Ten good things
Feb. 2nd, 2014 12:13 am1. I managed to sign up at the Saison Poetry Library and kind of want to just... move in there. Permanently. (As it is I have borrowed two collections of Mary Oliver, and a gorgeous edition of Neruda in parallel translation, Ode to Opposites.)
2. I saw actual sunlight today, more than once. (On Friday I got into work shortly before sunrise, and left shortly after sunset, and spent most of the intervening time in the basement.)
3. I woke up in the same place as a good friend who'd needed somewhere to crash last night, after a lot of awesome restorative sleep, and we made each other breakfast.
4. I got several Useful Errands run, including the final step of my Freedom Pass application (I should now receive one at some point within the next ten days); and posting off two parcels (one paying-it-forward of some books, one returning a thing that means I will get some working scales again, which will be nice).
5. Captain Awkward meet-up, at which I got some cooking done and ate more awesome food from the farmers' market that happens outside the Southbank Centre, including my first ever churros and also my first ever koshari.
6. I continue to mostly really enjoy Mothership (with a few caveats about occasional searing misogyny).
7. The perfume wot![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
noldo gave me recently ("for the discerning Iranian brodude") layers really well over my ridiculous predominantly-jasmine shower gel from Lush, in ways that made me very happy today.
8. I've got a date confirmed to give a poetry reading as part of a cabaret-style show. Eek, but also - this is a thing I want to try; let us see how it goes.
9. I am doing some important and necessary and ultimately, I think, very good brainwork, about what it means to be "hard work" and what circumstances I frame myself as same under and how fair (or, more usually, otherwise) that is to me.
10. DINNER PARTY I got to help cook, and I got to shout cheerfully about sex and flame wars quite a lot, and then on the tube home I had a really good, intense, and sadly-curtailed discussion about consent in mental health treatment, which is very much one I would like to continue.
... and as is the point of these lists, now I've started thinking of good things I keep wanting to cram more in :-) There's a poem trying to happen about this - about how it's viewed as arrogant and self-congratulatory and prideful to give time and space to thinking about things that have gone well, things that one has done well, things that one has enjoyed; where self-flagellation years after the fact about specific incidents lasting less than five minutes isn't something I experience so much general social disapproval of (possibly because I try to keep that particular endless wellspring of shame out of the public eye). A first draft happened but isn't right - there's something: I'm daring to write things that aren't quite right, to trust myself to rework them, to experiment with getting down on paper things that don't insistently nudge their way into my heart and stick there until I coax them out; I'm daring to learn, to make mistakes - but maybe it will see the light of day eventually (along with the poem about emotions as whales).
Yes. Hard and tired but good.
2. I saw actual sunlight today, more than once. (On Friday I got into work shortly before sunrise, and left shortly after sunset, and spent most of the intervening time in the basement.)
3. I woke up in the same place as a good friend who'd needed somewhere to crash last night, after a lot of awesome restorative sleep, and we made each other breakfast.
4. I got several Useful Errands run, including the final step of my Freedom Pass application (I should now receive one at some point within the next ten days); and posting off two parcels (one paying-it-forward of some books, one returning a thing that means I will get some working scales again, which will be nice).
5. Captain Awkward meet-up, at which I got some cooking done and ate more awesome food from the farmers' market that happens outside the Southbank Centre, including my first ever churros and also my first ever koshari.
6. I continue to mostly really enjoy Mothership (with a few caveats about occasional searing misogyny).
7. The perfume wot
noldo gave me recently ("for the discerning Iranian brodude") layers really well over my ridiculous predominantly-jasmine shower gel from Lush, in ways that made me very happy today.8. I've got a date confirmed to give a poetry reading as part of a cabaret-style show. Eek, but also - this is a thing I want to try; let us see how it goes.
9. I am doing some important and necessary and ultimately, I think, very good brainwork, about what it means to be "hard work" and what circumstances I frame myself as same under and how fair (or, more usually, otherwise) that is to me.
10. DINNER PARTY I got to help cook, and I got to shout cheerfully about sex and flame wars quite a lot, and then on the tube home I had a really good, intense, and sadly-curtailed discussion about consent in mental health treatment, which is very much one I would like to continue.
