Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

I used to be a scared 'lil lamb Threatened by the horns of every ram In the pond I used to see All my flaws staring back at me I liked to blend in with the flock In a sea of sheep out on the dock In the world I did not trust And after wolves I always did lust Now I've shed this woolen coat I'm friends with ever pig, and horse, and goat I don't fear a wolf in sheep's clothing 'Cause I'm fed up with sick self-loathing I roam the meadows at sunrise No longer obsessed with my demise And in my reflection, all I see Is a lone, brave wolf staring back at me

I sometimes, probably too often, complain about my day job. The hours are too unpredictable, the pay too average, the students, at times, drilling a hole through my ears and directly into my brain with the constant questions, excuses, and regular torments. But I must realize how far I have come from my very first "real" job, which I want to recount in writing, so I remind myself that life is not all that bad right now. My first job was at a very popular Canadian movie theatre chain. I was ecstatic when I got the job. It was right before Christmas time during my senior year in high school. Back then, I didn't have to worry about paying trivial bills, and didn't mind the concept of "rent," so I planned to use 100% of my earnings on truly important necessities, such as fast fashion and Burger King whopper meals. It was a truly exciting time. On the first day of training, the boss (who seemed intimidating at the time, but I now realize more resembled a ba...

The rat race, it’s called In college it’s a plague All the rats gnawing at each other’s tails Trying to reach for the top They don’t sleep, they don’t stop Cause now it’s cool to be exhausted To boast the battle scars on our brains “Here is where I pulled 3 all nighters for an exam” “This mark here is where I failed and then cried” “There is where I went to Starbuck’s 10 times in one day and I still couldn’t get that homework done” Why are they proud of this? I’ll never know What drives the rats to mind pumping drugs But they don’t make you smarter, they Just make you dizzy and robotic and dazed The little pills make you feel less lazy So instead of going for a walk, or to church, or reading a book You can sit on your chair and digest information for days Swallow it whole, all the books, the LSATs Until you’re numbed by the excess of dictations You’re more like Google and less like a person A siphon f...

Life Goes on and on and on Even when the magic's gone With the redness of the dawn Life tells us to just get on Even when the sun has set Even when your cheeks are wet Dream of the loved ones you forget Until you wake up in a sweat Even then, when all is grey When God has ditched you for the day When autumn comes and leaves decay When you feel hopeless and you pray To a sad statue made of clay Even when you fly away Life gives you yet another day Life gives you more than you can bear More thorns and weights for you to wear You go on to the next affair To the women with golden hair That leave you hollow in despair But life goes on and gives no care Life goes on and on and on One day, my duck, you'll be a swan One day you will sleep half past dawn We all will wonder where you've gone But life will still go on and on Image source: https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Color-of-dawn-oil-painting-by-Dmitry-Sp...

What is a father? Who is our father? Our Father, capital F, who art in heaven, Our father, who's watching the game on TV, Our dad, to go on camping trips with, Roasting marshmallows at dusk Our daddy, a strong neck to hold on to When we are too weak to walk Our papa, the second face we register When we are born onto the earth Our pa, pop, Old Man, tata, head of the house A man, a person, a being with graces and faults Pa, a cluster of memories Of popsicles on the way home from school When mom wouldn't allow it Of walks to the park and the playground Of being taught how to ride a bicycle Then pa morphed to dad, and then to father Our Father, distant, almost unaware of his existence Father, to be prayed to, to be worshipped A father who is not a dad at all What is a father? Who is our father? A man who loves us unconditionally A man who sets an example for future generations A man, surrounded by family, in a warm home A man who is honoured because he deser...

There's a well known psychological phenomenon known as the "spotlight effect," which claims, basically, that people are selfish, and that no one really cares about our perceived flaws as much as we ourselves do. Every person is in the centre of his or her tiny universe, so of course, any rupture to the tranquility of one's world results in [perceived] chaos. For example, there have been studies that prove that we overestimate how much other people really care about us. In the Thomas Gilovich study, researchers asked participants to walk into a crowded lecture hall wearing an embarrassing shirt. Every participant highly overestimated the amount of people who even noticed their shirt, missing the mark by as much as 500%! What does this mean, and why am I writing about this during my 3 am blogging rambles? I guess I've been highlighted in a lot of photographs recently. As I've written in some previous posts, I'm quite self-conscious of my appearance (as man...

She’s different ‘cause she talks about politics, She’s not one of those cookie cutter chicks. ‘Cause every word that escapes her lips, Is one-of-a-kind; a witty, rare eclipse. When the sun shines upon her hair, It glows so brightly it seems to flare. Sorry to say, she’s just like everyone… Like every other girl roasting under the sun On that very same beach, cookie cutter girls Who all think they’re unique gifts to the world. All you have to do is mix sugar and dough, Then sprinkle some differences and then you’ll know Being a big girl, an adult, you see, Is not when you realize you’re bound to be free. No, growing up is knowing that you’re like everyone else, ‘Cause everyone struggles, succumbs to impulse, Everyone cares about themselves and nobody else.

Over the years, I have met many people. I have also known many others. Then there are are the few who I had befriended, and for some period of my life they were my role models, companions, and temporary acquaintances with whom I identified with. And the more people I got to know, the more I started to realize how much we are all alike. I'm not sure whether this revelation is a result of my slow progress into emotional maturity, or perhaps it is a fleeting thought. But it dawned upon me how truly messed up we all are. As a hopeless romantic and a stingy perfectionist, I have sailed through life, thus far, searching for a seedling of sanity in this raging sea of lunatics. Alas, the water would never settle. Little did I know that the water was calm all along, and the unforgiving sea was just my own reflection. I can say, without exaggerating, that I have much fewer friends now than ever before. I have become the person that I had loathed as a whiny teen- I am the person who ins...