random.

i was in the car when i heard the news on the radio that the inspectors were urged to leave iraq. since then i have even less hope that there is not going to be one more war happening in the world tomorrow.
i have no doubts that saddam hussein is a dictator that the world would be a better place without. however, history has shown that sanctions and wars make dictators stronger instead of weaker. furthermore, this is not going to be a "war against terror". i fear this is going to be a war that will create more terror, more fear, that this will be a war that will make the world less safe.
feels like time for good thoughts, prayer (if you like), meditation and continued demonstration of all kind.

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i got my new glasses on friday, and i love them. they are bold. they are me.
funnily enough, hardly anyone has noticed them so far. - seems like they look so much like me, they don't stand out as much as they do to me. which is good, i guess.

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have you looked at the moon tonight?
this side of the globe, she's round and shiny and bright in a clear sky.
and making my libido go wild, too. yeah.

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the boy is okay. he's as bad a patient as you imagine a male doc can be (just yesterday they had to saw off part of his cast because the pen he used to scratch himself underneath got lost in there), but he's in good spirits, and that's great. they've adapted his work schedule, which makes him feel less useless, so he's happier. which makes me happier. too.

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i love yoga. i love my tuesday class. i love my two teachers, ralph and bettina.
i'm so happy i returned today, just in time for my tuesday class with ralph. - i needed it, and it was lovely.
i just feel so at home with the movements, the chanting, the meditation; i enjoy the connecting with the other folks there, eating at the chinese place next door afterwards, and the chatting. i need it all, so much, and i am so thankful i found them, all: sivananda yoga, my teachers, the tuesday group. i feel more at home now, after this lovely welcome.

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a new character on the "unter uns" soap has my last name. it's quite irritating: he's brandnew there, so he's still being called "mr.lastname" by everyone. and i hence hear my name on the telly. it has started to sound soap-like and fake.

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one of my horoscopes for this month read:

"eros - do's: fall in love with your yoga teacher, and go to india with him. marry."

and well, it's seems like it's here to stay, my little crush for ralph.
however, there are no plans to elope to india with him any time soon though, and i don't expect that there will be any body contact that goes beyong the help he gives during asanas.

it's doubtlessly partly because he's such a visual/physical turn-on, all flexible and strong, with fluent movements. he's gentle, and smart, and above all a man who does and knows yoga. and really, that's a turn on for me at the moment. he chants! he believes in chakras! he's in tune with his pelvic floor muscles! (mula banda, baby!) wow. and well, he's here, too, and i can look at him.
my mind has been playing some interesting tricks on me, circling around his body and mine, naked and together. blame it on the moon.

oy.

it hasn't happened in a while, me fantasizing about someone who is actually around me. and while it's enjoyable, it's also a tad bit odd.
even though this is all harmless, horoscope or not.
first off, he is my teacher, and yoga teachers and their students don't start sexual relationships, ever. even less when they are both hapily partnered (met his partner tonight, and she's lovely and does ayuvedic massage, and i might book her. yeah.) right now, i need some new friends, a circle of people who care and a good, reliable yoga teacher more than i need anyone besides or instead of evan.
and secondly, this is a crush, nothing more, based on the little i know ralph yet. it's nowhere near what evan and i have. - even though evan doesn't believe in chakras.

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i spend the train trip down here reading colleen mcculloughs "the thornbirds". - i can't even remember how many times i've read it, how many times i've seen the mini-series, especially the much beloved third episode, in which a young, yummy richard chamberlain (gasp!) breaks his catholic vow of celibacy on a supposedly australian beach. i swear, this mini-series seriously influenced my view on australia and the catholic church and installed the image of a barrier reef island as the most perfect place for a romantic getaway in my head.
it's such a great entertaining book, this one. all these repressed sex scenes. the catholic guilt. all so epic. so tragic. so profane. so very much enjoyable.

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one of my parents neighbours died under mysterious circumstances (i.e. all seemed rather suicidal) in a car crash three weeks ago.
i hardly knew him: i just saw him walking along our street with his dog pretty much every morning.

these past two weeks at home, i saw his widow every morning, walking the dog, his dog, usually shortly after 7am.

they both looked miserable together, his widow and his dog. she was always dressed in a black coat, looking tired. his dog always walking next to her, slowly, head down, hardly being the happy dog out on a morning walk.
they looked like they just don't belong together, and seeing them, nodding a good morning into their direction, made me sad.

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more tomorrow. then coherent. promise.