... and as is the point of these lists, now I've started thinking of good things I keep wanting to cram more in :-) There's a poem trying to happen about this - about how it's viewed as arrogant and self-congratulatory and prideful to give time and space to thinking about things that have gone well, things that one has done well, things that one has enjoyed; where self-flagellation years after the fact about specific incidents lasting less than five minutes isn't something I experience so much general social disapproval of (possibly because I try to keep that particular endless wellspring of shame out of the public eye). A first draft happened but isn't right - there's something: I'm daring to write things that aren't quite right, to trust myself to rework them, to experiment with getting down on paper things that don't insistently nudge their way into my heart and stick there until I coax them out; I'm daring to learn, to make mistakes - but maybe it will see the light of day eventually (along with the poem about emotions as whales).
Yes. Hard and tired but good.
Repeated rituals as roots
Dec. 31st, 2013 12:12 pmThese are the steps of the morning: get out of bed. Daylight bulb. Teeth. Shower. Dress. Select jewelry; select perfume. (Try to remember, to summon energy, to brush my hair.) Breakfast. Pills. Is everything in my pockets? Is everything in my bag? Do I need a coat?
-- it's not that simple. It's never that simple. Sometimes "get out of bed" gets broken down into minute steps. "Shower" is almost always smaller than that: pyjamas? dressing gown? towel? bathroom. remove clothes. hang towel on rail. stand staring blankly into space. eventually remember how to step into the shower. eventually summon motive force to do it. is my hair up? do I know where my shower cap is? should it be on my head? did I actually remember my towel? fuck. hot water: hot water helps. now what? choose shower gel. spiky or warm? was it cold outside? did I get daylight when I opened my eyes? rinse. turn off water. try to remember how to get out of shower. wrap self in towel. stand staring blankly into space.
Some days, I can run through on autopilot. Some days, every motion is a choice (and every choice is hard). This is what living with executive dysfunction, exacerbated by depression, is like.
( Read more... )
I still find it unsettling to realise how hugging myself in the bathroom, lost and all forlorn, somehow strings moment into moment into being, into brightness and beauty and confidence. I curl myself around these rituals; I draw strength from them; and I am building myself a life.
-- it's not that simple. It's never that simple. Sometimes "get out of bed" gets broken down into minute steps. "Shower" is almost always smaller than that: pyjamas? dressing gown? towel? bathroom. remove clothes. hang towel on rail. stand staring blankly into space. eventually remember how to step into the shower. eventually summon motive force to do it. is my hair up? do I know where my shower cap is? should it be on my head? did I actually remember my towel? fuck. hot water: hot water helps. now what? choose shower gel. spiky or warm? was it cold outside? did I get daylight when I opened my eyes? rinse. turn off water. try to remember how to get out of shower. wrap self in towel. stand staring blankly into space.
Some days, I can run through on autopilot. Some days, every motion is a choice (and every choice is hard). This is what living with executive dysfunction, exacerbated by depression, is like.
( Read more... )
I still find it unsettling to realise how hugging myself in the bathroom, lost and all forlorn, somehow strings moment into moment into being, into brightness and beauty and confidence. I curl myself around these rituals; I draw strength from them; and I am building myself a life.
my favourite scents
Dec. 2nd, 2013 10:22 pm[Daily December masterpost; still open slots, if there's anything you'd like me to write about!]
I've written before about my relationship with perfume, which is probably helpful but unnecessary background to this post; nonetheless! It is there if you want it.
And then, of course, one of the things that I want to note first off is that the perfumes I most like to wear don't always have any relation at all to the scents I'm fondest of. Yesterday, I talked some about foods that smell reassuringly of home: parsley and nutmeg and walnuts and caraway and rye. There's more, of course: fresh yeast; stewing apples; the sea; catabatic winds.
Whereas the perfume I wear - I wear it for myself, not for other people, so that I have something familiar and comforting that I can bury myself in if I need to escape. It's very much about having something familiar and sensory to retreat to, if necessary; more on this later in the month.
-- I was saying. The perfume I wear is intended to be things that are comforting to me; I care relatively little about what other people think of it, beyond the obvious points of "not setting off people's allergies" and "treat for the boything". I tend to gravitate towards things that are heavy on woods or vanillas or stones or leathers as base notes - things I can interpret as weighty and grounding and strongly located - though on days when I am feeling sharper, spikier, I've got a range of scents based on white musk, with varying amounts of citrus and lavender. I mostly don't wear florals, largely because I'm allergic to lots of them; and beyond that because I tend to prefer things that aren't just or overwhelmingly floral - Penhaligon's Vaara is pretty much the only floral nonsense I wear, and that mostly in summer.
