Category: New York City life

I don’t owe you Sex- Part. 1

When sex is seen as a favor for good behavior what do you do?

I have often been placed in this predicament (as many women have) when either men I’ve gone on a date with or have been with for a certain amount of time, feel it’s their god given right to get sex just because they did something “nice” for me, or they felt I owed them. In their mind sex is some sort of reward. And by nice I am not talking about saving my life, or buying me a very expensive car, which in this case heck why not right? (just kidding!) But to those who do, more power to you.

I’ve wondered how this expectation came about. Is it their upbringing? Is it society in general? Is the prevalence of transactional and power play sexual encounters just a male mentality? In all the instances of “expected sex”, I wondered (as many women do), If I owed these men something, because that was the approach or the explanation given to me. This implied, or expected reward for good behavior sent me into a moment of self reflection. Did I invite this? Do I owe them some sort of explanation as to why I don’t want to have sex with them? Is this really being asked of me? And what allows for such an expectation?

Looking back at the events that lead to these still unanswered questions, I have yet to understand how the dynamics between men and women are formed, in allowing such expectations to exist, and why we accept living in a society that still creates them.

Case №1 — New York fall 2013

New York fall 2013. Having freshly arrived a few months earlier, I was still bouncing around from home to home and job to job. I was still insecure about my decision to drop my life in Athens, and live in a new city with absolutely zero job prospects. My surviving skills needed sharpening while sustaining myself on the very little money I had saved up. After feeling somewhat settled in and with the help of friends, I found a part time job as a dog walker for a company in Manhattan, but this was hardly enough to keep me afloat. Unlike many Greeks emigrating to the U.S I wanted no part in asking for handouts or favors; I knew full well what working with, and alongside Greek business owners could entail. Just because I was Greek, didn’t mean I cared to or wanted to immediately work in the Greek community, and despite my general rule to stay away from the insulated world of the Greek-American diaspora; I had a need to connect with “my people” and maybe find a better job suited to my education and skills.

After many inquiries and searches, I was introduced to an up and coming Greek American social coordinator, banker, and well known fixture in the Greek American community. Having spoken several times about potential job opportunities, we agreed to meet up in person, after maintaining email communication for several months.

After a pleasant dinner at a Greek restaurant in Astoria, and a somewhat general but also flirtatious conversation, he paid the bill and hailed me a cab to where I was staying. As we continued our conversation and fun banter in the backseat of a cab, he proceeded to corner me and get as close to me as possible. After trying quite a few times to kiss me, and repeating several times that we could end up at his place to fuck. I pleasantly thwarted his advances, and in the end pretty much had to push him off me with a smile. Beyond the dinner I had zero intention of sleeping with this man, and made zero allusions as such.

I got out of the cab, sent him on his merry way and pretty much knew I would never see him again. Upon arriving at my home I got a text message. “Why did you have dinner with me and let me kiss you, if you didn’t intend of having sex with me? You mislead me and that was a waste of my time.” It got me seriously thinking what exactly in my demeanor, our conversation or agreeing to go to dinner with this man gave him the idea that I was open to any kind of further contact? Did he think he was paying for sex with dinner? Or that a dinner was enough to warrant some sort of sexual favor?

This is not the first time or the last time this has occurred, and to be clear not all situations end up like this. Not all men or women for that matter are that manipulative, yet the idea of sex as a commodity never really appealed to me and certainly not as a reward for “good behavior”. I have experienced instances where, seemingly powerful people, and men in particular; like to wield their power in a sexual way and for the most part do so without repercussions. Those same people feel that sexual reward is par for the course, while blatantly stating that: “if I buy you dinner, take you out, get you a cab ride home; or do you a favor, I’m getting what I paid for, and If you don’t comply, I’m wasting precious time If you don’t deliver.” In all these instances, of sexual powerplay, I was never in a position of power. I was either broke, in some need, or seemed lesser or weaker than I actually was. This clarified in my mind what all sex, and power play games have in common.

