valentina

Count me in the group that finds an initial similarity between Temple Viper and Khajurajo, no doubt due to the champaca flower and perhaps the frankincense. I actually put a bit of Khajurajo on the opposite hand so I could start to compare the two at the same time. The similarities end after a more thorough dry-down occurs, for the Snake Oil in Temple Viper is tremendously evident. After another hour, it mellowed even more, and becomes a soft, sweet Snake Oil with a bit of incense and hyssop around the edges. It's very pretty, very gentle, a much, much mellower scent than Snake Oil or any number of the more incense-like BPAL scents. The viper is a quiet and meditative little snake. I love incense scents and Snake Oil, so I am in heaven. But I think anyone who's found the incense-like BPALs or Snake Oil a bit overwhelming might really want to try Temple Viper, because of its softer, gentler quality.

Wow, 14 pages of reviews, Alice must be a favorite! So I finally got around to trying Alice myself -- initially on the skin, it's milky and floral, pleasant in an innocent, girlish sort of way. Then, the damn rose kicks in and amps insanely. It's amazing how rose can take over a scent on my skin chemistry, but it does. After a couple of hours, the rose finally wears off, and I get more of the milky vanilla scent with the spice of the carnation. That is really, really pretty. If you're a person who can hold the balance of the scent, this would be lovely, I am certain.

I absolutely loved the commentary in the spoiler. Absolutely. Loved. It. I am also sometimes Zen on my blog because I have really nice friends who listen to me bitch, like the one who just did so over my lunch hour. If it weren't for my friends, I'd be utterly psycho 24/7!!!!

On me, The Agony of Loss starts out sharp as a blade! I get a lot of very herbal, fresh lavender -- not the dried variety, the freshly-crushed variety. I also smell cedar, but I tend to amp cedar. That element lasts about 15 minutes, and then the lavender mellows and the sandalwood and smoke become much more apparent. I can also get a whiff of sweetness from the awapuhi in the background -- not that much, but just enough to soften the blend a bit more. What I get is a visual of someone going on a camping trip by themselves, sitting out among the cedars and tossing herbs, a few dried flowers and old love letters on the fire built with aromatic wood.

I think I've been both a man and a mother in past lives, although I'm neither in this life. (A cosmic tournament bye: "You don't have to deal with a penis or babies in this round...") I don't know what it is about some people, but especially in recent years, there's ones that when we met, we looked at each other and boom, there's a recognition. I don't know if it's reincarnation or that we simply rode in on the same dust cloud during the big bang, but it's there. Jung's theories about synchronicity and the collective unconsciousness also really hold true with those people, often eerily so, although anymore it doesn't really suprise me when things like that happen. Most of my immediate family, with a few exceptions, were a collection of people with whom I've had karma, but not the good kind. I'm spending the rest of my life running into the people who are my real family.

It's been a long month at work, since the start of the Legislative session. I've had a headache on-and-off since last Friday. It's indoor allergies and stress and not eating right and all that jazz. Thus, I've not been posting much around here, but I could not resist telling this story, courtesy of a coworker. My coworker, W., has a daughter who's in 6th grade. Apparently the teacher was doing a "having fun with alliteration" project, and the kids had to make up a fun alliterative sentence and illustrate it. W.'s daughter was doing something like "Cool California cats cook chewy chocolate chip cookies." An impressive alliterative string, and rather Kerouac-esque, if you ask me. I asked W. if the cats were wearing little berets and playing bongos as the cookies cooked. But I digress. W. told me that her daughter told her about a a friend's sentence, which was about "Big bald Bob." W. said she looked at her daughter and said: "What was that?" W. looked at my face, and started laughing, because I had taken it the same way that she had (for she's a perv too). We thought it was about "Big-balled Bob." I said I was picturing a 6th-grader's drawing of some guy with a wheelbarrow in front of him so his scrotal sac could ride on it. Gah, I'd hate to be the teacher in that class, trying to keep a straight face when that one was read out loud.

Or try Beware, big bald, big-balled Bob!

Cool! (Says she who works around politics.) Seriously, Obama's speech at the Democratic convention really blew me away -- I was telling everyone I knew to watch online reruns or watch it again on C-SPAN. Getting a chance to see him speak in person, especially when he's in the process of starting to run for President, would be awesome.

