anybody seen my baby?

daddy, what does it mean to get over you anyway? i thought it meant never being able to love a stranger as intensely as i love you, that no man would replace you. but love is also a heartbreak, a heartache. when it comes to real life, "the ties that bind" may hurt sometimes. when it's your dad and he's a decided, rational, stubborn man. when you have an independent soul, wanting to get away, wanting to stay and be loved, wanting nothing in between. and i have always wondered what the big deal is with posing another electra challenge. why not? my dad is a great guy and he has given me more than anyone else has, so it's only natural that i should have him where he is, hence the throne. until last night it suddenly occured to me. "not getting over dad" equally means never handing over the reins, the power, your heart, your confidence- to one person and one person only. no one will break your heart like that again. no one will have that much power over you a

yaptim bisiler, fena da cikmadi ama it's not making my life any easier:) umarim dilegin gerceklesir o zaman minik what’s the point in making your life easier if it’s not the life you want in the first place? the point is procrastinating any major moves until you decide on the life you want but if you don't make any moves you don't get anywhere close to your decisions therefore i try to make my life easier so i can move around as i wait for my divine inspiration to arrive That’s why we are so similar… but when you put it that way, it sounds like we are the players in a game who are settled when the score is even, and would do nothing to win (unless some other guy in their team scores the goal) that's why i decided to just make the move inspiration will find me if it's meant to be. just do the flip- the bruises are worth it. Someone walking the walk instead of just talking the talk…that’s new!!! What kind of a a ‘move’ are we talking about here?

no worries. just a huge translation project. as you get closer to the end it becomes even more life-consuming. when you're not in front of the computer (commute, basic needs etc.) you dream of rewarding yourself with worldly pleasures once you get to the end, that is, if that end ever comes. but it did. it's over. am free as proud, happy, rich bird. simdi yeni birseyler söylemek lazim.

a summer samba, an imaginary waltz to 'until' or 'love will come through', happy days at pupa's, the summer's moves and the summer's tunes, a boat touring the bosphorus, cleavage (that's sexy), luggage (that's heavy), college (that's another story), imitation, learning HOW to dance, and finally, DANCING.

tried to think- that love's not around, still it's uncomfortably near.

at the age of fourteen i used to daydream that Bryan Adams was my lover and that he had written several songs for me, including please forgive me . this one was my favorite. it all started out with the movie Robin Hood , which i'm sure was a cruel plot to make us 13 year-old boys and girls utterly and dreamily fall into this magical trap grown-ups called love, as after witnessing the love between Robin of Locksley and Marian , coupled with the song everything i do, i do it for you , i threw myself out there in the quest for that very feeling. i developed a crush on classmate onur gun, and Bryan Adams was one of his favorites, he had the album waking up the neighbors . everything i do was the only song i could stand in that album, although i told onur i listened to and liked it all. but then Bryan Adams came up with please forgive me and it was the end of an era for me. or the beginning: Bryan Adams was my lover and he wrote all those songs for me. it wasn't about Robin and

"How am I to get in?" asked Alice again, in a louder tone. " Are you to get in at all?" said the Footman. "That's the first question you know."

i'm listening to imogen heap's new single -or a song of hers that's new to me- 'speeding cars'. i just got home, and my weekend was perfectly fine, thank you. especially, the sunday breakfast. i wonder if there's anything that can replace the peacefulness in the combination of those ordinary ingredients of my breakfast- tomatoes, cheese, olive oil, whole grain bread, honey. and here's me smiling on a sunday of 2 years ago. something in my face is different now. oh, and the pictures behind. well there's one of my dad skiing, one of marlon brando, mini me kissing grandparents on cheeks, me on the stage, us by the bosphorus, us in fethiye, and some more. i sometimes wake up in the morning and stare at them, each time wondering who i was as a child. sometimes i ignore their presence, like all the things we own and see everyday. the stimulus fading out through repetitive exposure. we always sacrifice the excitement of the first-time to arrive at the lazy calm

i'm always very tired on mondays. can't get over it.

Enough for archive-digging, right? I have my journalistic duties to write on, write regularly. But then does that mean I have to think and feel regularly? So as to draw from an internal well of thought and emotion? Well, of course I think and feel all the time. (imagine I was able to record my conscious mind minute by minute, how contradictory would that be. and who would have the time to decypher it and read it?) It's just a matter of how good the material is, to write, to let others know. And look what I found: "The most sublime creation of modern times is the ideal woman of the average man. She is a migratory bird, a sort of movable feast as it were." This is from an article entitled 'The Ideal Woman', in the Bismarck Tribune of 1882. (Don't ask me how I found it. I have my sources.) It's funny to think that 120 years ago, people called the times they were living in, 'modern times'. And there was an 'ideal woman', brought on by these mo

Yaz aksamustulerini en guzel hangi mekanlarda yakalayabilirsiniz: - Bogazici Universitesi Ucaksavar Sahasi : Yurursun, kosarsin, sonra cimenlerde yer hareketleri yapar, uzanir gokyuzune bakarsin (sonra donup gozune en yakın cimlerin ne kadar buyuk gorundugune) ve butun bunlarin arkasindaki fon serin ruzgarlar ilik gunesin karisimidir. Her gun ayni saatte fiskiyeleri acarlar. Yururken yuzune kucuk kucuk su damlaciklari gelir ve bu dunyada insani en cok mutlulukla gulumseten seylerden biridir. - Bogazici Universitesi Guney Kampus : Cimlerde tek tuk insanlar kalmistir. Butun gun gunesin altinda yatmaktan yorulmussundur. Bebek'e inmeye karar verip kendini ruzgara karsi yokus asagi sallarsin. Sonra Bebek'te hala isildayan denizle karsilasirsin. Eger hava karardiktan sonra okuldan yukari cikiyorsan, yolda atesbocekleriyle karsilasabilirsin. - Fethiye, Calis plaji : Tuzlusundur ve gunes daha az yaktikca tuzlu olmak daha guzel bir hal alir. iyice yandigindan emin olmak istersin. Denize