Blatant insecurity.

Despite any unpleasant interactions I’ve experienced over the years with situations like this; I never felt I had to repay any dept or favors. My experiences did however make me think twice before accepting any further dinner invitations.

Share your story or stories of predicaments like this – I’d love to hear from men and women who might have been placed in similar (unwanted) reward sex situations. 

Take away list 2018

Not all years are a complete loss.

Ok maybe that one year where everything everywhere went to shit (enter year here _______)

I firmly believe that despite the absolute shit show this year has been politically, economically, globally, environmentally and in every other category possible; 2018

didn’t suck.

I’m further convinced that we all have a small ( very small in some cases) take away list for the year that’s about to close. Not all things turned to shit and in many ways the ones that did were a blessing in disguise.

Small gifts list of 2018

Care of Self

The discovery of taking (better) care of self. Not the “self care” cliché but real, honest quiet moments while taking time to be focused only on one person and one moment in time. me in the present moment.

We all share countless moments with other people on a daily, hourly basis in big cities, never really spending a quiet moment in silence. 2018 was the year I sought this silence more than any other time. Quiet time for self reflection and meditation.

Quality not quantity

Spending time talking to, eating with, drinking with and discussing with people in real time, one on one. The idea of sharing a moment or series of moments with a new or old friend, a loved one, or a complete stranger, without distractions or entertainment. Creating Quality time.

Learning to listen

This year taught me a lot about listening, truly listening to others. I still have a lot of work to do on that front but I’m closer than last year. By no means do I believe this lesson is over, there is far more to learn.

Trusting my instructs

This year brought me situations and people that reinforced my trust in my instincts. Red flags? Saw them. Warnings? Listened to them. Signs? Observed them. Lessons? Learned them.

Lastly, and as I’ve mentioned this in many of my past writings; The people and places I’ve visited connected me with friends who are still in my life one year later, from 1 to 35 years of creating a continuation of friendship and family. This idea of bonding and building true connection with those near and far, is constantly reinforced by the passing of time, not diminished or faded, and absolutely beautiful.

That keeps me going to the next year.

Looking forward to a lesson filled 2019.

Cheers to 2018. Now get lost.

The Art of Not Giving A Fuck


Photo by: R. Valenzuela

A small manifesto on truthfulness.

Looking back at the inception of this online writing platform 6 years ago; there was no predicting where it would take me. While reflecting upon the sixth consecutive year of writing online, I was reminded of my sixth anniversary living in New York. One absolutely undeniable thing I’ve realized about this city is :

New York doesn’t give a fuck what you think of her. (Sorry Sex and the City- New York is no boyfriend) Shes a badass, loudmouthed, Italian, Latino, black, Jewish, Irish, Dominican, African, Indian, Pakistani, Greek, Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, Lebanese, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Korean, Russian, Romanian, Chilean, Israeli, Palestinian, Ukrainian, Brazilian, Armenian, Syrian (I could go on and on) and every other American Woman.

I realized early last year; January 2018 to be exact, that speaking my truth, expressing my writing and poetry honestly and conveying my point of view without reservations, is my greatest challenge and biggest goal for the years to come. (Yes I stole a little attitude from one of my writing heroes and badass traveler, advocate, explorer and all around truth teller Mr. Anthony Bourdain). For the first time after starting this writing project; I don’t give a fuck with people think. I’ve spent countless years, (as many women do) side stepping, avoiding, cleaning up, self editing in order to fit a particular mold or idea of how I should express myself publicly or privately. I’m not trying to grab or hold anyone’s attention. If you follow my writing and care to share your point of view with me, It is welcome. If you don’t care for what I’m writing about, and think its shit, make a valid point, and give your point of view.

