valentina

When I sniffed this one, I got a big whiff of blackberry along with booze. The buttercream and chocolate in the scent just didn't pop out at me. On initial application, it's very nice, fresh, dark berry with some sweet booze. But then, after about a half-hour, OMFG, I feel like I've been headbutted by a giant, juicy booze-soaked blackberry. It's really overwhelming -- not in a headachey way, but it's just too overpowering to my nose. I'm also just not about sweet, fruity, boozy scents this time of year, so I'm sending my bottle on to some who will it!

Hi again. Everyone's story has its quirks, and here's mine... My great liberal arts education resulted in a Poli Sci/English major with history, human geography and Slavic Studies minors. I was going to go to law school sometime, but decided to try to get a job as a guv'munt researcher or something groovy like that for a year or two. To my amazement, I did. Long story short, I decided I didn't want to go to law school, and ended up working for a state legislature in a non-legal position. I'm a fiscal analyst, which is conceptually a hoot in itself, considering I never took a moment of accounting. Believe me, the budget process and fiscal analysis of legislation is more of an art than a science. Because I would have attended law school so I could go work for a legislature, I never did that -- I'd ended up where I wanted to be via a different path. And I've been in this job a long time, because there's nothing more immediate, and the political process is like a giant psych lab. It doesn't pay a buttload of money, but I'm comfortable. However, the job is intense, it takes a lot of my time when the legislature is in session, and there's a lot of pressure put on staff. It's also had its effects on my relationships with men and my life choices, no doubt about it. The job requires a bit of an alpha female attitude, and in part because of my job, in part because of my mindset/disposition and in part because of my uncooperative biology, I've never had children. I'm also no treat in relationships with males. While I'm a very femme on the outside, I also have a very detached, cool side that confuses everyone, including me. It makes me very good at my job, but it makes me a pisser in relationships. It's not like I'm an asshole, but I'm hardly a mushball. Anyway, you have kids, and I don't see the "mommy track" as a bad thing at all. For someone who never had kids, I love kids. I think being a parent has to be the hardest job that a person can take, and I am always happy to hear about smart, literate, thinking people who have kids, but don't set themselves aside, or in the immortal words of an old friend, let their brains "go condo." From my perspective, you are doing important things -- you're raising your kids with parents who think. That probably sounds corny, but at this point in my life, I think it's a pretty big deal. We all have our value. I've given up trying to understand the wherefores and the whys of the way that things work themselves out, but it sounds to me that what you're doing is the right thing for you.

valentina likes a good case of externalized whiny pantie-ness, so I say blaze away! I get the PMS migraines and ugh, they are hideous. And to add to the TMI that you started, I hate summer for the stickiness qualities and I'd probably go regimental and just drop all underpanties, except that I tend to wear more skirts and well... it's windy here in Nebraska. My solution has been the Victoria's Secret panties made with a fine mesh fabric. The the nether regions can't get sunshine, they can get some fresh air.

Wow, I have a friend (a man) who fell off of someone else's deck (which was only a couple of inches high) and freakishly managed to detach his quadricep (the big muscle that runs down the front of the thigh) from where it attaches around the knee, taking a few tendons with it when it blew. After I finished wincing and groaning around about the huge amount of hurt that has to be, I realized that I wear stilettos much higher than the deck from which he fell. But he's a guy and I'd wager his joints were pretty tight and wouldn't tolerate the twist. I rationalize high girl heels by not walking very much in them -- no Carrie Bradshaw-like trotting down the street in them. It's hard on the shoes and it's hard on the feet. That's where I found "Sex And The City" to be the ultimate fantasy; no self-respecting Manolo lover would walk that far on asphalt, because it rips the hell out of them. And there was never, ever, one scene of Carrie soaking her aching tooties after a day of cavorting around in her spikers after Mr. Big or Aidan or whatever man du jour she had her sights set upon. If I'm wrong about that, please comment and let me know. There was a show when Big had angioplasty, but never one where Carrie had bunions removed. I love girl shoes as much as anyone, and if I ever get a pair of Manolos (or Jimmy Choos), I will post a photo of me wearing them on this blog. (My guess is that I would obtain a used pair on eBay, but you never know when the fairy godmother will appear. Hey, a girl can hope.) But in the meantime, BPAL is so much more affordable and versatile. You can walk on the asphalt in Chuck Taylor high-tops and still smell like a princess. That's a good trade-off.

