Author Archives: hellothisisthesiren

Best Foot

 When I know I’m writing something that human people will read, I try to make sure it’s not complete crap.  I want those who read it to be able to take something from it, whether it’s inspiration, a laugh or just a little solace so when I moved to Los Angeles I awarded myself a sabbatical from writing.  It took me a little while to get my bearings here and every time I sat down to write, the words that came out seemed like throwing shit at a wall.

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I was having trouble finding my own comfort here, so how could I extend any to other people?  I was feeling a little bit lost, how could I shine a light for anyone else?

I just felt weird.  I couldn’t even completely understand why but I was restless.  I teetered back and forth between vulnerable and stronger than ever.  One moment I would feel so certain and “in alignment with my destiny!”                        

and others I just didn’t know.  I think it was time that I really needed and to give myself permission to experience everything I was feeling instead of trying to be so damn strong and put together all the time.  We always want to put our best foot forward, but what if my best foot hasn’t been able to get a pedicure lately and I can’t find a cute pair of shoes? 

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I think my lesson has been to become more comfortable with feeling exposed and realizing that even if it feels subpar in the moment, I can hold fast to the truth that my best foot in any given moment is just fine.  My best foot is pretty good actually and it’s not about my foot being better than anyone else’s foot, or my foot having the trendiest foot accessories, but appreciating that my best foot is a unique and wonderful snowflake of the universe.

It’s easy to appreciate a foot encased by a perfectly lit Gianmarco Lorenzi stiletto,

f92b326b135ddd06bdd0b01710a7aea7                    but sometimes it’s just as beautiful to observe the chaos.

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        The broken moments when your best foot doesn’t feel good enough

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and could use a little love.

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There’s beauty in those moments too.

So as I continue my journey and find the courage to expose myself again–good and bad, shiny or broken–I do it will a little more confidence that my best foot, however it shows up in each moment, is just great.

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The Hero

This month I’ve been exploring the idea of The Hero and as I continue to reframe my thoughts and reshape my life, this concept has been particularly fun to play with.  Everybody loves a Hero and little girls especially are taught to dream of being rescued from the whoas of life by some hooded figure that underneath looks like Christian Bale as his finest 8 pack wielding self.  This “someday my prince will come” mentality seeped into me for a time as I was shown Damsels in distress, Pretty Woman saved from hookerdom by a sexy Silver Fox and Cinderella who couldn’t even treat herself to a nice mani-pedi after all that cleaning.  If I’m sitting around waiting for a Hero or Prince Charming to find my other stiletto, what does that make me?  A VICTIM.

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The last month I’ve taken on some new challenges and as I’ve run into difficult situations the thought has come up “who do I call right now to help me with this?”  Instead of playing into the victim and frantically scanning my favorites on speed dial, I’ve started learning to be my own Hero.  Trusting myself and my inner voice–my Siren–and looking for answers and comfort there instead of in something or someone external.  When life kicks the ass of a Hero, they dig deep and get back up.  When things look hopeless, Heroes fight harder.  Being a Hero is no walk in the park, sometimes people think your costume is funny, or that because you wield great power you are a threat to them, but one thing a Hero never does is give up.

So I’ve started asking myself “Would a Hero call her friends and complain about someone that was rude?”  Not so much.  “Would a Hero worry about what other people think?”  Nah, she’d be too busy being awesome.  “Would a Hero do a happy dance when something good happens?”  Hell yeah she would.

It’s not that I save babies from runaway trains now or anything but sometimes being a Hero is as simple as getting up off the floor, drying the tears and putting on a smile.  In the same way Bruce Wayne puts on his mask and becomes Batman, it feels like I’m taking off my mask when I become The Siren.  As I shed layers of old beliefs and past conditioning, the more I take off the more I feel like myself.

So who is my Hero?  She is confident, powerful and alarmingly in touch with her own sensual radiance. She finds adventure and play in the unknown instead of fear or stress.  She never feels the need to be cruel or abuse her power, because the real show of strength is in kindness.  She is strong, intelligent and fierce.  So as I continue to befriend my inner Hero, maybe not yet, maybe not all the time, but more every day, She is me.