I'm so sorry.

I am a word etymology geek, and of course, any sort of "where did that world come from?" question sends me off in search of its origins. In this case: Webster's New Millennium™ Dictionary of English- Main Entry: blog Part of Speech: n Definition: an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called [Weblog], [Web log] Example: Typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author. Etymology: shortened form of Weblog Usage: blog, blogged, blogging v, blogger n ______________________________ I admit, I was really down on blogging a couple of years ago, if only because the few blogs I'd run across were the most self-aggrandizing, nauseating pieces of crap I'd ever read. I realize now that the source I'd used to come across them led me to some very unsatisfying blogs. (A much different forum, I won't get into that right now, that's another entry in itself!) Then I started reading political blogs, especially after watching a discussion on C-SPAN where a number of print media journalists were lamenting the demise of the newspaper as a source of true investigative journalism. The reason they most often cited for that demise was the proliferation of chain newspapers that functioned to reflect the views of the corporate ownership. One of the panelists was the woman who started the political humor-commentary blog Wonkette. Some of the more traditional print journalism panelists were dissing blogers because they lack the editorial control of journalistic ethics, and she retorted that when traditional journalism simply wouldn't look at the hard topics, investigate issues or print the controversial stories, blogs were stepping in to fill that void. And indeed, more and more serious journalists are running their own blogs these days, to the point that they're e-zines. I appreciate that a lot. Since Wonkette is essentially a political humor blog, I started reading a few more general humor and commentary blogs, just because some of those people make me laugh like crazy. And my local newspaper makes me laugh, but only inadvertantly, and only because they are so hick and pathetic. Good blogs takes things to a higher denominator, and I feel like I'm actually a part of the world again. So this brings me to writing in my own blog space, which I started mainly for the jollies of it. I saw it as writing practice, if nothing else -- I had no idea what I'd write about. But really, I tend to have a lot of stories. I see my life as an endless series of odd stories and observations, and I share the better ones. (Well, not all of them, but at least some of them.) Sometimes I get a little Zen or a little angsty, but that's human nature. And often, issues and problems take on a greater shape and clarity when one writes about them; the mere act of writing can help end the spinning-in-the-head that too often occurs if we just mull over things without setting them to print. I think reading each other's stories gives perspective to our own stories. I have friends who know me well, who see me a lot, who have certain expectations of me, and who sometimes do not look at me with fresh eyes. (Not in that "fresh" way, for any of you perverts out there! Oh, oops, hold it...I'm the pervert! ) So many of you give me a fresh perspective, either from your own entries, or through comments on my blogs. Sometimes you are a realilty check that I just can't get from my friends. Hopefully now and then (when I'm not carrying on about underwear, high heels, BPAL or dreams of George Clooney), I give you a different perspective that might also serve as a reality check. I think our reasons for blogging are as varied and nuanced as we are, and it only adds to the tapestry of our lives. All of you make my life so much more interesting, and for that I am most thankful.

I need to get my booty in gear and do something that has a time deadline on it, but I wanted to say thank you again for all the words of encouragement about my presenation. And I'd like to report that my presentation went just fine yesterday. No non sequiturs, just lots of good questions and good discussion. I was happy. It took a long time because there were several people learning how the process works, but that was fine. I don't mind that. What I did mind was how management of my office tried to deliberately frighten staff into believing that this was going to be the second ring of hell, and unlike anything we've previously experienced. They are so out of touch with what their staff are able to do, and they always assume we're the most incompetent boobs on the planet. I believe what's going on here is what the psychologists call "projection." My boss, in fact, informed me yesterday morning that he was tired and frazzled and wouldn't be able to help me much at all during the presentation. The reason? A pipe had frozen at his house the day before. It was unfrozen and all was well, but his wife was upset that they'd had to drill a hole in the new basement drywall and her anxiety had ruined his life. Now really, WTF? And just because his wife is high maintenance does not mean that he should return the favor with his staff! If I had walked in and swooned over my basement drywall, and said I couldn't possibly do my presentation, he would have told me to put on my big girl panties and get busy. So when my presentation was going well, he kept jumping in trying to participate and get attention. I do forget, it is All About Him. And the cold hard fact that I forget over every interim, is one that I have to relearn every year: If you're a female in the environment where I work, and you're not a needy wreck who requires propping up, and you're reasonably decent to look at, you will be run down at every possible opportunity. Insecure men love strong men, insecure men hate competent women. This fact is true all over the place, and it's just a matter of degree. I know there are many places that are much worse, if only because my bosses are too lazy to really make trouble for me -- they just try to run me down in subtle ways. They manage by fear, and that's a game that cowards play. I listened to T-Rex on the way to work. I'm wearing Snake Oil and my burgundy patent leather boots. The assholes don't get me down, because underneath it all, I'm entirely too weird for this place and they'll never figure me out. For everyone who has at some time felt what I'm describing today, and that would be most of you, here's one of my favorite quotes, from E.E. Cummings: To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.

