I find it incredible that we can liquefy and bottle the scent of a plant, like we’re using science to serve poetry. Anyways. I’ve written before about using oil to clean your face, but I’m always discovering new ways to employ these little miracles:
- To freshen up clothing. I don’t know about you, but I have to go to a laundromat and in the dead of winter, I find all sorts of excuses to postpone washing my clothes. Today I used a few drops of rosemary oil to freshen up my coat (on the wrists, inside the arms, and around the collar). I like to use rosemary for this because it smells a little antiseptic, thus giving the impression of cleanliness. Not that I’m dirty… I’m just, well, a little Euro in my ideas of how often clothes should be washed.
- As perfume. Lavender oil is one of the only ones you can apply directly to your skin without dilution. I put a drop on my wrist, on my neck, and a bit in my hair in the morning. It’s floral without being too cloying, and a little earthy — just what I want in a scent. Also, compare a bottle of this, at (on average) $5 to a bottle of perfume that costs $100, and there’s no contest.
- In your bath. While I love bubbles, salts and bombs I can’t help but enjoy simple, fragrant waters best.
- As a soothing treatment. If you have some time to spare, you should read about how to use essential oils as treatments for aches and pains, etc. I use a little bit of tea tree oil when I’m doing self-pedicures because it helps clear away impurities and strengthens the nail. (Don’t drink it, though, it’s toxic when ingested!) I’ve found that rosemary helps relieve headaches and promotes alertness.
- Against swooning. Sometimes it’s just hard to get up off the chaise lounge, you know?
It’s surprising, the ways in which you discover you are not ready to write about something yet.
You realize that you’ve had your hand in the chip bag for the past month.
That you’ve returned to those moments of childlike despair that you thought were far behind you.
You realize that your sadness, which you have been blaming on the weather, on the 51 inches of snow you’ve seen already this winter (and it’s only beginning), on the always-damp boots you’re always struggling to pull on, actually comes from that place inside you that isn’t ready to be seen.
That’s a powerful feeling, that I do not want to be seen. It’s a feeling that hid in the bedroom for years. It’s a feeling that continues to hide.
I’ve been poking at it for the past month. Relentlessly. I’ve also been nursing it with junk food and ridiculously long naps. I think the nursing is going to win out. I’ll let it be, for now. I’ll let it slumber a little longer.
So wild flowers will come up where you are.
You have been stony for too many years.
Try something different.
"If I choose the side of the victim every time, I will likely be right more often than any other choice I make in my entire life. Those are odds I can live with. Those are the odds I choose. I am comfortable with that choice. I am prepared for the consequences of that choice. I practice self-care."-
From “Help Me Pull the Trigger” by Ashley Ford: http://www.ashleycford.net/blog/2014/2/3/help-me-pull-the-trigger (via therumpus)
That’s all I have to say about that.
"I will be dying and so will you, and so will everyone here. That’s what I want to explore. We’re all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we’re going to die, each of us secretly believing we won’t."- Philip Seymour Hoffman in Synecdoche, New York. (via balltillifall)
I have a lot of dreams about celebrities. Once, in a dream, Hugh Jackman complained that all of my pants fit me wrong and made me put on every pair and model it before a council. In another, I was running a marathon through a field of rolling hills. Picnic blankets were spread edge to edge. Brad and Angelina, wearing sunglasses, watched me as I galloped senselessly, loose-limbed like a child, over rocks and around narrow bends. I woke up out of breath.
Last night, I was having dinner in a large, cluttered house. I was me — quiet, awkward, wondering at every turn whether I had said the wrong thing or made a fool of myself. Yet, Leonardo DiCaprio was infatuated with me. He simply couldn’t wait to get me alone and kiss me silly. We sat on the couch. I blushed. Before we could find a quiet place, I woke up.
I’m pretty sure that most of these dreams stem from my weird relationship with authority, but last night, my ten through seventeen-year-old selves were pretty pleased.
Okay, my current self was pretty pleased, too.
"If we were to judge nature by its common sense or likelihood, we wouldn’t believe the world existed."- Annie Dillard