On January 1st 2018, at about 6 am, on a very cold bright morning; It hit me: Nothing of who I am and what I’ve done so far with my life fits any ,constructs or ideas of what a woman my age living, loving creating, and writing in 2018 should be like, look like or act like. I was never one to submit to conformity. Whenever I tried to fit in, my life would always swerve away from it, one way or another. Should have been, should have had, should have accomplished, often slaps me around from time to time.

We all go through moments where we are faced with the stories other people like to tell about us. Inevitably as we get older (not necessarily wiser as I’ve come to discover), some of us find our own true voice, allowing us to be exactly who we want and can be. Others predictably, stay stuck within the confines of an identity formed by others, society, parents, or heritage; forming an idea of themselves with personas or masks that really don’t quite fit. More still never really take the risk to flourish into something far more beautiful and unique that may not quite fit the narrative we’ve been fed.

Time has shown me that spending more time alone, with myself has given me ample opportunities to really know who I am, shed any prét a porter personalities and embrace how I want to live my life. Yet every year that closes, I spend a few moments wondering what would have been if I took a different path.

The shoulds- A list

On the eve of a new year, I narrow down the list of shoulds that apply to where someone like me should be according to society, my own made up standards, and how very famously stated in Greece, according to what “people say”.

Here’s my top 5 so I don’t go to crazy down the rabbit hole.

1. I should have had kids by now. Well to be fair I almost did, and although I do think about that possibility often, I’m thankful everyday I decided against it. It’s been a strange feeling to know I came close.

2. I should have my own business by now. I did at some point and for a good 10 years, I did run my own business as a yoga teacher and massage therapist. I’ve taken a detour so the possibility is still there.

3. I should be settled somewhere and have a beautiful home. I also had that at one point in my life, but the Greek crisis forced many of us to leave the life we knew and the home we had along with all its comforts; and find new paths in new counties. Now and for however it lasts, New York is home.

4. I should be more successful in my career and make more money. Well this is only up to my efforts so stay tuned 😉

5. I should drop everything I’m doing here in New York and move back to Greece… Well this one I left for last because it’s as complicated and simple as all the others on the list. For the simple reason that I’m not someone who likes to drop something in the middle before I’ve seen in through; staying in New York although a difficult journey, has and still does inspire me. My writing and poetry has developed over the years here, and the same would not have occurred in Athens. So I take the inspiration and wherever it takes me I’m willing to go. All the risks we take lead us somewhere magical.

On to the next chapter.

Happy New Year to all.

My confession

Photo : Zafeiris Haitidis • filmmaker

I have a confession to make

I know it’s probably late over there in your side of the universe

but I can’t let another century go by…

before I say what’s on my mind

You are my guy.

The man I know will see me at my weakest and still lift me up.

You fill my cup.

You are my rock, when I’m stuck in my own muck;

and even though you don’t know it,

I’ll probably won’t ever show it.

I love you.

I’m always there by your side when you need me.

I know it’s not easy

It’s a lot to take in.

These words coming out of me like thunder and lightning in a storm,

but I could not hold back any more

I Love you.

I dream of your happiness and I rejoice in your voice.

No no this isn’t about just that.

Even though you’re in my frequent fantasies.

No

You are a king, dressed in paupers clothing.

Pretending till you get your chance to shine.

You’re not just mine.

I would not want that for you.

You are a free spirit capable of greatness but I must confess you short changed yourself.

Put your heart up on a shelf, and forget to love yourself first.

You have that thirst for self-destruction … combustion… obstruction of…

YOU.

You invite others to step over your might, just because you’re fed up with being first in a sea of moderation.

So you might as well fuck it all up.

You gave up.

If I had a dime for every time I wanted to shake you and make you see how wonderful you are to me.

Don’t you see?

I love you.

New York- Strange Broad

Adamfu for the Wellington Court Mural Project in LIC Queens (@adamfu)

New York City- a place of legends, movies, folklore, music and art. A place for everyone and a place for those who feel out of place everywhere else. I have now lived, loved and called New York my home for six years. On November 30th 2012, I landed with a return ticket I never used, in hopes of whatever this place had to offer all others, it would offer to me.

