(no subject)

Your soul is bound to the Burning Rose: The
Rapture.

"I go where my heart beckons me, and I go
with my head high. But sometimes, I get a need
until I bleed so my heart swims above my
head."

The Burning Rose is associated with passion,
intensity, and desire. It is governed by the
god Eros and its sign is The Flame, or Physical
Love.

As a Burning Rose, you can get lost in the moment
if you let yourself. You are a very physical
person, be it in relationships, work, or play.
You may be driven by your hormones sometimes,
but you know it's because you have to follow
your instinct.


What Rose Is Your Soul Bound To?
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(no subject)

YOU are the innocent.
Prince, princess, small child.
for some darn reason you always get the short end
of the deal. your heart is always in the right
place. intentions are good. so why do you get
all the crap? It makes for a good story
centered around you. see it's not all crap. so
hang in there, and don't foget you'll
eventually get yours. and it will be good.


what fairy tale role do you play? (this time with pictures)
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Adore My Self Day

According to these quizzes I am just plain wonderful. I'm Tinkerbell and Morrigan, innocent, rapturous, passionate, oracular, wise, honest, kind, supportive...LJ, you're lucky to have me. All donations welcome!

Adore My Self Day goes in tandem with Adore Your Love Night. This is a great universal truth. Try it and see!

Life is gorgeous.

Arse biscuits

After my euphoria yesterday, I've come to earth with a bump. Beloved Bear and I are poor right now, more so than I thought. I'll check my accounts in the morning, and see if some immediate good cheer can be forthcoming, though even if it is, we have to tighten our belts for a while. Funny, business is so much better now, though my accounts are still showing the appalling farce of earlier months. So it is just a matter of time and effort. Fingers crossed.

Never mind. The moon has been in a strange mood tonight. I couldn't see it properly at all, just a light like a hurricane lamp behind the clouds. It made me think of a lighthouse, or a kid using a torch to read comics under the bedclothes. I like the gibbous moon. Menacing, head bashed in by tumbling weather, and still too clever by half, she's up there tonight, thinking strange thoughts. Sometimes, whatever anyone says, the moon is a boy, an awkward shy passionate boy. And sometimes she's definitely a she, dreaming dreams, scheming schemes. Like now.

Here's to help and inspiration from her teeming brain!