I am so very sorry about your mom. Since I'm older than you, so please consider a few observations from an elder. The age you're at is a really weird age and I recall feeling exactly the same way. It's just a 'tween stage. Then things change, and if you stay current with with world (and I can't imagine you won't), that feeling will pass. Seriously. I have a few Gen-X friends who are feeling the way that you are, and they keep asking me why I seem to feel younger than they do. I have to remind them that when they met me 10 years ago, they didn't feel that way about me. Every decade brings its perspectives, and being in your late 30's is just weird. Plus, your mother just died. The world's a little dampened down for you right now, and no matter how much you think you'd prepared yourself for it, it's a serious, serious passage. I lost my father at about the same age that you lost your mother. It's just damn tough work. It makes you feel old, it makes you feel your mortality, it makes you yearn for those carefree days. You're very brave for talking about it and doing things to try to move on. So be kind to yourself, you are a BPAL person, so you must be way cool. And you're self-aware, so you have it going on. Just take it easy and vent whenever you want. I'm happy to listen and will try to limit my soapbox comments to a minimum. In the meantime, and

The title of your entry reminded me of an Ani DeFranco song, for some reason. I am so damn obsessed with songs and singers and poems the last couple o' days. It's just nuts. I think my more creative side has been repressed so much due to my job that everything is spewing forth. Anyway, a lot of your entries kind of remind me of Ani in her pensive moods. I like Ani a lot, so I mean that as a big compliment. It's been cloudy here for a couple of days, in the land of sunshine. It's a damn sunny place where I live. People are already crabby about the clouds, and the sun always comes out in the afternoon. I think you're in a much cloudier part of the country than I am, but it's greener, where you are, also. May the sun visit you very, very soon!

My body chemistry, what an odd thing that it is. To my nose, Thalia was a very, very sweet floral in the imp. I dabbed a bit on my skin and whoosh -- it blew up into a very strange scent. For some reason, it smells like a buttered floral on me, with certain pineapple-ish overtones. I kind of smelled like a pineapple upside-down cake sitting next to a bouquet of flowers. In any case, it wasn't me. I can see where it's a gorgeously sunny, girly scent on a lot of people, but it's just not my scene. Or my smell.

Hell, I have all sorts of time at work now... I can go back to reading poetry and posting favorite poems, so for all of you that detest poetry, just sign off now. And it's spring, so let's be romantic as hell, at least for a moment or two. Then I'll get real, but still in a romantic way. So for all you lovers out there, here's two ways to look at it. A mushy poem that I love, by E.E. Cummings: i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) And a not-so-mushy poem by Wallace Stevens: The night knows nothing of the chants of night. It is what it is as I am what I am: And in perceiving this I best perceive myself And you. Only we two may interchange Each in the other what each has to give. Only we two are one, not you and night, Nor night and I, but you and I, alone, So much alone, so deeply by ourselves, So far beyond the casual solitudes, That night is only the background of our selves, Supremely true each to its separate self, In the pale light that each upon the other throws. And you know, maybe they aren't so different, after all...

I know that Puskin poem! I took Russian in college and my professor had us read that one. I remember thinking, oh my god, this is so romantic and sad and tortured! Very Bronte-like in its pathos. I adore that shit, at least in writing. In reality, not one little bit. I never liked feeling that way, nor did I like having someone feel that way about me. A few years ago, I got to see the actor Anthony Zerbie recite E.E. Cummings poetry. It was a small theater and he was walking around, being a bit whacky, I think deliberately, since one can't be in a terribly linear frame of mind to either recite or to listen to Cummings. Zerbie liked to pick out people in the auidence to focus upon when he was reciting the poems, which was pretty funny to watch. And I'm sure it kept him entertained. There was a group of faculty wives in the front row, and when he began the poem "The ladies of Cambridge live in furnished souls..." his eyes went back and forth across that row. Ouch. They didn't get it, however. This is probably my vanity, entirely, but I swear he honed in on me (there was a man right behind me, I checked later) when he recited this poem. Afterwards, I probably would have stripped naked for him on the spot, had he asked me. And Zerbie is kind of old and not that great looking, but a good actor can do that to you... somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