Fruits is a different matter: I routinely wear things that smell of mandarin or apricot or raspberry over the top of the base notes I talked about above. Herbs and spices are also, in general, a yes - though BPAL's cinnamon note amps to the point of drowning out everything else in the perfume on me (and their snow note turns into "motorway service station toilet cleaner"). Chocolate and hazelnut are things I adore.
If you want to know about particular things I wear a lot, or am wearing this week, by all means ask in comments; or if you'd like to list things you like and ask me for a rec by all means do :-)
I've written before about my relationship with perfume, which is probably helpful but unnecessary background to this post; nonetheless! It is there if you want it.
And then, of course, one of the things that I want to note first off is that the perfumes I most like to wear don't always have any relation at all to the scents I'm fondest of. Yesterday, I talked some about foods that smell reassuringly of home: parsley and nutmeg and walnuts and caraway and rye. There's more, of course: fresh yeast; stewing apples; the sea; catabatic winds.
Whereas the perfume I wear - I wear it for myself, not for other people, so that I have something familiar and comforting that I can bury myself in if I need to escape. It's very much about having something familiar and sensory to retreat to, if necessary; more on this later in the month.
-- I was saying. The perfume I wear is intended to be things that are comforting to me; I care relatively little about what other people think of it, beyond the obvious points of "not setting off people's allergies" and "treat for the boything". I tend to gravitate towards things that are heavy on woods or vanillas or stones or leathers as base notes - things I can interpret as weighty and grounding and strongly located - though on days when I am feeling sharper, spikier, I've got a range of scents based on white musk, with varying amounts of citrus and lavender. I mostly don't wear florals, largely because I'm allergic to lots of them; and beyond that because I tend to prefer things that aren't just or overwhelmingly floral - Penhaligon's Vaara is pretty much the only floral nonsense I wear, and that mostly in summer.
Fruits is a different matter: I routinely wear things that smell of mandarin or apricot or raspberry over the top of the base notes I talked about above. Herbs and spices are also, in general, a yes - though BPAL's cinnamon note amps to the point of drowning out everything else in the perfume on me (and their snow note turns into "motorway service station toilet cleaner"). Chocolate and hazelnut are things I adore.
If you want to know about particular things I wear a lot, or am wearing this week, by all means ask in comments; or if you'd like to list things you like and ask me for a rec by all means do :-)
I've just realised a thing.
Oct. 29th, 2013 10:33 amContent note: mention of self-harm.
It's really, really important for me to feel connected to my body, reminded that I am embodied, and reminded that I'm real. For a huge chunk of my life, the best way I've had to access that when I'm in a state has been self-harm.
Around this time last year I decided that I was always going to have two shower gels on the go, one "warm/snuggly" and one "cold/crisp". I'm actually currently at five.
Also about a year ago, I started getting nicely scented moisturiser for my hands. (On the go at home: E45 with bergamot oil and black pepper added. At work: raspberry body butter.)
And then early this calendar year I got into perfume.
And -- the thing is, these aren't consciously instead of self-harm, and obviously my anti-depressants have a huge amount to do with the ways in which incience of SI is much lower, but -- I think these help too? I really think these help too, in terms of making me more aware of my body and more at home in it.
So: huh.
It's really, really important for me to feel connected to my body, reminded that I am embodied, and reminded that I'm real. For a huge chunk of my life, the best way I've had to access that when I'm in a state has been self-harm.
Around this time last year I decided that I was always going to have two shower gels on the go, one "warm/snuggly" and one "cold/crisp". I'm actually currently at five.
Also about a year ago, I started getting nicely scented moisturiser for my hands. (On the go at home: E45 with bergamot oil and black pepper added. At work: raspberry body butter.)
And then early this calendar year I got into perfume.
And -- the thing is, these aren't consciously instead of self-harm, and obviously my anti-depressants have a huge amount to do with the ways in which incience of SI is much lower, but -- I think these help too? I really think these help too, in terms of making me more aware of my body and more at home in it.
So: huh.
BPAL does a single-note perfume oil named "Hungarian Caraway". That tries to, you know, smell like caraway seeds. (I assume. Having not tried it or even read descriptions. Which is perhaps erroneous, given that I recently came across a scent named "Mit Schlagobers" which claims to be kiwi-scented or some shit. Relevant information: "Schlagobers" is an Austrian term for whipped cream. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW.)