You crack me up, because you say things like "I'm a housewife who leaves the house twice a week to go to class," like you're going to a community college personal enrichment class in flower arrangement. Nothing against community colleges and the art of flower arranging, but you are taking anatomy and forensic science classes at a major university! My brother is a scientist, and he has a few friends, he has a wicked funny sense of humor, he is always looking around him at the natural world, but he can also go for months without talking to lots of people -- he's very happy with his wife and his dogs and doing his thing. I think introverted-analytical people are simply wired like that. It seems to me that you and indarkmoon and cordia are all introverts who have very close bonds with your sisters. I think that is so interesting -- I have anything but a close relationship with my sister, so I had to go outside my relatives to find my sisters, so to speak. I sit on the borderline between introversion and extroversion on the Myers-Briggs, but I am more of an introvert, because when I am around people too much, I need to get the hell away to recharge my batteries. I think if you're not out around people too much, you're doing what's right for you. So more power to you! And I'm glad you're on the blogs and LJ, so I can get to know you in this way!

I've been really busy at work. I'm tired. I go to bed late, because I'm such a damn night owl, but lately I've been waking up at 3 in the morning and don't get back to sleep for an hour. Then at 5:30 the cat comes meowing his little cat butt off, asking to be fed. I put him on the bed and then he stands on me, kneading his paws on my chest. Oh, how relaxing. Then I got to work and run on pure adrenaline for 8+ hours. No wonder I can always lose weight in the legislative session. So it was such a rush when I came home yesterday and found my Lab order. I ordered another bottle of teh Smut, Chintamani-Dhupa, Swadinapatika, Vasakasajja and Bakeneko. Filgree Shadow already has my bottle of Vasa heading her way, because my body blew up the orchid in that one and 'gree is a vasa junkie! And bless her, she swapped me for the Bakeneko, because I ADORE that scent. Holy crap, I've never had a lunacy that I liked, much less loved. Swadinapatika is nice, it gets nicer after I wear it for an hour, even better after two hours. I think I should wear it on days that the little asshole wakes me up at 5:30, because if I put it on really early in the morning, it would be to its gorgeous mellow level by the time I got to work. I have Chintamani-Dhupa on my sales thread right now, but if no one buys it tonight, I'm taking it down. I don't adore it, but I don't dislike it. And Smut, I love teh Smut. Needed another bottle, but I don't wear Smut in the winter. The pure holy musk can be a bit much for me right now. My yoga teacher always says this, and it's very true, the brain needs to be scrambled and stimulated every now and then to keep on top of its game. When I meditated last night, I was as quiet as I'd been in a long time. Lately, my brain has been whirling a lot when I meditate, because work can be an obsession this time of year. I can't let it drop. But I swear, what stilled me last night was that I'd spent all evening sniffing and testing BPAL. For the people to test BPAL a lot, you know it's a very sensual and analytical process, all at the same time. You're kicking your senses into overdrive, but your brain is trying to decipher what you're smelling. Last night, it was what the doctor ordered, because it kicked my brain out of those old thought patterns and into something entirely new. How fabulous. So I'm off to meditate and to then attempt to get ready for bed and to find slumber early (ha!) and to dream sweet-smelling dreams. And if the damn cat wakes me up at 5:30 again, you know I'll be wearing Svadhinaopatika tomorrow!

