it not more selfish than actually being arrogant and unresponsive ?
Too many questions...Easier said than done...
I am still going to give my best to any relationship. Feel empty. Give and expect. I cannot live otherwise. I am a fabulous, strong, independent woman who is a little, abandoned, fat kid with this stupid complexes tracing my happy self every now and then.
Please, do not meet my expctations. Let me work on it and grow, let me overcom myself, let me be stronger.

Alpha males vs Alpha females

I have been giving some thoughts to whether it is good to be an Alpha female or no. When talking on this, all my male students expressed their eagerness to assassin their Alpha type partners, and me, being a distinguished one myself.
Some years ago, after being told I was too good and too strong for the presumably #loveofmylife man, I decided to stop being Alpha, to be regular. For him. Oh yes, I tried. I tried a lot. Like being this modest, obedient thing to make males feel powerful and strong, and hack, this really is not the best feeling. The illusion of power. The phantom of obedience. The good Alpha Female rules the situation so the male feels Alpha even when he is not....Damn it. No. The proper Alpha Female does not decrease her expectations to make the man next to her feel good, she just gets the right man next to her and it originally becomes harmonic. The proper man can easily tame an Alpha woman. She will give in willingly. #trustmeiamexperienced.
I am for Alpha women. I believe in a harmonic, almost equal unity of two Alphas in a partnership.
It is not Alpha Male vs Alpha Female. It is Alpha Male feat Alpha Female.
#MyMan #My

Alpha

Don't you dare

There were people in my life who decided they did not want to stay long. Well, maybe I made the verdict for some of them.
It is difficult only for the first ten days. And then you stop wanting to share your life with them- humans are super selfish: they easily stop caring as they see the other party has given up on them.
The funny incident was coming across one person I used to be quite friends with who appeared one day saying my jokes are too "open" and she is not eager to keep the friendship with me. And I was like "OK, pervert". Honestly, I am so sure pervert are those who have a phobia from "open words and jokes and all".
Well, it did take me a while to pass through the coma of splitting up. And then, after 13 years of not dealing with her pervert friend, this lady happened to meet me at a hangout. She not only came and stood in front of me for some time giving me the chance to tell another pervert hello, but started her welcome by fighting with me, saying ...literary " What the hack are you  not dropping a hello to me? Don't you recognize me?" And I was like "Don't you dare, darling" which sounded in the form of " Oh, Are you ***?, I did not see you". (I really had not noticed and consequently recognized her, truth be told)
And this is it. Well, I smiled at her a couple of times during the day, since I had no probability of avoiding meetups. Still, I had zero feelings and emotions towards her.
And she is not alone.
I have some many great frenemies like that.
Why on Earth should people think that after sharing some life together and then being given a hard kick on (not the bottom) head we should fall into them whenever we come across, especially when more than a day has passed since the "happy incident of being sent far" happened.
Never do I cherish a wish to be rude or something, but well you all, deciding to come back into my life for #Godknowswhythislate, I have nothing more than a smile and honest wish of happiness for you. The farther the better. The broken parts never come back again. Don't you dare.

On some Faces of Intimacy

Intimacy stays. Always. Sometimes.
Today after not seeing him for some year and a half I happened to come across My Mirror Man . Well, we are constantly communicating on phone and skype, but seeing him face to face was still sort of a shock to us both. The interesting feeling was that of safety and comfort I do believe we both had, especially after seeing off the people accompanying us. Intimacy is when we look into each other's eyes for quite a long time and still feel so comfortable. Through all said and unsaid, we managed to keep it, yet none of us paying some attention to it. The look of endless devotion and straightforwardness was in our eyes. I just felt so intimate for a moment. It even scared me. His hugs so tight, and smile so only mine. For a moment it seemed to me we were back in time. Yet, it is gone.  The conclusion is that two people manage to keep intimacy of being absolutely themselves with each other, even when they break up. Probably, this gives me hope our relationship was and is based on honesty and true love.
Another moment of endless intimacy pampered me when I caught myself on sparing naughty jokes and personal care issue talks with my best friend of opposite gender. The fact we are not the same sex does make our relationship quite complicated and difficult to keep stressless, still I feel there is an ocean of intimacy between us which allows us being what we are. The conclusion is once two people commit to cherish a normal, devoted and supportive friendship, even with some skeletons in both cupboards, it is manageable to reach a very high level of intimacy.
Some unexpected intimacy stroke my father and me last evening, when ending up the second bottle of super expensive and highly appreciated wine he decided I am the only one to know all his life secrets. Not having a properly settled relationship we managed to set up the ultimate level of intimacy a father and a daughter are capable of achieving. Conclusion is blood line and genetic information push intimacy set up far better than millions of shared days.
Some intimate relationships also end up. Like the one I had with my former life and not only life teacher, with who we technically went through shitty stuff, and then, one day I found myself feeling nothing towards this person. Intimacy was not just shattered, it vanished. Conclusion is that intimacy can disappear once the relationship is endangered, not looked after and left to the fate's will.
Intimacy has many faces. Whoever gives us the chills and safety and love and tears, the important thing is

to seize the moment and enjoy the true connection with the person who has opened the door for you to appreciate, and never spare his or her valuable intimacy.