Every time across it, my reaction is approximately "... O_o no but that is FOOD why would I want to smell like FOOD what is WRONG with you people??"
This is funny only because, um, most of my other favourite scents?
... vanilla. Apricot. Blackberries.
BUT APPARENTLY IT IS ONLY FOOD IF IT IS FROM THE MOTHERLAND. IDEK. (And please, as I say this, bear in mind that I consider apricot FROM THE MOTHERLAND for the purposes of most of my interactions with it.)
Every time across it, my reaction is approximately "... O_o no but that is FOOD why would I want to smell like FOOD what is WRONG with you people??"
This is funny only because, um, most of my other favourite scents?
... vanilla. Apricot. Blackberries.
BUT APPARENTLY IT IS ONLY FOOD IF IT IS FROM THE MOTHERLAND. IDEK. (And please, as I say this, bear in mind that I consider apricot FROM THE MOTHERLAND for the purposes of most of my interactions with it.)
I am curled up in my pyjamas eating home-made raspberry trifle (including some of our own raspberries, frozen in years gone by) dropped off for me by my mum yesterday.
Mostly, yes. I have been experimenting with not, for my other Three Weeks For Dreamwidth posts since Monday (I'll be posting a round-up on Saturday, LJ folks), but actually much as I would like to move across to DW solely (-- all else aside, LJ is about to make the friends' page unreadable for me) I know lots of lovely people who are LJ-only, or predominantly-LJ, and I want to keep in touch with them (you) more than I want to be an idealogue about my blogging platform, by and large. ;) (Plus I'm aware that some of you have Definite Reasons for not-DW, rather than lock-in/inertia, and while I'm okay challenging the latter I am not okay stamping all over people in re the former.)
I'm kind of embarrassed by how much I love the BPAL perfume "Appalling Abattoir", but it is delicious.
I'm really enjoying the likely oh-so-brief break from terror.
Mostly, yes. I have been experimenting with not, for my other Three Weeks For Dreamwidth posts since Monday (I'll be posting a round-up on Saturday, LJ folks), but actually much as I would like to move across to DW solely (-- all else aside, LJ is about to make the friends' page unreadable for me) I know lots of lovely people who are LJ-only, or predominantly-LJ, and I want to keep in touch with them (you) more than I want to be an idealogue about my blogging platform, by and large. ;) (Plus I'm aware that some of you have Definite Reasons for not-DW, rather than lock-in/inertia, and while I'm okay challenging the latter I am not okay stamping all over people in re the former.)
I'm kind of embarrassed by how much I love the BPAL perfume "Appalling Abattoir", but it is delicious.
I'm really enjoying the likely oh-so-brief break from terror.
symptoms log
Apr. 16th, 2013 07:12 pmhey, guess what? 24-and-change hours after my last dose of gabapentin, I'm no longer rocking and whimpering! I just did the washing up that's been sitting around since... last Wednesday! While dinner was cooking!
I don't think I can blame all of the get-up-and-go on having won a series of eBay auctions for BPAL at ridiculously low prices. ;)
ETA: "hmm," I thought, "I should do something while I digest gently." "... solitaire?" I thought. "... actually, I'd rather do some work," I replied.
DING DING DING.
I don't think I can blame all of the get-up-and-go on having won a series of eBay auctions for BPAL at ridiculously low prices. ;)
ETA: "hmm," I thought, "I should do something while I digest gently." "... solitaire?" I thought. "... actually, I'd rather do some work," I replied.
DING DING DING.
three things make a post
Apr. 13th, 2013 12:28 am1. I wrote a thing on my relationship with the NHS for the LashBlog. It's titled I love the welfare state. (-- and if you're interested, a DW feed exists! ![[syndicated profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/feed.png)
lashingsofgb_feed.)
2. I am currently wearing Glasgow on my clavicle and Marquis de Carabas on my wrists, and I reckon I smell amazing, and... that is helping. A lot. (See below.)
