what is said and what is done

you can’t trust a stranger with your truth

you get fed up of speaking so much

and listening to so little. you can ask

a question and it turns into an accusation.

you can guess his name, but he changes

the letters on you. you can tell him

i love you

he’ll stare at you

as if you should not have said that

and when you turn your back

he’ll respond

i love you

years later, and you will wonder

does he even mean it

is he saying that to shut me up?

you can love him

so much the ache keeps you up at night.

you can stare at his photo all you want

but his sunglasses are always on

he won’t look you in the eye,

he won’t fight for you, he won’t

make you pick. he wants you

sitting tight, never asking

where he goes, or why he only

shows you what he wants

you to know. he is happy

not having all of you.

he only wants you for an hour

not eight.

don’t take it personal

he told you so

but he refuse to listen

when you should.

it’s fine now, after seven years

you finally realized

he has been telling you

the truth all along

you just didn’t pay attention.

making my lists before dawn

even if it looks as if I am living my life

I am always writing in my head

about the time my hydrangeas stopped blooming and turned green

that time I waited inside the Met looking at the Greek statues and you never showed up

going to the top of Tokyo and almost barfing

your manicured hands on my pre-teen skin

the apartment number I lost my virginity in

picking you up after a meeting and having a latte on Chabanel street

Crying in a bathroom with blood on my thighs

confessing to a tombstone

never going to church except for weddings and funerals

loving you more than you ever will

expecting too much from nothing

making lists of dog bones, tablecloths and mouthwash

and still you somehow squirmed yourself into my words again

without ever trying.

black coffee and philosophy

My black coffee is warm, the sun is peeking.

It said 7:02. I don’t understand

how phones can answer most of my questions

except the philosophical ones of how you can

be one person with two eyes

and another with an eye in the middle. It seems

most men are like this, it’s not a surprise.

I learned it from young, but the hope keeps

rising like your hardness. I wished I never

saw you now. I wished I never knew you now.

I thought you were someone else, excuse me.

I thought you spoke my language, you never

did. You researched me, googled me, and

made my name too large in print. It’s just a

name. I’m no one special. You’re the radiohead

song.

I think I see you everywhere, but

the truth is, all these thoughts are pointless.

My coffee is still warm and my libido

is still alive. I’m baking lemon cakes

now, I’m wearing no underwear.

I’m mentally ill now, I’m going crazy.

Aren’t you happy for me? I may even

try to kill myself for you. Wouldn’t

you love to have a trophy of all

of us? Lined up and direct

in reality

telling you how we are all so crazy,

so nuts–

to for have fallen for you.

don’t bother

to call me, I blocked your number,

don’t bother to search for me, I left your city,

don’t bother to want me, move onto the one from Ottawa,

she’s closer to home. Don’t bother to create new blogs

to scare me, it only makes me think you’re insane.

Don’t bother to come here, my city is dead.

Don’t bother to pretend, I see through your

disguise. Don’t bother to text me, I delete

and forget. Don’t bother to read me, it’s old

trauma news. you need a new fix, a new

supply and I’m so cold now. it’s like i’m

dead, i’m not even breathing. you knew

me once, don’t bother to bring up the past,

i’ve dug a whole in the train tracks.

isn’t it better this way? i can read books

i can leave my phone under a car seat

i can stop caring, looking, being your drug

you so easily replace me, from the one one before,

after, and now. it’s the present. you better

make your move, message her, tell her

all the lies, trap her, entice her, do

your dirty deeds, it’s the only way. i can’t wait

to be forgotten. please forget me.

don’t bother to find me. i’m in a new life.

Masks

everyone is wearing them now

before this pandemic we wouldn’t even know

the truth from the lies

how lovers should understand more

how lovers should never be bored

with each other. with their skin

yet here we are in masks worn thin

and we have not even left the house.

You’re on my mind, like a song that plays

a guitar that keeps bleeding.

a flower constantly blooming

all the impossible events

like skies that cry

words that matter.