There's a Bob Schneider song that goes: "The world exploded into love all around me..." and my version of it today is: "The world exploded into woots all around me..." Hell, I got a CnS on my big order last night! There's just something about knowing that your deferred gratification is about to be consummated. And this is a big order (for me, relatively) of Kali, O, Osun and Ogun. I love O so much and I was afraid I was going to use up the bottle that I now have prior to getting another. I'm probably going to have to order a big bottle the next time that I break down and order a LE. I need to get ready for work. I'll ramble more later.

Anyone who is even vaguely inclined to listen to jazz, go listen to "Modern Cool" by Patricia Barber. I think that CD might be the soundtrack to one side of my personality. Patricia is an openly gay women in a genre that typically rewards pretty, femme singers and piano players, which means she kicks ass so hard that she can't be ignored. One has to admire such a force of talent. The soundtrack to the other side of my personality would be anything by Bob Schneider, who is sadly not well-enough known outside of Austin, Texas. Although I am not in Austin, and I do know about him. Bob is the coolest thing on earth, and damn purdy. As in, I consider Bob to be my prototype hottie. Do you ever get yourself into situations that you think will be fun, but make you really, really sad? At best, wistful? I've done that to myself. Again. If I'm good at anything, it's that. At least I'm also good at taking responsibility for my own actions and my own moods, so I won't make the rest of the world miserable. This morning I was sitting at my favorite coffeehouse and damn, I saw so many cool things going on around me. People just being kind of awesome, and jerky, and just hanging out. Why do we think we need to go to church, when the temple of the world is all around us? Oops, that was really Zen of me and I'll stop all that mumbo-jumbo. I did have a friend send me a Buddha figurine; it just arrived in the mail. Her father went to India and she asked him to get one for her so she could send it to me. That was sweet of her. I'm so hankering for the CnS on my next order, which is a biggie and includes, among other things, a bottle of Kali and a bottle of O. I'm probably giving the Kali to my friend who sent me the Buddha, since she loves Kali beyond reason. So much so, she asked her dad to bring back a Kali statue for her. That's devotion. Do you ever feel like you have so many choices that it almost feels like you have no choices? That's called confusion. I think I'll go take a bath and listen to Patricia Barber and chill it down a bit. Peace and love to all...

For anyone who would be doing some back reading in my blog, first I have to say, "Why?" Then I have to say thank you for reading this far back in my blog. What are you looking for? Anyway, you won't find photos of me anymore. For reasons I won't get into, I decided to take them down. I think my descriptions are pretty vivid, let your imagination do the sight-seeing. It's more fun that way! This is me. I've never posted my photo in the thread where everyone posts their photo. Most everyone on this forum is very young and very gorgeous. Sometimes I feel so ancient, but hell, I'm immature, so that makes up for my chronological issues. I cropped my friends out of the photos. While I'm choosing to put my picture up online, but I'm not infringing on my friend's privacy by including them in the shots. Let's see... I've been told I look like Frances McDormand, Wendie Malick and Jane Fonda. I dunno. I think I look like I'm at a former Aerosmith groupie reunion in this picture. For the record, I never was an Aerosmith groupie, but if I had been, I would have been all about Joe Perry: I looked subdued and confused here, and I did have a migrane. I was also sitting on the floor talking to a 2-year-old. However, it is a damn fine shot of the highlights I had put in my hair and I love my new hairdresser. Let's give Brandi a round of applause for her handiwork. So that is me, patron saint of lost dogs and lover of all things that look and smell really really nice. If you ever see me around, do stop and say hey...

I think that hobbit hole is about as cute as it gets, and I love little dormer bedrooms like that one. Damn, I want you to get that house, so we can have our own ongoing version of a HGTV show here in the blogs!