The Regular Girl

  This month I found myself reluctant to explore the archetype of The RegularGirl.  After some time I was finally able to talk myself around to why this seemed like an uncomfortable idea–nobody wants to be “average” or “normal!”

Initially perplexed by the idea of relating to “normal” I wrestled with the desire of wanting to understand myself and connect to other people.  Do other people identify as normal?  I never had.  I’ve been told my whole life that I am anything but and additionally, I don’t feel normal.  As I searched for the answer to my conundrum I was reminded again of the brilliant Albert Einstein.

The same way I get to choose daily whether to view life as ordinary or extraordinary, I get to choose how I view myself and others.  Perspective is a funny thing, to some people a song is just something in the backdrop, to others it’s notes and half steps and timing and sweat and tears and beauty.  To some people we are just lumps of skin waiting to die, but I prefer this perspective.

“Normal” is really quite extraordinary.  The way we have the ability to love and connect with each other and the way we interact with the world creates the tenor and flavor of not just our experience, but that of others.  Throughout the first few days I’ve spent here in Santa Barbara I’ve felt the gentle cradle of the universe channelled through the individuals all around.  From the people who gave me directions when I was wandering, to the associate that gave me a beautiful car for the price of a lemon, I’ve felt so at home in a different corner of the world because it’s all connected and so are we.  I am reminded yet again;

I am anything but normal.

RE-DEFINE or The Innocent

I love exploring different layers of myself.  I love that I can dress in white and wear no makeup and then black out my eyes, throw on some fishnets and play a completely different role.  All of these characters are me, they are just vastly different parts of me.  I’m not sure if other people have as many personas as I do, but I have always been drawn to things of great contrast and enjoyed dichotomy.  As I explore this idea of The Innocent I can’t help but think of its counterpart, The Guilty. angle and devilFor a lot of my life I have felt guilty.  Guilty of what?  I have no idea, everything and nothing.  In my minds eye I see The Innocent version of myself, I see a loving, open and kind little girl just trying to find her way in this world.  Yet before I go too far this dark side sweeps in and reminds me that I like kink, weapons and power.  Does liking these things make me evil?  Are my innate, undeniable preferences wrong?  I am answered by two voices.

Instead of choosing the Devil on the left or Jiminy Cricket on my right, as often I have been made to think I must, I find it essential that I embrace them both.  I only find rest and peace when I observe the wholeness of myself with acceptance.  I have battled with the shouldn’t and should’s and now I know that these things are not right or wrong and it is only my perception of them, so I am choosing to change my perspective.  Today, I’m re-defining The Innocent.


FullSizeRender (8)OLD DEFINITION

in·no·cent

 adjective \ˈi-nə-sənt\

: not guilty of a crime or other wrong act

: not deserving to be harmed

: lacking experience with the world and the bad things that happen in life

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NEW DEFINITION

in·no·cent

 adjective \ˈi-nə-sənt\

:vulnerable and open

:not condemnatory of self or others

:One who continually experiences the world with fresh excitement

Innocence used to be about virginity, chastity and purity, but that’s the old paradigm and we are living in a new world in every moment.  Being innocent does not mean not having experiences in life, it’s about approaching those experiences from a place that is open and honest and untainted.  It’s about refusing to become jaded no matter what the majority thinks, no matter what the news propagates, no matter how many broken hearts have ensued.  It takes a great deal of bravery and courage to remain innocent in the face of corruption, lies or fear and it takes a great deal of strength to remain vulnerable when the temptation to close off becomes overwhelming.

I will continue exploring these ideas and ways to RE-DEFINE different terms and concepts that have come to be understood as fact by many.  For example, I grew up around guns and target shooting so for me guns were never “bad,” but to the kid who experienced a school shooting there is a whole different association.  I’m not a politician so I will not discuss gun control or government policy, but neither of those vastly difference experiences make guns right or wrong.  There is power and and strength in looking outside of ones own experience of something and recognizing the choice to see it differently and that is what I am doing.  Step outside the box and RE-DEFINE perceptions, RE-DEFINE beliefs, RE-DEFINE life.