I soon discovered that only when you’ve REALLY lived here, ( as a non native ) can you start to fathom what this city has to offer. She’s a strange broad. Unforgiving and loving at the same time. She slowly reveals her secrets and isn’t shy about telling you to “fuck off” if you get in her way. She’s brash and cruel and all for the taking… but don’t mistake her for an easy chick. 

She is a mysterious woman, not pretty, but not ugly either… She’s what the French call Jolie laide, a smart cookie who will take you places if you let her. It has taken me a very long time to understand her, (I’m still trying ). I don’t proclaim to know her… yet, but I’m starting to comprehend her ways, her whims her desires and her quirks… She’s no slouch and she reminds me of my American grandmother.

Pauline Councilman Jackson was a Single mother of two. She raised her two children (my mother Christine and my uncle Norman) on her own. She married and divorced twice, sent both her ex husbands packing. With no man in sight and with a lot of love from her community, she raised two AMAZING people. In New York I realized what determination meant. If you embrace her, truly she will give you the gifts she reserves for those who really “seize the day”. 


She is a mysterious woman, not pretty but not ugly either… a smart cookie who will take you places if you let her.

New York has become my muse. She has made me love my county more. Despite my utter distain for the politicians who have ruined Greece, forcing so many of my countrymen -and women scattered around the globe ( AGAIN). New York helped me find my voice to express my anger, my love, my disappointment, my passions, and my desires. Her erratic ways, her utter chaos, and her undeniable intensity, has fueled the artistry that lay dormant in me for quite some time.

She’s like a bubbling volcano. There are moments when this city can drive you mad. She’s relentless, driven, tireless, erratic, schizophrenic, bipolar and quite possibly insane.

BUT… she demands all of you, she will bring out all that you have, and sometimes (always) pushes you to your limits. She will drive you mad if you let her, but what she won’t do is let you be mediocre, or second rate. She demands perfection, and slaps you in the face if you’re not paying attention. 

https://media.giphy.com/media/l3V0mi0VoT2qvNLcQ/giphy.gif

She’s a greedy and needy, she’s filthy and nasty and kinky and raw. She’s never quiet, except for those chosen hours in the early morning, but even then; she has movement and shape and rhythm if you listen. She drives me nuts, but I have grown to love her despite her many flaws, and shortcomings. 

Cheers New York Fucking City. Six years, and you still draw magic on the walls. 

  • Image by Robert Valenzuela


She demands of you, all that you have and sometimes (always) pushes you to your limits.

The Pictures bellow are but a small fraction of what and who captures my attention in the city this is just a small teaser… Feel free to check all the images on my instagram @thegreekrabbit.

Thanks for reading.

Mesmerize

 
 
I am mesmerized….
 
The moment when our eyes meet mine..
seeing
that sublime snippet of time in me.
I’ts unattainable in a lab setting
You can’t repeat this shit
It’s one of a kind.
A rare find.
that sublime snippet of time.
with me…
 
Keep in mind I’m not an expert in explosions
I just walked passed my life
avoiding mines.
Each time I gaze upon your face, your embrace your lips locking on mine,
It stops time.
 
Good and Bad intertwined.
Your voice resonates on my skin like aftershocks after an earthquake
It’s a lot to take
in.
I don’t even know you and you make me feel like a queen.
 
I’m not good with roles.
This delicious assent to power from a delicate flower.
From a “nice girl” into a dirty mind one of a kind..
I’ll do anything for…you
You will adore me kind of girl
Let it all unfurl develop, envelop, uncurl girl … from this protective bubble of  life.
 
Where it’s all safe and put together
Let it fall apart and rebuilt once more…
In this brief snippet of time.
 
We are mesmerized.

​

Photo by Robert Valenzuela

Why I vote- How the U.S vote the world votes.

