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Rozsa Gaston – Author

~ Anne of Brittany Series & other works

Rozsa Gaston – Author

Monthly Archives: December 2012

Overcome relationship and downhill running fears in 2013

27 Thursday Dec 2012

Posted by rozsagaston in fitness, health, relationships

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

dating, exercise, love, overcoming fears, relationships, romance, runners, running, self-help, sport

Today my latest book, Running from Love, is downloadable FREE onto Kindle or any other e-reader device. Thurs. Dec. 27 and Fri. Dec. 28 only. Please take a minute to download, then take your time reading this story of romance between runners from rival track clubs.

Running from Love is a story to help you overcome relationship and downhill running fears in 2013. I’m still working on both and hope you are too. My gift to you, dear readers. Happy new year!

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Paris in Shades of Gray

10 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by rozsagaston in French culture, Paris, relationships, self-discovery

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Tags

Paris, Paris Adieu, Pere Lachaise cemetery, relationships, romance, self-discovery, Shades of Gray

shades of gray in Paris

At this time of year, Paris shows off in shades of gray. 

From mid-November to mid-March, Paris is one long season of gray days with the occasional breakthrough of a mild blue sky. None of those brilliant blue skies of a snappy, cold January day in New York, darlings. Instead, Paris cloaks us in somber, reflective gray that drives us inside to warm cafes and cozy corners where we keep company with a good book and let our imaginations wander.

An excerpt from Paris Adieu a coming-of-age tale of Ava’s journey to self-discovery in the City of Light. Christmas stocking stuffer? Yes, darlings. The season quickly sizzles between the pages of Paris Adieu.

PAris in shades of gray

Soon cloudless, warm October days gave way to iron-gray, rainy, cold November ones. The memory of Paris’s long, drab winter the year I’d turned twenty returned to me. Paris was nowhere near as cold as New York, but its skies were unrelentingly gray during the winter season, unlike the azure-blue brilliance of certain New York days in early winter. November to March in Paris was like one long month of February in New York.

Almost every day, I walked in Père Lachaise, where Arnaud and I had frequently strolled the month before. I began to notice the regulars who frequented the area: dog-walkers, couples, and lone walkers. All of us seemed shrouded in private thoughts – the cemetery a perfect backdrop for our self-reflection.

The Seine in shades of gray
Statue over the Seine, Paris

Upon entering the main gates late one gloomy, gray Friday morning I spotted a notice affixed to the lamppost next to the entrance. A print of a painting of a sharp-faced, aristocratic looking man announced an artist’s opening exhibit at a local gallery the following day, Saturday, November fifteenth. Startled, I realized a month had already passed since Arnaud had left. Even more shocked, I realized I hadn’t thought about him very much over the past few days.

I examined the poster more closely. The man’s petulant expression was similar to the way Arnaud looked at times. Almost guiltily, I admitted to myself I didn’t like that side of him at all. It reminded me of the sharp-featured, beautiful woman in the photo in his country home. I didn’t like her either. Suddenly, it made sense to me why he’d spoken of her as his mentor. They were most likely two of a kind – all angles, questions, and sharp edges. For the first time, I gave myself permission to accept how very different Arnaud was from me. I loved learning from him. But I wasn’t like him at all. Why was I trying so hard to fit into the image of a woman he might fall in love with?

Paris in shades of gray

I continued on my way into the cemetery, where I passed the next hour deep in self-examination. À chacun son goût, to each his own taste, Arnaud had said. On my own, without him around, I was free to explore what my own tastes were.

I picked my way among the monuments and gravestones, mulling over the possibility that my own choices might differ from the man I was involved with. My thoughts were subversive. My mind tingled and raced. I was falling in love with a new person.

Myself.

As I made my way down the main boulevard toward the exit, a tall, lean-faced man walked toward me. His gait was awkward, as if he was just renting space in his own body and wasn’t quite familiar with it.

As he passed, his eyes briefly made contact with mine. They were warm, strangely reassuring. Instantly, I felt a connection. Whoever he was, he wasn’t polished, smooth, one hundred per cent self-sufficient and perfectly packaged like most Parisians appeared to be, foremost among them – Arnaud. This stranger seemed a bit out of his element, interested to reach out. He hadn’t yet arrived, I’d guess. Just like me.

I shivered, hurrying on to escape my illicit thoughts. I was crazy about Arnaud’s blue-green eyes. Why had I even noticed for a moment the warm, brown eyes of a stranger? Shaking my head to clear it from conjecture’s cobwebs, I berated myself. Yet the thought remained. Arnaud’s glance didn’t reassure me. It was exciting, electrifying – but rarely reassuring. Was that what I really wanted out of a relationship with a man?

From Paris Adieu, chptr. 14, by Rozsa Gaston. A sizzling tale to lose yourself in when the season cloaks you in shades of gray.

Paris in Shades of Gray

10 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by rozsagaston in Paris, relationships, self-discovery

≈ Leave a comment

shades of gray in Paris

At this time of year, Paris shows off in shades of gray. 

From mid-November to mid-March, Paris is one long season of gray days with the occasional breakthrough of a mild blue sky. None of those brilliant blue skies of a snappy, cold January day in New York, darlings. Instead, Paris cloaks us in somber, reflective gray that drives us inside to warm cafes and cozy corners where we keep company with a good book and let our imaginations wander.

An excerpt from Paris Adieu a coming-of-age tale of Ava’s journey to self-discovery in the City of Light. Christmas stocking stuffer? Yes, darlings. The season quickly sizzles between the pages of Paris Adieu.