**What would you like to RE-DEFINE? Write in and tell me your thoughts and it may end up in my next post!  Just let me know if you would enjoy your name being mentioned or if you would prefer to remain anonymous**

The Archetypes

This year I will be delving into the 12 different archetypes, notably explored by Carl Jung.  Being Greek, I have always been drawn to anything mythic and I love the idea of each of us embodying these different archetypes to different degrees.  As I trek through this crazy journey that is my life, I find exploring the archetypes sheds light on some of the mysteries that are me as well as bring clarity to my interactions with others.  I am a hero, but I am also its polar opposite at times and battle with the villain inside.  Welcome to the inner workings of my mind and the long, at times dimly lit, hallways therein.  Bring a candle and leave breadcrumbs, I always do.  IMG_0112

New Year, New Socks

New Year 2015 formed from sparking digits over black backgroundI can’t quite explain how stoked I am about this year!  As 2014 came to a close I just felt like it left me so ready for what is to come and I’m excited to share some new and awesome changes and updates starting this week.  I’ll be announcing  a theme for this year on Monday, as well as adding all sorts of awesome photos, videos, music and much more.  Thank you so much for joining me in my adventures from the past year and I look forward to bringing in 2015 with you all!

Much Love,

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What Bananas Taught Me About Life

This morning as I made breakfast and began to bury little bits of banana down into my oatmeal, I had a flashback of my childhood.  I remembered how when I was a young I would 7f926656452b13c6fde87bbd73481ac7deny all my siblings attempts at help and demand that my mother be the one to stir the banana into my Cream’O’Wheat.  I smiled and enjoyed amusement at the memory of my strong willed particularity–which has no doubt survived to the present.

Instead of dismissing this memory as me being silly, demanding or childish, I saw that even as a kid I understood some key things about life.  Not that I think someone should stir banana into my cereal every morning–although let’s be honest who wouldn’t want that–but I understood the value of my preferences.  I was a tenacious little bugger and I was not about to have less than the practiced hand of my mother touch my breakfast.  There was a special detail in the way she gently pressed each banana piece under the surface and lovingly smoothed over the top that just couldn’t compare with anyone else.  There was something in that small act of her stirring banana into my breakfast cereal that made it taste like love.

youre-awesomeI think I understood so much then as a little nugget about life that now, several years later I’ve had to rediscover.  Over time I let my particularity and preference start to be dismissed as “picky,” “high maintenance” or “bitchy.”  Fortunately it was a relatively short time before I realized that no one, even that man whose gorgeously chiseled tri-ceps you could slice a tomato on, had a right to tell me who I am, what I should want or what I can do.  If I want a creamy white Mercedes SLS, by god I will have it.  I don’t want a pink one, or a black one or a cherry freaking red one, I want creamy white and that’s the one I will have.  This doesn’t make me any of the aforementioned slurs, it makes me awesome.

Our different preferences and desires are what make the world fantastic, in the words of a good friend “Do we need thousands of different types of flowers for our ‘survival’?  Hell no!  But diversity is king.”  I think we need to embrace and rediscover our childish preferences and what makes us excited.  I don’t mean like “oh it’s my birthday and so I’m taking 10 shots and getting blitzed and that makes me happy because I’m not at work and can’t remember my crummy life.”  Nah son.  I mean like truly ecstatic, smile until your face hurts, deep, core, electrified, enlivened, charged happiness

imgres-1Too many people resolve themselves to unhappy lives because they look around and see other unhappy people and think “this is it.”  Well this is not it!  It’s not over until a woman slightly above the average weight sings a very high note, or something politically correct like that.  I now regard my preferences with the highest reverence and although they may change from moment to moment, I thoroughly enjoy exploring the possibilities.  I know I want to work at something I find fulfilling.  I want to enjoy my life and bring joy to others in the process.  I want a lot of money–yeah I said it.  I want a lot of really smart and interesting friends, a jungle cat, to travel and see the world, to inspire and be inspired and someday I want a man who every once in a while, stirs the banana into my breakfast cereal. 

All I Want For Christmas

 It’s a perfect 68 degrees in Austin right now and my Christmas tree looks strangely out of place next to my T-shirt, open window and the palm tree outside of it.  After several years in Texas I guess a part of me is still not used to the holidays without snow or fully adapted to some of the changes in my life that seem to be more apparent with the season.  Still etched in my brainfamily-at-radio-christmas-1920s is the idea of a cold, white Christmas snuggled up by a fire, wearing ridiculously colored fuzzy socks and rolling my eyes at my family’s idiosyncrasies while we smile and laugh gaily over some festive drink like Bailey’s on the rocks or spiced wine.  I’m not really sure where the image in my head comes from as my holidays growing up were a vast array of different experiences, mostly not resembling that.