I also have a mental picture of minlux's boyfriend, always trying to keep a tenuous hold on the rapscallion, even if she's in bright red and momentarily holding still! darkity, I got the Hitler treatment from a hairdresser that I'd gone to for years. She'd done the cool long bobs and all that good stuff on me, then went over the edge and did choppy bangs. Brandi took one look at them and went: "hmmmm.... different." If you're like me, your bangs grow really fast, and that's the good news! Mary McDowell? I've never heard that one before, but that's a compliment! I like her, especially in "Passion Fish," where she got to smooch David Strathairn, the lucky bitch. He's not aging that well (of course, I think he's authentic enough not to go for he cosmetic surgery), but he was a hot tamale baby in "Passion Fish."

thanks, antimony, you are sweet... And I think that's a fuchsia shirt that the Rapscallion in Fuchsia Tights is wearing in her photo! I know one other person who's a bit fuchsia-fixated, and I think that color is meant to be worn by, and look the very best on, the most vivid of the human creatures!

That Storyville icon is very, very nice, minilux. I want those stockings. Now that the legislative session is over, but it's not totally warm here yet, I'm going to wear my knee-length dress shorts to work with fishnets and high heels. And I LOVE Louise Brooks and I used to have a long version of her bob. It was a bit of a domme haircut and I had the hair color very, very dark. My bathroom is a shrine to LuLu; I have no fewer than 5 photos of her in that room. I was going to say that if Beth brought William Peterson (Grissom on CSI), I'd let her have Joe Perry, but I recall reading that she likes Gris also. Jeez, such good taste...

darkity, it that you seductively posing on the floor behind the hobbit door? It that the upstairs of the little abode you've been looking at, or another one? Details, details, details... I want them!!!

I think I must have lost dog karma. Or maybe some lost dogs have valentina karma. Anyway, I got up this morning and looked out the window, and there was a German Shepherd-type dog running loose across the street. No collar, looking very lost. I went out and called it, but it was scared and ran off. I called animal control and told them to go looking for it. I don't live that near to a main street, but if the dog went about 6 or 7 blocks, it would encounter a busy street. This afternoon after I went to lunch with my friend, I decided to drive back down to my office, because I'd left something there that I wanted to take home. I was kind of in a state yesterday when I left, and would have forgotten my head if it wasn't attached to me. So I'm crossing the intersection of a really busy street, and there's a smallish, German Shepherd type dog, running around the intersection. I turned and watched as people drove around it or slowed down, but didn't help it. I flipped a "u" turn and went back, pulled over, got out and got the dog. A man was right behind me trying to do the same thing, and we took turns hold the pooch as we waited for animal control. This dog was a young fella, collar but no tags, just been neutered, a sweet handsome pooch. So was that my lost dog karma in action? And is it me, or was it a little weird that I saw two lost German Shepherd-type dogs in one day? They just wandered into my path. It seemed really symbolic, and considering my mood of the last couple of days, it really makes me wonder what that was all about. I have a book on animal totems, and dogs are commonly associated with the various goddesses, especially huntress goddesses such as Artemis/Diana, Sarama (Vedic mother of the Dogs of Yama) and the Hounds of Annwn, the Celtic goddess. Dogs are seen as symbols of dependability, loyalty and faithfulness and my book says whenever the spirit helper is near, you will feel strong emanations of love surrounding you. Lost dog karma or a spirit messenger, I'm glad I was able to help at least one avoid death by a 50-MPH SUV. I do loves the poochies!!

darkity, the answer is that I have never, ever found a lost German Shepherd-type dog before. Lots of the rambling types like Labs, Border Collies, Aussie Cattle Dogs, even littler dogs like Cocker Spaniels and minature Schnauzers, but never a German Shepherd. So that made it extra weird yesterday. And I like kitty cats too... there's a couple feral cats in my neighborhood (minor rant: it really pisses me off when people move and can't take their cats with them, so they just let them loose -- what assholes) and there's always a tidy little bowl of kitty chow on my front porch in a nice secluded spot. I just can't have cats because the Bassetress (as I call my Basset) would make like rather difficult for a cat and I have a cockatiel named Herb D. Byrd who rides around on me a lot.