There is a fundamental truth that prevails in how the United States are seen by the rest of the world.

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How the US vote the world votes.

I was very aware of this reality from a very early age. I was born in Greece to an American mother and a Greek father. I’m an American by default; I didn’t become a full fledged  “American” until after our arrival here as a family in 1992, at the tail end of the first Bush administration. As a young teenager, I discovered a very different America, from the one shown to the rest of the world. The America advertised in the movies, was a completely different place, than the America we saw through its politics.

The America sold to the world is not the America lived up close.

US citizens living abroad are most aware of this dichotomy and its consequences. The US are a super power, and for as long as I’ve been able to understand the political process, they have been actively determining how the rest of the world works.

Every US president is deemed by Greek society and the media as the Planet President. He who acts so powerfully towards the rest of the world, that the rest of the world inevitably is forever aware and reminded of its place. The U.S president is seen as a supreme leader. Most Americans have no idea who the president or prime minister of other countries is; they don’t have to until its a problem for them, or their old “friends” become “enemies”.

Everyone knows who the US president is and what HE stands for. From the first moment I set foot in the US to live, I realized my unique understanding of what it means to exercise my civic duty. I exercised and continue to exercise my right to vote because I knew it was my obligation as a U.S citizen who was born and raised abroad, to cast my vote for how the US is perceived, through its international image. Local politics determined international relations, trade, war, peace and prosperity. The most chilling reality most Americans don’t see is that America’s president and Americas elections dictate how the world functions.

My resolve to vote in every election  was cemented further after the 2016 elections results, (and in previous years) I was mostly disappointed, disheartened but not at all surprised. So my vote is not a reaction to the status quo but as an affirmation that people who vote for the greater good also vote for their local good in their families, communities, friends and fellow citizens.

That’s the only way I know how to be. We all have a responsibility to have governance that is for the greater good and not only through personal growth and gain. Demos-Kratos was a fundamental building block of what we like to call a democratic society in Ancient Greece, and although America prides itself as the longest running democracy; it’s policies around the world have time and time again supported, funded and praised a very different type of governance.

The reason people opt out of the vote is that for whatever reason at least up until recently it wasn’t dire it wasn’t imperative it wasn’t necessary it doesn’t help. The people are powerless.Voting is not just a privilege it’s your obligation to show up, and make good on the pure fact that you’re a citizen of a town, a city, a country and you matter.

I voted for those who can’t, and to honor the city and town I have come to call my second home.

—

ॐ
Eleana Kouneli
 
“The naked body is no where near as scary as the naked soul.”
 
Yoga Instructor / Blogger/ Photographer

 

Random Thoughts- The Value of Money

Value and Cost.

I’ll be honest… If I won the lottery tomorrow I would quit my job, pay my family’s debt, take up art, writing, and yoga studies full-time, go to massage therapy school, learn French and Spanish again, and travel….. a lot. Last month the mega millions lottery in the U.S was one of the biggest ever recorded in lottery history, and it got me thinking about what money buys us. It purchases the opportunity to access, connects us with services not available to people without money. It buys status, and privilege. What it definitely doesn’t get us is happiness, or love or meaningful connection with other people. It’s a cliché for a reason; money can’t buy peace of mind, and we’ve all seen how that ends up time and time again.

What, truly do these pieces of paper that we’ve deemed equivalent to denominations of value actually do for us?

What does money afford us and what does it take away. I’m not talking about exorbitant amounts of money or even the mega millions jackpot, but a large amount of money for any average person.

Money for as much as it provides, allows, or gains access to; it equally separates us in so many ways.

Access to money, especially in a very expensive city like New York, can purchase time, expensive things, convenience; but never any of the things that actually matter to us.

Yet here we are all working three and four jobs, just to pay our bills. We do jobs, instead of following our calling. We work in offices punching keyboards instead of creating wealth of knowledge and understanding for each other. We save up to retire so we can travel or buy that car we always wanted. We break our health and sanity to make copious amounts of money that buys things, monetary comfort when years, decades go by and we still struggle with pain, loneliness, fear, isolation, depression, and sickness.

