adam georgiou's blog

A little girl, ice cream covering everything below her nose, walks past a sitting me, makes eye-level eye contact, and beats me in a race to make a funny face.

Puddles. I know why they’re here, I accept their existence, and with effort I can enjoy their company, in moderation. But they’re bland, and bore easy, and I don’t care for them when they linger. Most of all, they remind me of why I can’t play outside. Puddles have their place, but it is not here, not anymore. I guess I’ll just have to wait for them to evaporate or learn to live uncomfortable in the overcast.

I’m looking out at the clouds at eye level. They remind me of some forever deep mountain, and I imagine myself skiing, or flying, or maybe just the feeling that comes with both. I like how they never end and always change. Time passes, and now I see a beach, or perhaps it’s just sand, but it never ends just the same.

Until you’re dead, you’re still alive, so what does it matter which side of the divide you ride. Not morbid, but relieving, to know you can play by whichever set of rules you choose to abide.

I step out of my procrastination and onto the road, ready to pick up the run I’ve been putting off. The moment I finally make it from the trap of my desk chair to the threshold of my front door, that same smell of summer and spring hits me all over again, and the motif of my life is reaffirmed. Immovable laziness floats away, replaced by motivation and lightness of mind. I’ve transitioned perspectives, and now I’m ready to ride. Ditching my headphones, I’m hoping to hear something I might of

I’m walking down the street, trying to clear my head before bed. It’s 2AM, and I happen to hear this crazy ass bird, lost in its own home, eerily echoing its ramblings off of the brick and concrete confusion that is the city I have just moved to. Not the town I grew up in, but close to it. Anyway, I keep walking, and my attention shifts. The sweet smells of summer have begun to descend in the form of spring, bringing with them a hybrid nostalgic excitement. A feeling so familiar you can clo

Lying nose to nose, I look into your pale, blue, bright eyes, and see them smiling at me. And I make an effort to realize that you’re a person, not just a means to satisfaction. Understanding that makes me smile, as I realize that the moment is mutual and that I am happy because you seem happy. The hand I’m holding isn’t a pawn played toward another unbuttoned fly. It’s the hand of a person, just like mine. There’s purpose, and perspective, and longing in that hand, just like in mine. And I st

They feign curiosity, but their only intent is to unrelentingly criticize with hollow arguments and offer unsolicited advice with unsubstantiated authority. They do this over and over again, permuting arbitrarily through unrelated topics until you are disoriented to the point of craving escape, or until every reserve of your patience has been exhausted, or both In the former case, where you feel the need to flee, they blame you for your lack of participation and the subsequent degradation of re

…but not just any girl. Find one who’s idealistic, fun loving, generous with her smile and laugh. A girl who’s adventurous, and contemplative, and curious. A girl who knows how to be a lady and a child and a man, too. A girl who’s smart and knows about some of the things I know about and some of the things I don’t. A girl who dances, because she needs to. A girl who remembers how to imagine, so she can remind me when I forget. (Do the same for her.) A girl whose heart explodes to

I love how no matter how many times I go through it, it’s always new. Not needing a jacket to go outside. That sweet heat smell that goes hand in hand with spring and summer. Trees being green. Thinking the ski season is, sadly, done forever. Watching the beach slowly become inviting. Remembering how much I love swimming, and surfing, and flying my kite; and thinking about how it’s been practically infinite time since I last did. It never getting dark. God, it’s all so awesome. A similar