3.jeshyr made me a choker! ... well, they didn't make it for me personally, they made it for their Etsy store and I couldn't resist buying it. It's the minimalist rainbow and silver necklace, and it is a kind of jewelry I can be comfortable wearing, and that's kind of amazing. (See also: reclamation; broadening occupiable spaces.) Unforch I kind am kind of critically unimpressed by both my ability to take photos of myself with my cameraphone and my face this evening, but nonetheless have some photos of me wearing it. (That's not a request for compliments; I mention it more in the spirit of: we were joking, in IRC the other night, about how - even though I talk about counselling, even though I talk about the sads, even though I talk about things that I'm scared about - I can sometimes give the impression of being ~perfect~? And - I'm not, and for all I talk about liking my body and self-compassion and so on, I do think that it's important that I say: me too. And I think it's important that I record this so that my future self can look back and send me hugs. Thank you, future self - it does actually help. x)
( Two photos. )
--- ahaha, thank you, Indigo Girls: during the time of which I speak/it was hard to turn the other cheek/to the blows of insecurity
lashingsofgb_feed.)2. I am currently wearing Glasgow on my clavicle and Marquis de Carabas on my wrists, and I reckon I smell amazing, and... that is helping. A lot. (See below.)
3.
jeshyr made me a choker! ... well, they didn't make it for me personally, they made it for their Etsy store and I couldn't resist buying it. It's the minimalist rainbow and silver necklace, and it is a kind of jewelry I can be comfortable wearing, and that's kind of amazing. (See also: reclamation; broadening occupiable spaces.) Unforch I kind am kind of critically unimpressed by both my ability to take photos of myself with my cameraphone and my face this evening, but nonetheless have some photos of me wearing it. (That's not a request for compliments; I mention it more in the spirit of: we were joking, in IRC the other night, about how - even though I talk about counselling, even though I talk about the sads, even though I talk about things that I'm scared about - I can sometimes give the impression of being ~perfect~? And - I'm not, and for all I talk about liking my body and self-compassion and so on, I do think that it's important that I say: me too. And I think it's important that I record this so that my future self can look back and send me hugs. Thank you, future self - it does actually help. x)( Two photos. )
--- ahaha, thank you, Indigo Girls: during the time of which I speak/it was hard to turn the other cheek/to the blows of insecurity
I have, as mentioned, acquired a perfume habit.
There's a lot of reasons for this: one is the looming deadline and exam term, though that's clearly not the whole story, because I've also acquired an Indigo Girls habit.
But... it's not, actually, just about procrastination. It's about a lot of things.
It's about giving myself another reason to get out of bed, and to wash, and to get dressed. It's about sensory reassurance: about carrying something with me, throughout the day, that is familiar and comforting and evocative; through which I can close my eyes and be on empty moors, or by a fire, or in an old and dusty library, or in the dappled shade of trees, or walking across fresh-tilled fields in autumn.
It's also - and this isn't as paradoxical as it might appear - about grounding myself in my body, and about claiming it as my own. I've talked before about dysphoria - about how confused I am by the existence of some parts of my body, and about how alien they feel - and I've been talking a lot, recently, about other people's projections onto my body: about assessments and assumptions, about rewriting my self to fit their worlds. (There is a poem about this; I've been thinking about it a lot, too.) Scent marking - I am here; I was here; this is mine - has a long and, uh, illustrious history among mammals; I don't think what I'm doing here is really much different. A familiar scent gives me something to come home to; and it tells other people that this is mine, that I actively claim it.
So it also feeds in to taking up space: reminding myself that it's okay to speak without first apologising; that it's permitted to square my shoulders and occupy centre stage, rather than folding in on myself in a corner lest I get in the way (and trodden underfoot; and so on). This does, obviously, have its drawbacks: I need to think very carefully about the fact that I'm allergic to many common scent compounds, and to remember that just because a scent is fine for me doesn't mean it will be for everyone I interact with. This goes both ways: it reminds me to be respectful and compassionate towards others and myself.
And it changes my self-perception, or is possible because my self-perception is changing: because one of the threads running through my life at the moment - thanks be to the Fates - is, yes, reclamation. Reclamation of my body. Reclamation of my gender. Reclamation of space: to inhabit, in both literal and metaphorical terms. I am thinking a lot about the spaces available to us in terms of masculinities, femininities and androgynities - there's an essay in the works on the topic - and perfumes seem to me to be an excellent field in which to start.
Some people have expressed surprise when I've mentioned perfume: but perfume's feminine, they say, floral, not very... you. Is it?
If the assumptions were true, the premise would hold. But... they're not.