What a great story, minilux... you and the old dawg took a bit of a stroll! I swear, dogs have radar for certain people -- the guy who stopped at the same time that I did and ended up calling animal control had their number on speed dial because he's always finding lost animals. I always say that if dogs, little kids and old people think you're trustworthy, you must have good energy goin' on!

Divas! The empress of this blogdom is going to fall under the spell of darkitysnark's third person Bob Dole-certified writing style tonight, since valentina wishes to disassociate herself with this sort of mood as much as possible. valentina is terribly wistful, and almost sad. She may have to go sit around and cry to see if that helps. It was an emotional day at work, a long story that valentina doesn't care to recount, since it would turn into a detailed politics and government lecture and 'tina does know how deathly boring that becomes. Long story short, it was a day of goodbyes to people that valentina has known and worked with a lot of years, because they're leaving. Some of them 'tina knew longer and liked more than others, and a couple of them tugged very hard at the heartstrings. It was an ending and it was bittersweet. Goodbyes are never easy, but valentina has to be thankful that she was able to forge such relationships. And there's also a beginning. The beginning is a little scary, maybe. Beginnings bring mystery and uncertainty, and like anything in life, there will be joy and sadness in what lies ahead. valentina also realizes that she can be such an empath, but she normally assumes it's her imagination speaking. Several things in recent days have shown her that she should get out of her own way more often. 'tina has a bad habit of ignoring her inner voice, and her left brain and right brain spend a lot of time arguing with each other. Usually the left brain will overthink what the right brain is channeling out of her heart. Then the left brain realizes that the right brain was correct, and her right brain and her heart in unison say, hahaha, we knew it all along. And even in the middle of all of this, there's a part of 'tina that is so fucking happy, she can't believe it. The empress of this blogdom wishes to inform you that tomorrow she has the day off of work and will resume her breezy first-person lingerie and shoe and BPAL chatter.

Thank you sweetie, you too are so very nice.

Well, there's nothing like a good night's sleep to revive a person and my dream state must have cleansed my psyche of last night's abnormally wistful and weepyish fit. I have the day off work, I'm going to meet a friend at a brewpub at noon for beer and burgers, and then I'm going to run off and enjoy the sunshine. I would gather that BPAL cultists have really vivid dreams. Even if you didn't before, I'd wager that you did after you started using BPAL, because I think it has that effect. I think Beth is a shaman. But dreams are great. Wild-ass shit can just whorl up out of the depths of the subconsciousness and you can have a real show for a while. (Does my adoration of the movie "Waking Life" make more sense now?) I can tell the difference between "junk dreams," when my brain is simply blowing off the residuals of my day, and "big dreams," where I'm trying to tell myself something very important. I have gotten more efficient in my big dream process, for I had two of them last week, and they were brisk events. They got right to the point and I woke up from the power of the message. I know a bunch of y'all are the same way, aren't you? Dreams are fucking amazing. Ever had one that was a harbinger of something that was going to happen? That sense of deja vu, once it happens in your waking life, is pretty wild. However, I've gotten to the point that when it really happens, I think to myself: "Oh hell, I knew that!" Did anyone else love "The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" as much as I did? You can pretend you've wiped your brain's slate clean -- but your heart still remembers. There's an enormous number of nerves in the heart center, I believe the concentration in that area is second only to the brain. I don't think their functions are entirely physiological machine-control, just like the brain isn't all about being a mechanical control center. There's something going on in the heart center that just doesn't articulate into words right away, but the emotional message is very clear. I still am in a bit of a mood, aren't I? Well hell, that's OK. Tell me your weirdest dreams and make me laugh. Or tell me your saddest dreams, or most profounds dreams. I love 'em. And for today and every day, smell divine and feel beautiful... someone always notices.

I had a great really mystical dream about 4 or 5 years ago that I still remember. It takes too long to tell, but damn, it was so awesome. I think it was almost life-changing. I have a girlfriend who had a doozer of a dream, where her hair dryer was a time-travel machine and she and her parents turned it on and went back to Pearl Harbor to watch it get bombed.

gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!