I love you

It's as simple as that
from 1, 2, a handful of friends
as simple as a text.
as simple as three words
sent to the heart
reminded that you are
indeed loved
by many.

Hoping

the view outside of a storm's roar
reminds me of my heart's song.
a look inwardly,
a beautiful storm;
in the eyes of the beholder, that is.

Far

when i get outside
and look around
its only natural for me to hear you
in the stars.
like i can hear you looking at the same
constellations that my eyes are fixed on
though we're far and distanced
i can feel you watching the same scene im watching.
and even on the crummiest of crummy days,
the comfort of knowing that we're
split between state lines
yet conjoined through constellations
makes me feel not so far, or cold, or scared.

today, though
when i got out of my car
to look up at that night sky
i knew you weren't looking along with me.
i could feel you forgetting about the stars
and i could just feel
that we were indeed separated by state lines
and we were in fact not held together
by the star's common ground anymore.
i knew, it was only i looking up
into that blanket of constellations.
and in that moment, because i knew i was alone in my star gaze
i felt more distanced than ever.

A Yawning Sky-Shape

fireflies moaning in rhythm

a visual lullaby of a hushed season.

stamps of tiny feet on the summer blades

outside our house.

a constant nightlight,

difficult to keep a focused stare.

a quiet siren

a melody of glitter

in the quilted air.

a look right, a look left.

they're here, they're gone;

fireflies running with the night.

Fragrance

and all that remains 

is a beautiful debris,

and a song in the wind

only you and i can hear.

Two Ships

heavy hearts, heavy ships
being carried out into the opposite direction.
such a magnified, concentrated preview of time
we filled each space needed to be filled.
intrigue, questioning, admiration.
desire and love as much as another can do so
within such short notice.

you find yourself searching, searching, searching
just for someone to notice you.
for one month, you go out of your way
to lock glances in hope that they would see something
special in you.

yet life isn't meant to try so hard.
life doesn't have to put in so much effort.
love, like a contagious spell
seeks out its next victim
and catches both representatives off guard.

ready for my overwork glances to be packed away
into my suitcase,
an effortless gaze sought me out.
locked me in
as if i had no choice but to hand over my heart
only somewhat in tact.

like snowfall in this summer heat
was my expectancy for this
seemingly flawless attraction.

attraction turned into admiration
admiration into wonder
wonder into the surreal
surreal into the believable
believable into an impossible love.
the impossible love into my packed suitcase
and a goodbye that i wish i never had to remember.

heavy hearts, heavy ships
being carried in the opposite direction.

& Me

 

sea, you standing there

sea, you coming in

sea, you looking towards the moon

sea and me aren't so different you see. 

Weak

lets just say that
the greeks put way more alcohol in their mixed drinks
than the pathetic americans.
cheap-date-steph if you ask me.
its been 2 hours since the consumption of a cosmopolitan
and i think i'm good for the... week.

Fading

I love how different countries have their way of

fading their hues

when the day folds into the darkness

 

 

 

Its a small world afterall

what if i taught art overseas for a little bit...
that is something i am highly looking into.

contemplating..

Tonight:

 

These waves have a time and place for their arrival

Waves all over the world crash down louder at a chance for a witness

However, im in most awe by the ones before me

Seemingly silent, almost so

A pendulum of epiphanies

A secret to keep

Just between me and the sea

For I know she will keep quiet

Sweet Paros: a Nice Change

as long as you can imagine the taste of something like this in your mouth
while pictureing the colors and views from 'sisterhood of the traveling pants'
that was my night.

more later.
paros... is definitely for me.

For You: Look at Me

twenty-two photo-refences for twenty-two-ish explinations that need explaining. (refer to end)

pleases and thank yous.

1. 

2. 

3.

4. 

5. 

6. 

7. 

8. 

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14. 

15. 

16.

17. 

18. 

19. 

20. 

21. 

22. 

22 a. 

The Explinations:
1. this was my table top post yawning, and the coffee helped. The yawning was due to the long hour i spent writing 'acceptable to the eye' postcards for all my friends all over the map. I accompanied my daily coffee with a lovely sugared donut greek-style. though my sweet tooth is lacking, im glad i chose to partake my tastebuds in that tangy taste treat! one half was definitely enough. if you can eat a whole one of those donuts, you have a serious problem. or, im just bias.

2. finally a museum that i indulged my right-brain in. thus far, greek statues have blurred together and neolithic creations have become a distant 'huh??' in my brain. I was, however, greatly excited to go to this particular museum, for it featured modern paintings! and whats not to love about that! (especially if one paints!) this is a quote from the featured artist... and this brings me to my next point...

3. that i would like to choose to be inspired by his words. I am a writer, whether i admit it to the public or not. in my dark moments of question, or my scattered and frazzled excitement for the new, i have always had the thirst to write. however, i am also a creator. i paint. so, why have i always kept these two passions unable to embrace? solution: i am going to incorperate my poetry and writing into my artwork. Through inspiration, and literally. I know, you're on the edge of your seat, right? me too. good things are to come from this. i feel it.

4. speaking of painting, this artist greatly succeeded in teh FAUX wood that i SO DESPERATELY desired to work through this past semester. Through great trials and frustrations, i simply gave up with the faux, and i moved on (as an artist should). but, my desire for fake wood has surfaced again, and, i want to try to give it another shot. Possibly plan out the painting further than just 'winging' it. yes i know! another painting excitement.