Some of them were lavish parties at my grandparents house involving a 12 foot table overflowing with food, over 200 people speaking blends of Turkish, Greek and English, roller skating and ping-pong in the basement and a drawer of silk nightgowns to choose from before sleepily tracing the wallpaper with my finger in “The Blue Room” as I drifted off to sleep.  Some of the holidays were spent with my immediate family exchanging glances with my sister in squirmy silence as Dad read bible passages and stated that, despite the mountain of beautifully wrapped boxes already under the tree, it may be ungodly for us to give gifts at Christmas.  Awkward.

FullSizeRender (7)I’ve spent holidays alone with my dog eating pastries and drinking wine, with strangers and in complete misery because I can’t handle one more football game, holidays with other peoples families when I wasn’t welcome with my own, holidays drunk in a bar because my boyfriend was “asleep” with a naked girl all over him and really the list goes on.  Yet every year the magic of the season washes over me and I feel excitement and hope bubbling up.  The Buddha next to my Christmas tree displays just how much I disregard convention and this year as the end of the season approached I found myself wishing for just a few things and hungry to create my own unorthodox traditions.  Instead of the fictitious picture I held in my head for so long of what Holidays should be, I allowed myself to open up to the possibilities of what they could be. 

This year I wished to be surrounded by people I love.  I wished to open just one gift without thought of what it would be, because after all the best part is unwrapping the present.  Lastly, I wished for some surprise happy event–a Christmas miracle.  Sure it’s cheesy, but cheese is delicious and when you look for the magic in life, it magically appears.  I’m taking my first trip home for Christmas in over 5 years which is sure to be an adventure and to this day being around my family is like a situation comedy that will no doubt provide some great stories!  I’mtwo-wine-glasses-christmas-fireplace-merry-christmas-hd-wallpaper looking forward to the chilly Northeast weather, to spoiling my niece and nephew that have grown like bamboo shoots, hugging my mama and bonding with my sister.  People I love?  Check.  Present?  Maybe.  Christmas miracle?  Stay tuned, there just may even be some Bailey’s on the rocks or spiced wine.

This Moment Is Your Life

work.3186256.2.flat,550x550,075,f.who-owns-those-boots-beneath-the-bed-where-my-old-boots-should-be-v-2-close-up-detailFor most my life I’ve been a bit of a loner.  Ok, more than a bit of one.  I was home-schooled and drifted in and out of friend circles never really feeling like I belonged, but as response and a survival mechanism I learned to adapt very quickly and became a sort of chameleon.  I’ve always had this feeling of “passing through” like some old cowboy in the wild west who hangs up his dusty boots for a night or two, falls in love with a parlor girl or town harlot, but then is called away on some bigger journey.

I’ve always felt a pull toward something greater.  Greater than what?  Greater than wherever I am right now.  It’s not that I’m discontent and in fact most people consider me one of the happiest people they know and I appreciate the simple things in life.  That said, I do not strive for the simple life in the sense of planting crops (which I have done) or making clothes from the cotton in my neighbors field that I bartered for milk from my goat that my five children then churned into butter and cheese to sell at the fair. 

19594My aspirations lie somewhere between the earth and the sky, gently suspended between possible and impossible and I suspect that I will always, no matter where I am in life, feel this pull for something greater, bigger and more.  I think this desire must reside in others because I see the movies that become popular and the music that floods the airwaves and all of it has the capacity to make one feel larger than life.  Yachts, black AMEX, private jets and all sorts of other material things have infiltrated music, but I think what people are really grasping onto is this sense of freedom, being limitless and true loss of inhibition.  Living for happiness as opposed to obligation and other peoples expectation–fun!  That’s why people are so in love with music and musicians, because the really amazing ones are doing it because they love it and others feel that love.  Everything is energy and permeates everything else so when someone is really showing love for something, you can’t help but feel it and respond. 

unnamedWe inherited a lot of damage and warped traditions from past generations but there comes a point where I realized the past doesn’t exist anymore.  As cliche as it might sound, right here, right now, is really all you have.  The past isn’t real.  The future doesn’t exist yet.  Right now, this table, the Champagne on my lips, the french fries with mustard on my tongue and the keys beneath my fingers, these are real.  The group of cute, nerdy foreign guys next to me, that’s real.  The exhausted waiter that is working overtime on Thanksgiving.  What do I do with this moment?  I milk it for all it’s worth.