In the end… What would you do with a 250 million dollars?

 

hearts

The Groove on Repeat

The needle crackles as it presses upon the same tune.
With every turn you short-changed yourself.
Every weak, manipulative, broken man you could find, THAT was your prince charming.
The men who hated, who you were, what you stood for, who had zero interest in
knowing you…
those men who automatically assumed you would put up with their
broken record… the same sad song.
On repeat… like a needle stuck on a vinyl record groove.
You dug deep to find that pure unadulterated shit.
Those B sides no one else would listen to
Your move….my prince.
Flip it to the other side.
I know those girls, ladies, women well.
I cultivated them and then… ravaged them.
Prime rib with a side of, hell-bent on making you feel inadequate.
Thirsty men prey upon troubled souls, those which they helped create.
This endless supply of oppression, degradation, obsession, attention seeking
missiles;
targeting anything that seems the least bit feminine.
You’re been handed an unequal life from the start
Convinced you are worse than, lesser than, below us.
Yet….We are you. You are us.
But we’re out of touch…
Like a one hit wonder, never to be heard from again.
Stuck in the back of a track list long…
forgotten.
We don’t adore the feminine, oh that faggot I’m not him…
Self hate is a horrible thing to waste precious time on.
In order to love us you must love yourselves.
I’m not talking in clichés, this is the real thing.
Smashing the record against the wall… stop listening to that crap.
The deal with this division was someone else’s decision… marking for a collision course
to ourselves.
Look up…. that glass ceiling is covering you too.
Flip it.

​

Phantoms and Ghosts

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Picture by Robert Valenzuela (@3rd.knight)

What role do our memories play in how we hold on to people?

 

I romanticize my exes.

Even when years have passed, they cross my mind. I do this just enough so I can trick my self into thinking how I regret losing them.

 I’m surrounded by phantoms; ghosts of lovers past who I tap into every time I want to feel wounded about my crap choices in partners, lovers and men who are far from perfect in reality; yet I paint them in very different and much more favorable colors.

I’m the painter, it’s my canvas I’ll cry on it if I want to.

I’m content with how my life is right now, and after some time has passed, I’m fine with my choice to not seek any further romantic involvement, with all my failed romantic escapades. Yet… my skin feels the touch points he touched, I romanticize this imperfect and quite ridiculous person into some prince charming when he was far from it…

I clung for years to my memories of these imperfect men like little nuggets of a fairy tale gone horribly bad. 

Of course they were imperfect, not what I truly wanted or needed in my life then or now. My loneliness played tricks on me, and we all do this; I projected characteristics, reactions and romantic comedy bull shit scenarios to these toads, who adorned me with fancy words, and over the top flattery.

Rhinestone Cowboys I like to call them. You know the type of men who will pretty much say anything just to get recognition, a smile, vulnerability, and ultimately power over you. And you let them; despite all the cautionary tales, and your friends telling you he’s full of shit, and your own brain trying to avoid another collision course, because it’s inevitable you will fall for the ones who tell you what you want to hear.

When we sit down and take stock of our past failures in relationships with people who on the surface may have seemed “perfect for us”; ultimately what we lament is not the loss of these seemingly perfect people, but the loss of ourselves, in them.

We must not lose ourselves for the whims and wants of others. 

We must not lose who we are, we must not lose who we want to become, or hold back to please other peoples idea of us. As hard as that is, as challenging as it may seem, holding out for those who meet us half way or all the way for that matter are far more gratifying, appealing and beautiful.

There is no time for false narratives, bad stories and fake vulnerability. Holding on to ghosts as backward as it may seem to many, has at least helped me know what I definitely don’t want. And for many, recognizing even that; is a start to letting go of the ghosts and the phantoms of the past.