5. This painting (diana if you're reading this) just caught my eye. I had a woman in my class, who was an extraorinary painter, since she was an oil-first-timer. Having been a water-colorist, it was intriguing to see how her brush strokes revealed her thinking of how this new paint should work. Her style was oh so very similar to this artist, in the way that she painted figures with a  crazy expression. She was very loose with her lines, and it seemed to fade and get more fluid the further down the canvas. So shawn, this is for you.

6. Rennissance painters knew fish eye photography was coming, even before sliced bread roamed the earth. Nice work 1600's!

7. Another inspiration for my furture paintings. we all know my love for the human body. How the lack of a face or profile has always seemed to draw me in, of that of the figure. To me, i see more beauty in the body because you can relate. You can look at my paintings and say 'hey, i felt that way once.' or 'that person looks beautiful, depsite possibly the way they may be feeling'. my paintings take emphasis off the face itself so the viewer can identify with the beauty of the feeling and emotion conveyed in the body/body language itself.

8. This picture shows my tackiness of posing next to a pointless statue, as well as my gradual tanning. Im excited to go to Paros in 2 days, so i can further my race change...

9. Pappou had a gut feeling that i enjoyed night scenery. And quite possibly even more that i'd enjoy seeing the Acropolis lit up at night. Well, he was right. Something about the night time, i feel at peace, yet alive. Its a beautiful thing looking out...

10. refer to #9.

11. refer #10. (ha).

12. Love exists. I love love, and though at times its hard for me to look around at people in love, it makes me feel hopeful.

13. Refer to #12. and also, yes, i creeped a little to grab these shots. But hey, im a 5'4'' paparazzi, i have to bring home the bacon somehow.

14. Atop all of athens lies a little mountain with a little church. From here, you can hardly see all the little people in their litttle smart cars down below because of the height that you are gasing from. This little church was a structure i couldnt keep my eyes off of.

15. Pappou loves Athens. Who can blame him. Sometimes i wish i were a bird so i could have this view everyday

16. Native flowers singing their native tune.

17. Where the city meets the sea. Absolutely breath-taking. In moments like those, i imagine all the people below, and where they're going. evey house has a story: a  family, some way that they came into this world. How many people are wishing they could be somewhere else? How many people are being proposed to down below? How many people are wasting time that should be spent on something more important? How many  people down below are stuck in traffic? I wonder about those people, and sometimes, i wonder, if they  think about me, atop this mountain, and what im doing.

18. You know, a tacky-pickturesque picture. This one's for you mom.

19. See that Large mass of green on the right? Looks like a mountain? Thats where i was standing today, doing all of my wonderings. Hello athens, i'm up here.

20. Another photo im sure my mom is going to ask me to frame, hense the reason i posted it.

21. Triple the fun of the one that i love with all of my heart. Pappou. Him and i did a great deal of talking about many things. About my father, about his love. About his family, my family. And all these thoughts, like a fast horror movie, came rushing through my head. The thought of unconditional love. The thought that even though my pappou is married to a crazy loon, he has loved her unconditionally for years i cant even begin tocount. It pleads the question of, why then, is there so much divorce? Boredome? Settling? The satisfaction that we can just 'find something better?' im not okay with this. I will marry who i will marry. The vows will mean something. The promise will be sworn, and i will fight for our love.

Today i realized that for the first time, i finally came off the 'stephberry' porch, and communicated with someone i love. I have problems with communication. Its my way or the highway. If you cant read what im thinking, then im going to swallow my frustration and no one will ever know. Today, though, instead of any dodging of awkward conversation, i persued a conversation t hat i knew my pappou would know something about: his wife. I love love, and i know that,  he is, of course married, so why not talk  about his love life. How did it start? Where did he take girls on dates? How did he fall in love with my grandmother? And just like that, i began to open up the gateway for more findings. for more talks. i need to stop crossing my arms, wanting to talk in 'my language', but rather find a language we're both good at , and run from there.

from this, i found out a lot about love. a lot about my grandmother, about her morals. i found out what it means to marry and to give it your all.

and inbetween all of that thinking, i simply walked in the direction of our destination, and looked around. looked around at the beautiful life that ive been given. How ive matured into a 21 year old who truly has her life not-so-figured out. thats okay for me though.

because right there in that moment, i wanted my dad to see me. to see my realizations and epiphonies. I wanted my dad to smile at me and give me the fatherly hug you're supposed to give your 21 year old baby girl. theres many moments in life when i have these snapshots of a desire for my dad. a desire to want to show him what ive done.
 "look at my paintings dad!"
"look dad, im going to be a senior in college, and i love learning"
"look dad, im going to be like you, im going to become a teacher"
"look dad, ive learned stick shift, and all the guys are jealous"
"dad. look at what i've become"

of course i want my dad to be here. of course i want him to walk me down the isle on my wedding day and i want him here for when i get home from greece, but all these things are dreams that wont ever turn into a reality for he left this world when i was still growing boobs and liking the thought of boys walking in my general direction. But, then i think of the saying "only the good die young". grantid, my dad was young for his age, 51, but for me, he is still the hero in my thoughts. i have no sour memories of him. because i was only a twelve year old girl, i had nothing wrong against my father. at times, im grateful, because when a person dies young, they stay young in memories. they never have to age, or wither or any of the bad stuff that adults become. im grateful, because, to me, he will always be the hero in my memories. theres no room for growing into a memory of 'teenager hatred' or '21-year-old-indifferent towards her dad'. none of that, just a hero in my mind. just a man that always did the right things, that always watched out for me.

22. so for this, im grateful. grateful that my memories of him shall not age with resent. A child's love for her father is incomparable, and that's not something i'm willing to let go.

22 a. so "look at me dad. i still love you, just like i did then"