PAris in shades of gray

Girl at window in rain

Soon cloudless, warm October days gave way to iron-gray, rainy, cold November ones. The memory of Paris’s long, drab winter the year I’d turned twenty returned to me. Paris was nowhere near as cold as New York, but its skies were unrelentingly gray during the winter season, unlike the azure-blue brilliance of certain New York days in early winter. November to March in Paris was like one long month of February in New York.

Almost every day, I walked in Père Lachaise, where Arnaud and I had frequently strolled the month before. I began to notice the regulars who frequented the area: dog-walkers, couples, and lone walkers. All of us seemed shrouded in private thoughts – the cemetery a perfect backdrop for our self-reflection.

The Seine in shades of gray

Statue over the Seine, Paris

Upon entering the main gates late one gloomy, gray Friday morning I spotted a notice affixed to the lamppost next to the entrance. A print of a painting of a sharp-faced, aristocratic looking man announced an artist’s opening exhibit at a local gallery the following day, Saturday, November fifteenth. Startled, I realized a month had already passed since Arnaud had left. Even more shocked, I realized I hadn’t thought about him very much over the past few days.

I examined the poster more closely. The man’s petulant expression was similar to the way Arnaud looked at times. Almost guiltily, I admitted to myself I didn’t like that side of him at all. It reminded me of the sharp-featured, beautiful woman in the photo in his country home. I didn’t like her either. Suddenly, it made sense to me why he’d spoken of her as his mentor. They were most likely two of a kind – all angles, questions, and sharp edges. For the first time, I gave myself permission to accept how very different Arnaud was from me. I loved learning from him. But I wasn’t like him at all. Why was I trying so hard to fit into the image of a woman he might fall in love with?

Paris in shades of gray

Paris in shades of gray and brown

I continued on my way into the cemetery, where I passed the next hour deep in self-examination. À chacun son goût, to each his own taste, Arnaud had said. On my own, without him around, I was free to explore what my own tastes were.

I picked my way among the monuments and gravestones, mulling over the possibility that my own choices might differ from the man I was involved with. My thoughts were subversive. My mind tingled and raced. I was falling in love with a new person.

Myself.

As I made my way down the main boulevard toward the exit, a tall, lean-faced man walked toward me. His gait was awkward, as if he was just renting space in his own body and wasn’t quite familiar with it.

As he passed, his eyes briefly made contact with mine. They were warm, strangely reassuring. Instantly, I felt a connection. Whoever he was, he wasn’t polished, smooth, one hundred per cent self-sufficient and perfectly packaged like most Parisians appeared to be, foremost among them – Arnaud. This stranger seemed a bit out of his element, interested to reach out. He hadn’t yet arrived, I’d guess. Just like me.

I shivered, hurrying on to escape my illicit thoughts. I was crazy about Arnaud’s blue-green eyes. Why had I even noticed for a moment the warm, brown eyes of a stranger? Shaking my head to clear it from conjecture’s cobwebs, I berated myself. Yet the thought remained. Arnaud’s glance didn’t reassure me. It was exciting, electrifying – but rarely reassuring. Was that what I really wanted out of a relationship with a man?

From Paris Adieu, chptr. 14, by Rozsa Gaston. A sizzling tale to lose yourself in when the season cloaks you in shades of gray.

Rich People

05 Wednesday Dec 2012

Posted by rozsagaston in modern life, self-esteem

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

be here now, chic, fashion, kindle book, Paris, Paris Adieu, rich people

Countess Jacqueline de Ribes does rich nicely

Countess Jacqueline de Ribes does rich nicely

Rich People – Musings on Those Unlike Us

Rich people are much busier than you and me. For example, a rich person wouldn’t have time to read this blog, never mind write it. They’re too busy doing other things such as talking on their cellphones, texting and ignoring whoever is nearby.

Rich people are good at multi-tasking. What they’re not good at is paying attention to what’s happening in their immediate environment. That would require an attitude that shouts, “I don’t have anything better to do than hang out with you right here, right now!” That’s not a rich person’s attitude.

Would you like to be rich? Me too. While we’re working toward this goal, we need to fake it till we make it. What’s that all about? Read Paris Adieu. Start on p. 63 if you’re really in a hurry to know or continue reading here.

Faking it till you make it is about visualizing yourself somewhere, then filling in the gaps along the way to getting there. There’s more to it than that, but for a complete discussion of the technique, roam around Paris Adieu, my book on Ava’s adventures in Paris, to discover how Ava graduates from plump, frizzy-haired cluelessness to becoming a woman with a certain air that scents the atmosphere around her and turns heads for the rest of her life. Her passport to her destination is to fake it till she makes it. She’s still faking it, frankly, but never mind. As far as you and I are concerned, she has arrived.

Rich people frequently act as if they have arrived and you haven’t. The hitch is, the place where they’ve arrived is usually somewhere other than where they are at the moment.

One of the problems with being rich is that you’re no longer living in the here and now, once you’re there. You’re somehow somewhere else at every single moment of your present one. Think of how professional models act when someone takes their photo in public. They look away from the camera, as if there’s a better party they’re about to leave yours to go to.

That’s how rich people are too. So my advice to you, dear reader, is to work on becoming rich, but don’t worry too much if you’re not there yet. Better to stay in the here and now than in the somewhere better, some other time. At least you’ll be fully present. That’s a present to everyone around you. And what could make you feel more rich than being able to offer gifts to people everywhere you go?

This holiday season be your own gift to yourself and be here now. If you’re not quite there yet, then fake it till you make it. If Ava can do it, you can too. Happy holidays!

Fabulous book alert – I Want to Be Her! by Andrea Linett with illustrations by Anne Johnston Albert. An illustrated treatise on how to look rich.

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