One of the things that surprises me, over and over again, is that the houses I'm buying from don't, by and large, gender: yes, where they mention it it's binary, but they take great care to say "for men and women", rather than "this is a MANLY MAN MAN MAN MAN MALE scent" and "~this is delicate and floral for the laydeez~". And the BPAL forums, similarly: people might say they consider a scent masculine or feminine, but you'll have different people saying both, and "neutral", for every scent reviewed. In person and online, people are willing to experiment: "this wasn't good on me, but was delicious on my SO," or vice versa. In the world of perfume I'm occupying, oppositional sexism seems to be well and truly dead: gender categories aren't rigidly defined as opposites, and movement between them is not only permitted but encouraged.
This is the work I want to do - to make it possible for people to make those journeys. And, for the first time outside explicitly social justice-conscious spaces - for the first time, in a space that's dominated by cis het people - I've come across somewhere that does that, automatically, without thinking.
in the land outside this social scene/the streets are filled with the gender police, say Jesus and His Judgmental Father - and it lifts my heart to find another social scene where that is not true.
And that is why I have fallen so hard for this hobby.
There's a lot of reasons for this: one is the looming deadline and exam term, though that's clearly not the whole story, because I've also acquired an Indigo Girls habit.
But... it's not, actually, just about procrastination. It's about a lot of things.
It's about giving myself another reason to get out of bed, and to wash, and to get dressed. It's about sensory reassurance: about carrying something with me, throughout the day, that is familiar and comforting and evocative; through which I can close my eyes and be on empty moors, or by a fire, or in an old and dusty library, or in the dappled shade of trees, or walking across fresh-tilled fields in autumn.
It's also - and this isn't as paradoxical as it might appear - about grounding myself in my body, and about claiming it as my own. I've talked before about dysphoria - about how confused I am by the existence of some parts of my body, and about how alien they feel - and I've been talking a lot, recently, about other people's projections onto my body: about assessments and assumptions, about rewriting my self to fit their worlds. (There is a poem about this; I've been thinking about it a lot, too.) Scent marking - I am here; I was here; this is mine - has a long and, uh, illustrious history among mammals; I don't think what I'm doing here is really much different. A familiar scent gives me something to come home to; and it tells other people that this is mine, that I actively claim it.
So it also feeds in to taking up space: reminding myself that it's okay to speak without first apologising; that it's permitted to square my shoulders and occupy centre stage, rather than folding in on myself in a corner lest I get in the way (and trodden underfoot; and so on). This does, obviously, have its drawbacks: I need to think very carefully about the fact that I'm allergic to many common scent compounds, and to remember that just because a scent is fine for me doesn't mean it will be for everyone I interact with. This goes both ways: it reminds me to be respectful and compassionate towards others and myself.
And it changes my self-perception, or is possible because my self-perception is changing: because one of the threads running through my life at the moment - thanks be to the Fates - is, yes, reclamation. Reclamation of my body. Reclamation of my gender. Reclamation of space: to inhabit, in both literal and metaphorical terms. I am thinking a lot about the spaces available to us in terms of masculinities, femininities and androgynities - there's an essay in the works on the topic - and perfumes seem to me to be an excellent field in which to start.
Some people have expressed surprise when I've mentioned perfume: but perfume's feminine, they say, floral, not very... you. Is it?
If the assumptions were true, the premise would hold. But... they're not.
One of the things that surprises me, over and over again, is that the houses I'm buying from don't, by and large, gender: yes, where they mention it it's binary, but they take great care to say "for men and women", rather than "this is a MANLY MAN MAN MAN MAN MALE scent" and "~this is delicate and floral for the laydeez~". And the BPAL forums, similarly: people might say they consider a scent masculine or feminine, but you'll have different people saying both, and "neutral", for every scent reviewed. In person and online, people are willing to experiment: "this wasn't good on me, but was delicious on my SO," or vice versa. In the world of perfume I'm occupying, oppositional sexism seems to be well and truly dead: gender categories aren't rigidly defined as opposites, and movement between them is not only permitted but encouraged.
This is the work I want to do - to make it possible for people to make those journeys. And, for the first time outside explicitly social justice-conscious spaces - for the first time, in a space that's dominated by cis het people - I've come across somewhere that does that, automatically, without thinking.
in the land outside this social scene/the streets are filled with the gender police, say Jesus and His Judgmental Father - and it lifts my heart to find another social scene where that is not true.