Thanks to YouTube, I can now find 1980's music videos to see if they were as good as I recalled. I always loved this one. In fact, it drove me crazy. And it still does! (Sorry for the primitive link, my operating system here at work doesn't let me use the link function.) BTW, while this video aired at all hours of the day on MTV, I don't consider it entirely work-safe if your screen is exposed to interlopers. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjYuPAC6-lo

I'm a bit of an incense junkie, so when I smelled Chintamani-Dhupa in the bottle, it was like sniffing an unburned stick of very nice Indian incense. Once on my skin, it's most like the very clean, bright incenses, not cloyingly sweet or floral, I think because of the pine in the scent. Because it's very redolent of sandalwood and pine, I think this is a very unisex fragrance. The honey in this blend is not prevalent, and I think it serves to soften the sharpness of pine of sandalwood, which could become exceedingly sharp and bitter without something to smooth things out. Overall, it's a classic Indian incense scent, and I think it would work equally well as a room scent or as a fragrance to be worn on the body. ETA: The second time I wore this scent, I found it had a most amazing morph on the long term (2 hours+) dry-down. It went from having a certain edge to having a really lovely, honeyed, soft sandalwood quality. Gorgeous.

In the bottle, Vasakasajja is really an "oh, WOW" sort of fragrance. It's beautiful, round, bright, and intoxicating. Of all my new bottles, it was the scent I could hardly wait to try, because it smelled that good. On initial application and drydown, it's a fruity-floral exotic scent, with that incense undertone from the champaca flowers. I was tremendously excited. Then my body chemistry did its unfortunate thing and it became overwhelmingly sweet and berry-like. It changed so much from what it had been in the bottle and on first drydown, but that's typical of my body with fruity florals. For anyone who doesn't have a problem amping florals and fruity smells, and could retain that scent that I got on the first whiff, I am SO jealous of you, for this is a beautiful fragrance.

I am not utterly convinced that snarky has a cottage industry in the making -- cool custom t-shirts and cool custom little critters. Seriously! They are all so great. The Lab should hire you to make little critters for them!

In the bottle, Svadhinaopatika is sandwood incense. When it hits my skin, it retains its strong sandalwood scent, but a sweet incense quality follows on drydown. That rather sharp sandalwood incense quality continues for a half-hour or so, with the edge taken off by a certain powdery untone, which is probably the amber. But then it morphs again and really mellows down into a richer, deeper scent. After I had it on for a couple of hours, I could swear it had a sweet, tobacco-like quality to the scent. Maybe the oude or the massoia bark, sweetened by honey? I don't know, but when it hit that point, oh my hell, it is sexy. Love it to pieces!

In the bottle, Bakeneko wasn't any big woo for me -- it smells spicy, but almost a little dull. Deceiving little kitty cat! When it hits my skin, I get musk with citrus and cardamom. Upon further drydown, it's a dark spice tea, lots of cardamom and a warm skin-scent from the musk, which saves it from being a pure tea scent. Lurking underneath is just a teense of sweetness, which must be teh cherry blossom. Just. Freaking. Gorgeous. It's an extremely well-balanced scent, and finally, a scent with cardamom that isn't overwhelmed by another component when it hits my skin. This is a scent to absolutely treasure, because it is so utterly beautiful.

Dawn, I keep meaning to give you static that if you're going to give the title of an entry "Quickies," you KNOW what I think that is going to be! But good to hear from you. Is the ankle totally healed?

And how was the David Lynch movie?

How better to warm up the man on a dark, cold Illinois morning?

Thank you so much for finding that on YouTube! I hadn't even thought of doing a search there, but there it is!

Dude! Morticia is one of my role models. My heart just swelled when I saw her photo. A nice Morticia walk in a skirt that only helps accentuate the booty? It sounds to me like you are starting to work it!

Has anyone heard the Tori Amos cover of "Father Figure?" She kind of whispers her way through it. It can only be found on a 13-CD set called "Original Bootlegs," but I heard it on satellite radio a few times last spring. It's probably best for my mental health that I don't own it and can't listen to it all the time. I watched that video again today after not seeing it in ages, I was struck by how George was just smokin' hot. And the actress/model is an '80's version of Bettie Page. And of course, the lyrics still drive me insane...