You know what I mean

when I don’t mean it.

Yet you make me feel like a coccoon

stuck in one phase

or a glass butterfly

that never changes;

a gift from my birthday

you never wrapped up.

You should have done all the things

you meant to do.

not merely talk about them

drunk one night

that doesn’t count.

Release Day of A BOOK OF CHRISSYISMS

I’m 50 today and what better way to celebrate than releasing my book…

 

ebook CHRISSYISMS (1)

A Book of Chrissyisms portrays Christina Strigas’s inner perspectives; explaining her viral quotes, popular poems, and an evolving outlook on life. Based off of reader commentary, journal entries, social media, and life, Christina depicts what it all means: being a writer, a mother, a friend, a confidant, a mentor, an editor, a teacher, and a member of society.

Part confessional and part quirk, A Book of Chrissyisms includes essays and a variety of creative writing—a fun, idiosyncratic page-turner which readers and writers can learn from, enjoy, and best of all, relate to.

Christina Strigas started working on this book for fun. She amassed some of her quotes and tweets that were popular on social media, especially on Twitter and Instagram.

It is a non-fiction book.

So many people wonder what it is like to be a writer, to be a creative person. I hope to shed some light from my perspective. The title is A Book of Chrissysisms because that is a word that best describes living in my own mind from Monday to Sunday

This book is a labor of love. In this coffee table book, I write poems, quotes, short essays, and give you my perceptions on various subjects, from public phone calls to narcissists.

M popular quotes that went viral on Twitter are all included in this book. I try to explain in a philosophical and psychological way what has helped me in her path. Creativity and blocking off people who harm you are one of the paths to self-healing. From my own experience and life, as a poet, writer, woman, and mother, I open up my eyes to the multi-dimensional mind inside all of us.

If you love poetry, quotes, and essays, this is a fun easy read for you to delve into and read over and over again, to pass along to a friend and to keep on your coffee table.

 

Thank you for being here and supporting my work. I appreciate it very much.

Much love,

Chrissy

 

Click on the link to check it out:

 

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“A Book of Chrissyisms” by Christina Strigas cover reveal

I took the summer off to work on some projects. At the beginning of July, I started working on this book for fun. I was not sure when I would finish it or where I was going with it, but it somehow wrote itself. I amassed some of my quotes and tweets that were popular on social media, especially on Twitter and Instagram.

This is the cover reveal. It is a non-fiction book, based on my thoughts, poems, quotes, and essays. I hope you truly enjoy the philosophy behind the book.

So many people wonder what it is like to be a writer, to be a creative person. I hope to shed some light from my perspective. The title is A Book of Chrissysisms because that is a word that best describes living in my own mind from Monday to Sunday.

I am aiming to publish this book on my 50th birthday, in September.

Let me know what you think of the book cover.

 

Peace & Love,

Chrissy xebook CHRISSYISMS (1).jpg

 

Expectations

Expectation will ruin your life.

I wrote that because most people have these unrealistic expectations of their loved ones when they know that they have limitations. I can’t expect my husband to take out the trash when he never does. I can’t be disappointed in my book sales when I don’t promote myself like I need to. I can’t expect my friends to read my mind when I run out of restaurants upset. I hate to feel so much. At the same time, I don’t know what it’s like to feel nothing at all. Most people can’t see the cracks in the sidewalk because they are staring at their phone. I read a whold book on a plane and had time to drink. I feel that expectations should be kicked away as far away from reality as possible. Paths have a way of turning into gravel and detour signs are more prevalent now more than ever.

I am working on a book, a journal, a new life.

Chapters don’t need headings all the time.

Life needs to be unpredictable at times.

 

 

 

Nothing

In death

people don’t disappear

they brighten up and write poems

on the other side of the sky

wait for you to decipher

their lines.

They bury the flowers

you planted and eat your leftover soup

even if living with the dead was hard

their life in your hands

is as comparable

as empty hands and brick walls.