Who am I?

Well, at this stage of my life I really don’t know anymore. These writings may be a way to find out. Being a Gemini woman explains some aspects of my persona and personality, I see them as composed of several layers each one completely different if not the opposite of the previous one. Let’s see:
- Outer physical – rough and tough – tall and strong looking, dressed in black and denim, leather, army colours, nothing fluffy, embroidered or glittering, no make-up.
- Inner physical – soft skin, carefully chosen lingerie, sweet and hot perfume… Sensual, submissive.
The link between the two layers is my hair, hands and feet, a bit elven kind, long loose blond hair, hands with long fingers and a set of meaningful rigs. My feet are also long and thin plus have the ability to be happy or defensive. When happy they move with toes spread wide, when defensive they mostly end up curved and hidden, toes clasped together self-protectively.
Just to twist everything it may all be sprinkled with glittering over-coating - make-up, scarves, occasional skirt, earrings, necklaces and similar artefacts closely related to mating rituals, if you know what I mean… Still I somehow cannot respect people who are attracted by this over-coating, as it is inherently false. Is it too much to ask to be accepted, desired, loved the way I am, without resorting to icing sugar on top of the cake?
My mind and soul are organised in a similar way:
- Outer mind – rock-solid realism, money is necessary, bills have to be paid, the world is as it is, most people are mean or dumb or both, plus happy sarcasm, as one of my friends defined it.
- Inner mind – populated by gods and goddesses, witches and warlocks, wonders and conspiracies, Templars, masons, Holy Grail, dreams of Jerusalem and Monsegúr, candles, potions and tarot cards. Go figure.
- Outer soul – forged in the living fire of hell by someone I loved too much for my own good, so I don’t think anyone can really hurt me now. People who don’t get past this layer can only annoy me, make me mad or sad, but cannot hurt me. Not anymore.
- Inner soul – inner sanctum. Soft spot, not easy to reach from the outside and very vulnerable. What’s in there? Love, beyond measure, no defences, just love. Compassion, dedication, all the good stuff I have is hidden down there. It opens up sometimes, shows, gives away its riches, gets hurt and slams the doors shut again. Till next time, till next love. I know there’s a nucleus of evil in there too, I can feel it, but it has never shown in full. It’s laying there like a sleeping dog, sometimes grunting but with its eyes shut. One day it may wake up howling for blood, and it’s not going to be a pretty sight. Hush…
Yet again, glittering additions of swift intelligence, keen smile, and naughty sense of humour can alter rough and tough surface of mind and soul. More defence lines, if you wish.
And the beast? Where is the animal in me? The first reader asked and writers should reply to their readers… The beast is there, running in circles, jumping between the layers. It may show its face right on the surface or slip down below, but it’s there, oh yes it is. Much appeased these days, I must confess, but still alive.

I don’t intend to write a diary, I’m no Bridget Jones. Not-a-Book may contain dates, but Bridget, no I don’t think so. I’m different, but then, maybe I’m not. I like seeing myself as a higher intelligence being with all kinds of intellectual interests. Question is: am I kidding myself here? Maybe I’m just trying to deny a simple, hateful truth that I’m no more than a normal person is? Tough one. For someone who’s always been considered a family genius, who managed to outwit most teachers it’s not easy to think “I’m just an average person”, arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, I hate “average” so much!
Anyway, the diary form is not right for what I want. I will be writing mostly for myself to clear up some ideas, hopefully.