Bu da bir yaz gecesi. Müzik, balkonda sigara, serinlik, isiklar. Geride birsuru yaz gecesi kaldi. 'Rooftop'lardan discman ve kucuk hoparlorlerle sehri seyrettigimiz; cok, cok guzel hissederek car cemetery'e giden koseleri dondugumuz; balkonda caz dinledigimiz ve iceride dansettigimiz; eve gelip kendimizi yataga attigimiz; tam ayrilirken aglamaya basladigimiz; sirf gitarist oldugu icin gitaristi tavlamaya calistigimiz birsuru gece vardi. Simdi hicbiri yok, tamamen kayip. Beni gecmise baglayan butun o ince gumusi iplerin koptugunu hissediyorum, ve iste boyle bir yaz gecesinde, odamda tek basima chet baker dinlerken o kopuk ipleri bile, sanki , goruyorum. Bazen geri de gelebilir, evet gelebilir, Fethiye'de bir aksamustu cok yogun bir nemin icinde yurudugumu hissedebilirim, hatta o nemi bile yanaklarimda ve burnumda hissedebilirim, ama tuhaf bir sekilde, bu ozlemek gibi degil de dun gece gordugum ruyanin gun icinde geri gelmesi gibi birsey. net ama transparan. (fragrance to

have to start getting ready for the jazz vocal competition. haven't picked out my songs yet. am thinking of angel eyes and alone together. am thinking of bilal to help me with the recording. but it won't be so easy. sure enough i'll take ages to pick out my songs, will record on the last minute. looking forward to summer, italy, dreams, colors, etc. this huge pile of translation material heaped up on top of me as well, which is not made easier by the fact that i'm sick, and therefore all i want to do is lay down, sleep, sneeze. am still not tired of passing by hotic every morning, smiling at the mehmet gunsur poster on the window, then being embarrassed at my silliness. have to get well soon.

If I caught the world in a bottle And everything was still beneath the moon Without your love would it shine for me? If I was smart as Aristotle And understood the rings around the moon What would it all matter if you loved me? Here in your arms where the world is impossibly still With a million dreams to fulfill And a matter of moments until the dancing ends Here in your arms when everything seems to be clear Not a solitary thing would I fear Except when this moment comes near the dancing's end If I caught the world in an hourglass Saddled up the moon so we could ride Until the stars grew dim, u ntil... One day you’ll meet a stranger And all the noise is silenced in the room You’ll feel that you're close to some mystery In the moonlight and everything shatters You feel as if you’ve known her all your life The world’s oldest lesson in history Here in your arms where the world is impossibly still With a million dreams to fulfill And a matter of moments until the dancing ends Her

Live on, survive, for the earth gives forth wonders. It may swallow your heart, but the wonders keep on coming. You stand before them bareheaded, shriven. What is expected of you is attention. -salman rushdie, the ground beneath her feet

bazen de sadece normal bir insan olmak istiyorum. alan ve veren, kabul eden bir insan ama olamıyorum.

geçiyor çünkü zaman ve o kadar çok ki senin için söylemek istediklerim çünkü geçiyor zaman ve kadar az ki senin için söylediklerim

with music of course. and that's all i am.

yesterday, music in my ear, i was walking by the sea, and the song was; yesterday when I was young/so many drinking songs were waiting to be sung/so many wayward pleasures lay in store for me/and so much pain my eyes refused to see yes, indeed. spring is all around. one can feel it 'body and soul'. heartbeat that wasn't there before, came in with all its belongings, and waiting, asking for permission to settle. silly friends drinking, and me accompanying them, not having the best time but not wanting to get out of there. sometimes just being there is enough. history and chemistry take care of it. evren's packing for italy. it's like watching a falling star, watching him glide across. i loved having him in my sky, i loved looking up to see it shine, guide me with understanding and love, whenever i asked for it. but maybe there's another sky he can shine brighter through. shouldn't get too sentimental about it though. goodbye dear, i'll see you in milano t

remembered how listening to esthero makes one feel. breath from another spins on the stereo and words and melodies seep into the room as i read a book at night or do yoga in the sun. "and i wanna live in the passenger seat of a car/we could drive around all night/we wouldn't have to go too far/just look at the stars/baby we could be stars" she sings, and i usually feel it somewhere close to my stomach. "this ride is far too long to travel alone", isn't it?

We are not going in circles, we are going upwards. The path is a spiral; we have already climbed many steps. -Hermann Hesse, Siddharta

this is a long overdue piece. something i should have written years ago. (but growing up helps. helps put things and people in perspective. and perspective is good. it sets the stage for our personal history, a blockbuster play performed at the back of our heads, over and over again.) but this isn't about perspective. nor personal history. but they too, play their roles. this is about marji and the summer of 99. (baris, help me out here will ya?) thinking about those days feels like looking back at ancient history right now: a summer night -how did i fall into that summer night? i was in summer school. i had deliberately failed calculus. i was confused- spontaneity, some music, new people, from new york?, sure whatever, i'll just bring down my guitar. that's all it took. and then i found myself at on the roof of superdorm (accompanied by peaches and yogurt and a discman, speakers and U2)- at marji's room taking chances at doing our readings and talking, talking, talk

...skimming over the surface of life, never really drilling down to the core...