One of the traits of Uranus (in astrology, that is) is to make us change our name. My Uranus, that is in its exaltation in the sign of Scorpio, has had this effect on me - I have had nicknames in my professional/semi-professional and amateur life. Koshka - French photo model (koshka - photo model), which means "cat", Lovegoddesss, Sensuallady1, LoveWitch, Lily Was Here - my nicknames in video chats. Not to mention Avorodisa, looking so mysterious, but, in fact, just my real name reversed, spelled backwards - in some social networks (hubpages, twitter) and on the blogger, too! It took some time, also, to get used to the pronunciation of my name in French, with the last syllable stressed - Anna. Which is nothing like the Russian variant, stressed on the first syllable. And nothing like the English version, with the wide middle-mouth vowel instead of this deep back mouth one.
October 26, 2011
A woman-sensation. An expectation of the touch. The mirror with no reflexion. A castle with no ghosts. A genie of a woman. Talking over the relationships - perfumed, ephemeral, unfaithful and occasional. Just the same. A woman on the verge of despair. A woman-memory. A woman-mania. Going back to the resurrection of the old stories. Immunized against the oblivion. In quarrel, a priori. ...with the flow of time. A woman running. Chasing after the running coffee. A woman-professional in catastrophes on the scale of a separate personality. A woman with the efforts of originality, with tortures of routine, with unmanageable tenderness. A hacker-woman who broke through the shell, broke down her fingers. Breaking the access code to your indifferent body, I am dissolved like chalk in milk, like a black kitten, in the dusk... I am melting in the air, like almond smell. A woman - a loop with no insurance. Time heals. Or wounds. Effect of envy because of the dose.
October 11, 2011
30, the border age, the age of border. Life starts at 30. Real life. New perspectives open, both in emotional and external life. Somehow, the deeper I go inside myself, the larger I see around. Psychological issues. Killing inner parasites, vampires, agressors. Meditation. Layers of inner worlds. Imagination. Real landscapes of sorrow and loss, that, chewed upon, wear out their bitter taste and turn into something qualitatively different. Quiet voices inside me. The tighter you close me, the more room I get. Sensitivity. New sources of information. New resources of energy, both inside and outside.
Too many guys who behave like teenagers. Adult men, of thirty, to forty years old, around me, that behave like teens... What's wrong? Am I attractive for them? Why do I attract them? Why can't they be adult? Is it a period like this? Is there a karma in this? I remember working in a summer camp with 13 - 14 year olds. No difference. The same emotional amplitude. The same uncertainty, carefully hidden under the mask of self-assurance. The same feeling of guilt and the need of dependence on someone wise, grown-up. The same unstable search for marks, evaluations, to be oriented on. How can they be so immature?