And that is why I have fallen so hard for this hobby.
more on perfume
Apr. 3rd, 2013 08:10 pm(Bad days: I start out shaky from the pain and fatigue, go through being shaky from the opiates and fatigue, and by the time they've done their job I've forgotten what not being shaky is like - and I still don't particularly trust myself to move around the house - so it gets to 8pm before I put any sensible blood sugar in my mouth. At which point I go OH RIGHT IS THAT WHAT THE PROBLEM WAS.)
So I've mentioned that I'm starting to get into perfumery and the like.
This started out with being given an imp of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's A Wonderful Light: Three radiant ambers with honey, linden blossom, bourbon vanilla, and orange zest. The orange vanishes as soon as it's dried on my skin, and it ends up being a very rich vanilla-and-honey scent, with fleeting undertones from the amber developing with time.
And then Boything dragged me into a Penhaligon's, recently, and bought me Endymion:
I love Endymion. I love it to pieces. When it first goes on, it smells of apricots and vanilla on me, with something darker lurking underneath; after a few hours, it's mostly the leather, the pepper, the musk and the incense that come through, though the sage is still there if you're looking for it and there's a hint of nutmeg. If I'm struggling with insomnia, I'll put some on right before I go to bed, because it feels comforting and safe.
And... then I started thinking, and while fuzzy-headed today, I've spent a lot of time rummaging around BPAL's website, and various resale communities, and I've got a shortlist of things I'm trying to track down. I've focussed mostly on warm, dark scents, which is probably no surprise, but I've gone for a couple of brighter things too - and, of course, the set of Things That Smells Like The Celtic Fringes And Therefore Home. So now I'm going to make notes on the ones I'm after, and as and when I have bought them and they've arrived, I'll make notes about how they behave on me.
Part of why I'm suddenly so excited about this sort of thing is: I know dudes who use perfume. I know genderqueer people who use perfume. I've found a set of scents I really, really like on me, and I'm secure enough in my gender to have a play. The same's true of clothing - it's been a long, long process, but I'm finally getting to a place where I'm willing to experiment, and starting to realise that there's a way I want to dress for myself, not just to hide or to try to pass. And that's... very, very interesting to me; I'll try to make more sense out of it at some point when I'm less knackered. ;)
( The smells. )
So I've mentioned that I'm starting to get into perfumery and the like.
This started out with being given an imp of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab's A Wonderful Light: Three radiant ambers with honey, linden blossom, bourbon vanilla, and orange zest. The orange vanishes as soon as it's dried on my skin, and it ends up being a very rich vanilla-and-honey scent, with fleeting undertones from the amber developing with time.
And then Boything dragged me into a Penhaligon's, recently, and bought me Endymion:
Head Notes: Bergamot, Mandarin, Lavender and Sage
Heart Notes: Geranium and Coffee Absolute
Base Notes: Vetiver, Nutmeg, Black pepper, Cardamom, Musk, Leather, Sandalwood, Incense, Frankincense and Myrrh
I love Endymion. I love it to pieces. When it first goes on, it smells of apricots and vanilla on me, with something darker lurking underneath; after a few hours, it's mostly the leather, the pepper, the musk and the incense that come through, though the sage is still there if you're looking for it and there's a hint of nutmeg. If I'm struggling with insomnia, I'll put some on right before I go to bed, because it feels comforting and safe.
And... then I started thinking, and while fuzzy-headed today, I've spent a lot of time rummaging around BPAL's website, and various resale communities, and I've got a shortlist of things I'm trying to track down. I've focussed mostly on warm, dark scents, which is probably no surprise, but I've gone for a couple of brighter things too - and, of course, the set of Things That Smells Like The Celtic Fringes And Therefore Home. So now I'm going to make notes on the ones I'm after, and as and when I have bought them and they've arrived, I'll make notes about how they behave on me.
Part of why I'm suddenly so excited about this sort of thing is: I know dudes who use perfume. I know genderqueer people who use perfume. I've found a set of scents I really, really like on me, and I'm secure enough in my gender to have a play. The same's true of clothing - it's been a long, long process, but I'm finally getting to a place where I'm willing to experiment, and starting to realise that there's a way I want to dress for myself, not just to hide or to try to pass. And that's... very, very interesting to me; I'll try to make more sense out of it at some point when I'm less knackered. ;)
( The smells. )
