Recently, I have found myself thinking about the past quite often. Mostly, I am looking back at those times when I had all kinds of exciting hobbies. Now, I’m left with running and writing (which will ultimately become something like a job, I hope). I do love running and want to improve myself in this field. But. Come on. Belly dance. Pole dance. Burlesque. Far more exciting. Far more sensual. The pole cries alone in the basement. My jingling belly dance belt is somewhere in my closet. The burlesque costumes packed away as well. I still have all of this. Hidden beneath the surface. But looks like that it might be time for some of this to resurface. Why the hell not?
It’s far-reached to call it a mid-life crisis, isn’t it? After all, I’m just 31. But I do feel that I need a bit of a change. I need to awake my sensuality. It has probably already started. When I stopped dying my hair pink and went back to red. I want to be that daring person again. I want to be on the stage again. I want Cythoslar back. My alter ego, my Gmail account, my stage name. Come on, Cythoslar, it’s time to wake up!
How did Cythoslar come into being in the first place? I was half as old as now. A young writer. A teenager. I created a plot that included four goddesses, each one representing one season. And a demon who kidnapped them all to create his own hellish season which was both hot and freezing at the same time. All the goddesses had very carefully tailored names, which I still use when generating passwords online. I spent a lot of time thinking of them. Oh, which goddess was Cythoslar? Nah, Cythoslar was the evil one, the DEMON.
I’ve signed up for a pole dance class. You’re welcome, Cythoslar.
1. Own and live in a house.
A day spent in a haze. Post-marathon, flying back home. Didn’t bring my computer on the trip, so didn’t do much anything.
2. Write AND publish a book.
Oh, but I did read when I was not asleep. Zadie Smith’s NW, a very different take on Londoners. I am finally getting into the book, starting to comprehend it. I have had it for a few years. I started it, then forgot. It was hard to find myself in that book’s world. But I kept it on my bookshelf and took it with me when I went to Milan. I do know that I like Zadie Smith. On Beauty and White Teeth were fabulous. She is an exceptional writer, even though I might not get all the things that come from her Jamaican heritage. Her stories do have lots of ethnic colour in them. This is enriching, really.
3. Win a major race.
Post-marathon rest day. Even walking was a bit painful for my thighs. Will get better soon.
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