OnAir InAir

I adore how the plane takes off. Right now: it is happening. Trembling legs, ears get stuffed and heart goes up to the sky. I am an absolutely air zodiac sign (#proudtobegemini)- how I love the air and wind and planes and flights and even the turbulence zones. Do I need to mention the two-hour love affairs with occasional handsomeness!?

Taking an average of 6 planes per year is sort of a habit now. And I absolutely love this habit. I even sort of anticipate them.

It makes me reboot. It helps me get on with all.

This amazing smell of fresh sandwiches and soap. This perfect lonesomeness of a whole 200 people in the air- and yes, the nice view. People trying to get busy so that the flight passes unnoticeably boring. The beautiful flight attendants trying to please us and make us buy the expensive stuff with their charming smiles.

I always read in the plane. I always read.

Gone to read. Get some flights.

Ok. I lied. I am in my thoughts still. I have always cherished the fantasy to make an acquaintance with #myman on the plane. So that we could talk and talk (that is all about me). Well, hopefully this will happen.

Some important events in my life are connected with planes and airports. I need to overcome them all. All the truth and my fantasy. All the love and break ups ever had.Every travel had a different man I missed. This does not necessarily imply I have had , oh my God, about ten men. They did not need to be boyfriends to be missed and loved. They were and are just my muses. This one is not an exception.

 With years I have become more sensitive- more lovable, more appreciative, more caring, more bitchy( though I quite professionally conceal this). Loving less, caring more. Better said, less theory, more practice (hope, this does not sound too pervert).

I also love watching the people-the sleepers and the frightened, the tired and the readers. The readers, like my mom, well, yeah, and me.

On letting go

People come and people go,
What's the sense I'll never know.
No illusions, no despair.
You ain't mine, like I ain't yours.

People hate and people love,
Envy, jealousy and all.
Simple steps to make you shine-
You are happy, luck is mine.

Hold me close, then let me go,
Make me feel your love through all,
Arms enclosed, your heart wide open
I am sure, my eyes wide closed.

Touch is more than words do say.
Noone cares when time to pray.
You were mine, and I was yours.
Noone's others, let us go.

Thanks for all- the good, the bad,
The crazy talks and endless laughs.
Recall me once or twice or always
Keep my image in your head.

Don't get now angry, have no regrets,
Just get the message I wanna send-
Letting go is the best I can love,
Your happiness is above my control.

Չորացած տերևների մասին

Էս վերջերս սկսել եմ մեր տան բույսերը խնամել. ջրում եմ, սիրում եմ: Էսօր էլ բռնեցի ու չորացած տերևները մաքրեցի, հողի հետ խաղացի:

Պարզվեց, որ չորացած տերևների տակ փոքրիկ տերևներ ու ծիլեր կային: Մի քանիսն արդեն չորացել էին, քանի որ օդ, լույս ու հող չէին ստացել. էն չորերը ճամփեն փակել էին: Բայց հիմա, երբ մաքրեցի, մի տեսակ հպարտ դուրս եկան ու տեղավորվեցին:

Չոկոյենք էլ են սիրում տերևները մաքրել: Ուղղակի իրանք չորերը չեն սիրում: Սարթերն են սիրում: Դե մաքրելը որն ա? Ուտում են: Հող են ուտում: Խաղում են: Տերևների հետ խոսում են: Որ ասում եմ՝ խելոք տպեր են:

Էսօր ուրիշ չոր տերևներ էլ էի մաքրում: Դրանց հետ Չոկոյենք գործ չունեն: Իրանք շատ չեն հասկանում, թե տուն ով եկավ կամ ով գնաց: Կամ միգուցե հասկանում են: Չգիտեմ:

Չորացած տերևները մաքրելը լավ բան դուրս եկավ: Մեկումեջ սարթերն էլ խոնավ շորով սրբեցի, որ փոշին մաքրվի:

Չէ, բույսերից չէի խոսում: Փիլիսոփայում էի: Բայց ոչինչ չէի հնարել: