A piece of decoration in a black and white world

I was speaking to a friend yesterday who confessed to me that very often she feels like a piece of decoration in the world. We spoke about it then regarding how maybe it’s not that bad to be a piece of decoration after all. She asked me to write something about it, so here goes:

You go out into the world hoping you can perfectly blend in with the rest of the people and suddenly you are confronted by a group of people who, out of love, say you’re too colorful for the world. Too glittery, too something that makes you look more like a clown than a friend… too out of place. Like a piece of decoration someone forgot to take off when they painted the world black and white. And you live the rest of your life hating decorations because that’s what you’ve been asked to do.

But, dear friend, if you’re the only piece of decoration left on Earth, I’ll love you a little bit more because you’re the one that colors my world when everyone else tries to take away the glow in it. I’ll swear to be the proudest of your ‘absurdity’ because it isn’t absurd to me at all. You chose to shine, and to shine in such a dull place takes the courage everyone else lacks. Your colors baffle me but I’m fascinated by them.

They all say you’re a piece of wrongly woven art but take a second to imagine all the broken pieces of art coming together. The forgotten pieces of decorations, all the love lost in vain because they were told to hate decorations and that they looked like decorations themselves. Imagine the world lighting up when we finally find the inspiration we lost and the love we were taught not to remember? Imagine you, me and the rest of the world putting up a firework display to complete the masterpiece we were destined to make…

Maybe, after all, we do have something that’s different from everyone else… maybe you’ve got something they don’t? A little bit of glitter, or a shine that the stars sprinkled on you alone? And yet you let them call you the weird one. Just because you’ve been taught not tor to judge anyone… and in doing so you’ve judged yourself terribly wrong.

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2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,000 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 17 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

About Celebrations – Christmas Decorations in Tbilisi

Georgia About

Tbilisi celebrates Christmas in style, adorning its streets and parks with beautiful illuminated decorations.

Christmas lights in Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi Christmas lights in Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi

Most Georgians celebrate Christmas according to Orthodox tradition on January 7, but the street Christmas fairs and celebration events start earlier in December.

Christmas tree in front of the old Parliament building in Tbilisi Christmas tree in front of the old Parliament building in Tbilisi

Christmas lights on the old Parliament building in Tbilisi Christmas lights on the old Parliament building in Tbilisi

The lighting of the main New Year Tree usually takes place on December 25 at the Old Parliament building on the Rustaveli Ave. in Tbilisi.

Christmas tree in front of the old Parliament building in Tbilisi Christmas tree in front of the old Parliament building in Tbilisi

Christmas lights in Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi Christmas lights in Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi

The Freedom Monument decorated with Christmas lights The Freedom Monument decorated with Christmas lights

Christmas decoration near the old Parliament building in Tbilisi Christmas decoration near the old Parliament building in Tbilisi

Christmas snowman in Rike Park in Tbilisi Christmas snowman in Rike Park in Tbilisi

Christmas tree decorations in Europe Square in Tbilisi Christmas tree decorations in Europe Square in Tbilisi

Christmas angels in Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi Christmas angels in Rustaveli Avenue in Tbilisi

The Georgian equivalent of “Santa Claus” is…

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Stranger

I wonder if this time you’d read through. I wonder if you even remember…

I met you as a stranger, and for a few hours I thought you were an illusion… No, not the beautiful kind; the scary kind. I was scared. I don’t know if you could read it on my face like you can read it in my words like you do now that I wasn’t comfortable. I was trying not to speak to you and that was all you were trying to do. You never took the time or effort to introduce yourself to me, and I didn’t ask for it. We didn’t need introductions… but somehow though, we did. To prove ourselves less of jerks than we thought of each other. In a strange way one day you asked me a question that to this day I don’t think you know. You asked me if I was real, and that was your opening line of a casual conversation. I said I am and you didn’t ask again. You just knew the truth in the statement. Where we began all those years ago and where we are right now aren’t all that different. In a virtual space between you and me, separated by a few screens and names we learnt from each other… we stare at each other, the faces made of words that sometimes we keep from saying. We’re somewhere stories and endings matter more to us than we say they do, somewhere one of us was curious and the other impressed. We’ve got a long way to go, but I’m not planning on moving a step away from where we are right now.

Choice

After a conversation that baffled me, I wrote this.

In those hours between dusk and dawn are the silent whispers of the wounded and the unheard cries of the dying.I was asked to make a choice, and it seemed fair until I realized that choices come at a price. This time though, I’ve seen too much of the truth to avoid the choice… but somewhere deep inside I know that lies give me more comfort than the truth ever will. And now I’m immersing myself in a choice of nothingness, because I was told that nothingness has no existence of its own. Papers towers made of words of love, of life, of reactions and equations, of lines of poetry and the human body pile up around me but there are so many other lines that no one reads between. Between, around or through. Because in every one of us is a “we”that we don’t speak of, and in every one of our story is a part where love and betrayal played hand-in-hand even though love comes in all sorts of definitions and we only choose to show some. I was told that looking at the mirror never shows the true self because it’s only just a reflection. And reflections are never the same. Nothing in the world, ever, is the same. And I know this because someone said “it’s a round world, with different people on it.” I made the choice to let you see what those whose names I don’t know usually do because it doesn’t have to be the same anymore. For a change, I chose to choose today and even though my life is just another story and I don’t know the ending yet, I’m writing it… because if the ending’s worth it, the beginning could change and there may be no story at all. I’m writing the story before it turns out that there was no story to tell at all. I’m imagining nothingness before I’d be asked to forget it again. I’m talking to you before I go back on my choices…
I’m watching the life of someone I knew flash past me, and I’m thinking how none of this mattered to me before it stopped doing so to you.

Happy Birthday ^.^

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Hey Mushroom!

It was a tragic story that made us friends and even though you freaked me out a little (and a lot more!) by being inhumanely nice to me, you proved yourself un-creepy (or at least less creepy than me! :P) eventually. I’m so glad I know you because you’ve always found ways to make me smile throughout this year. We’ve never actually had a proper conversation, because, like we have been told, I (or you -_-) always “run away” but somehow the two of us find incredibly nice things to talk about online (like mushrooms and frogs :P)… I’d write this and give you a letter but sadly I have a feeling it’d be another awkward meeting where I say something like “Nice to meet you… Not really” 😛 Anyway, we should hang out sometime… with or without biriyani 😉

And because you’re inspirational and because you say I’m inspirational and that I know what’s going through your mind. Because you trust me and believe in me, and compliment me. Because you say you’d be there for me even when I’m old and cranky, calling me a frog… Because you say you’re glad I came to Tbilisi cos you got to know me, and because you say I’m one of the “nicest” person you know (and because you sometimes lie :P). Because you have an affinity to exploding water heaters and you promised to cook for me fried mushroom to drink with hot chocolate and because you’re the only Zeena Mushroom HK I’ll ever meet, I’m hoping you have the birthday you truly deserve. And that… is the best. Cos you are too!

Your Echoes

Because there’s always going to be a layer of dust settled on top of all the words you’ll ever speak. All I’ll hear are muffled cries of you drowning, drenched more in tears than in the water that will sooner or later take you down. And I’ll try to listen to you and I’ll realize you’re drowning but I can’t say from here what exactly you’re saying… because there’s only so much I can deduce from the of the past that rattle inside my heart and there’s so much more I’ll never know. The mist covers your body from mine so that I know you’re close enough but you’ll never be that much closer that you need to be. Since walls can be broken down and shield can fall apart, I’ve built my defense using words that you’ll never hear because my words will never be loud enough for you. You’ll scream words of love at me and I’ll smile because I want you to know I still hear you. But I won’t say anything more, afraid you’d hear me too. Along the road, you told me once that you really don’t care about anything I’ve got to say but secretly I sensed the sarcasm you wanted me not to know. You cared. It really did matter to you… but you pretended like it didn’t because you, like me, are afraid. You’re afraid of everything you echoes  may not hear and everything you would. I looked at you and you looked away because you knew you could paint a smile on your face but your eyes always betrayed you.. because I’ve seen them shine and I’ve seen them dry and I know the difference when you lie to me. Still, though, you never said I was deceiving you or that my heart was breaking yours. You said you appreciated my space, because you did too. You wanted to know more, but you never asked. You wanted to be heard, but you never spoke. You wanted to be there, but you never moved from where you were. You were afraid and I asked you not to be… You told me again and again that you forgot.. and I know you never did. I accept your lies the way you present them because I know that’s where your deepest secrets lie. I accept the love you give me because I know that makes you smile. You’ve been living a lie all your life but I don’t blame you, cos I have been too.