It’s Thanksgiving, I love the holidays so much and I am so grateful for right now.  I’m not with my blood family, my evening didn’t go exactly as planned, but I just shared an authentic smile with the guy clearing my table, these fries are satisfying my inner fat kid on a level I can’t explain and somehow deep inside I’m overtaken with joy.  I’m still searching, still smiling and still soaking it all up. 

Perfection or Kismet

For a long time I felt that I was just too flawed to have a relationship.  I thought that I would figure myself out first and then after I had eradicated or repaired every last bit of damage and become wildly successful, then I would be ready and someone would magically enter my life at the exact right time and he would think “look how brilliantly flawless she is.”  Kismet.  Well a girl’s got needs so a few years ago after a casual interaction developed into more, I started to realize how exhausting it was to be flawless.  Trying to find ways to pee quieter or, god forbid go “number 2.” Trying to mentally preprogram not farting in my sleep before going to bed, making sure I was dressed just right for the occasion and that I had my “sexy panties” on, that my apartment was clean, that I woke up first in case my 4&1/2 pound Chihuahua had an accident or to use mouthwash in case he kissed me.  Making sure that I was clean shaven, that my Greek thighs hadn’t gotten out of control… someone shoot me now.  Just writing this paragraph is stressing me out.

I mean the level of neurosis was  overboard. Freud would tell me it’s childhood trauma, Christians would tell me I needed Jesus (lucky for me I “accepted” him when I was a kid.  Score, in the bag!) and Chelsea Handler would tell me I need Belvedere and a Xanax and while all of those were probably valid, I knew none of them would help me with the big problem I was facing–I was not perfect yet.  Like a turkey whose little white plastic temperature gauge hadn’t popped I wasn’t ready, but I didn’t seem to be getting any closer either.

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I tried swearing off men, that didn’t work.  I tried dating casually, that didn’t work either and then, I fell in love.  It was beautiful and magical and we made out on bridges like the movies.  I knew I wasn’t perfect yet but when I was with him it felt like I was.  Like we were so perfect together that it made up for my imperfection.  Well life got in the way for Prince Charming and I, the fairytale poofed into thin air like Cinderella’s pumpkin carriage.  There I was again, trying to figure out what it was about me that needed to change and improve to be ready for love.  Was it because my pedicure was chipped?

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Happy to come to the realization that was not the cause, I looked around and realized there were flawed people all around me in relationships.  Now most of them weren’t the type of relationships I wanted to be in and one person or both seemed to be dissatisfied with their current situation so that brought the next question; are we all just flawed people destined to be in unsatisfying, flawed relationships? 

No.  We are all perfect in our uniqueness and destined to be in the perfect relationships for us at the perfect time.  Every relationship I have had gave me exactly what I needed at the moment and either provided some type of contrast that clarified what I really wanted or granted me a hell of a story to put into my music.  I see how fortunate I am to be in my profession as it’s the only one I know of that turns heartbreak into *ching* and bling.  

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Through my explorations in dating I realized I didn’t need Prince Charming like every chick flick taught me I did, but also that I wasn’t as bat shit crazy and mangled as I thought I was.  I was just a normal girl and this is life.  There is no waiting and preparing for love or success or destiny, this is it.  Part of the beauty of our experiences is that they don’t last and perfection is what’s happening around us right now.  My life is perfect.  I am perfect.  Everything I do or do not do is perfect for me and occurring in perfect time.  Does that mean I don’t occasionally worry about things?  That I always feel good about my body and that my stomach doesn’t still jump when I get a text from a certain someone?  Hell no, but it means realizing that there are no holes in me to fill.   Like I had lived the last 5 minutes of Pinocchio and become a real girl, I felt all the pressure slip away and said to myself “I think I’m ready now.”

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