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Alright, so here we are. Decided to open the laptop rather than the tablet this morning - hoping that if I pick up the habit of choosing the tool that's better suited for creation rather than consumption, I might actually start writing more than just one liners. Although that may be all that I have today... but that's the beauty of any practice, it's a practice, and so while we are different each day, so will too be the output that we produce.

We'll see if it sticks.

Current Mood: pensive

it was unexpected, this time away from a work place. A little more than six months. I am not sure I've ever had this much time not working since my first job at age 16. The global meat grinder known as "the Pandemic" wore all of us down, stressed us all in ways seen and unseen, over the last two plus years. I was employed for the initial wave, actually was traveling for most of February 2020 and suspect I was exposed to the virus at a minimum and perhaps came down with a mild case right before the lockdown. But work didn't stop for me or for so many others employed in the tech space. I had been working remotely for seven years prior to January 2020 but there wasn't enough time to adapt to the new, local workplace we moved into before everything shut down. Remote work was what I was used to. I wasn't used to the deaths, or the sky turning orange, or the cloth masks, or a million other things we figured and felt our way through in the intervening months. Eventually, the vaccine arrived and with it came the hope of some normalcy, even if it wasn't a normal we were completely familiar with. But then came the Delta wave, and we hunkered down again for the summer. The layoff came at the beginning of September.

When I recovered from the shock of the layoff, I had a decision to make. How hard and how soon did I need to look for a new job? I halfheartedly applied to a position and was relieved when I didn't hear back. The truth was, I needed to step away. I was not well in spirit or mind or body; like so many of us, I hadn't had time to grieve and there had been so much to grieve. I halfheartedly applied to two more positions, had an initial interview for one of them. I wasn't upset when they said my skill set wasn't a match for their revised needs of the job. My friends wanted to help me, but they asked me what I wanted to do or how I wanted to spend my work day and I didn't have a ready answer.

I didn't know how I felt. I hadn't allowed myself to feel for so many months, because I learned feelings weren't helpful to me in a pandemic. I had too many other people and things to take care of, there wasn't time to feel.

But then, there was time. Unexpectedly, there was time.

I stopped worrying about what my next job was going to be. I stopped visiting LinkedIn, turned off all the job alerts I had signed up for. I played video games where I built cities or managed kingdoms. I solved puzzles. I found a great recipe for roasted chicken and made it often enough that I don't need the recipe anymore. I sat in a chair and stared out the window. A lot. Omicron came, the next wave of our Pandemic. I stopped the occasional indoor dining. I stayed in. Gained weight. Sometimes I tidied the house and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I listened to big band music, but often there was no music (which would be shocking to people who know me well). What was I listening to? Silence is what I was listening to. I was feeling my way back to myself.

The work would come in time, I knew, and I wanted to feel my way there, even if the path wasn't clear, even if I didn't really know what I wanted. I had friends who understood and supported this and I have walked enough journeys with myself to trust this feeling my way through. I may not know the end, but I know how to take one step forward at a time; with each step forward a new one appears. I treated myself gently and with trust.

Slowly, a new work future began to take form; one that felt right and aligned with the person I was becoming today. The person who had been given time to recover themselves from the wreckage of the last several years. It took a few months for the offer letter to arrive, and it arrived right on time, just as the bank account needed an upward trend after months of a downward one. The timing was clear, time to get back to work.

And so it begins again tomorrow morning.
And I am ready for the next chapter.

Current Mood: contemplative

I migrated this account to Dreamwidth - https://ayelienne.dreamwidth.org

The next (at least) four years sponsored by the Tea Party Coup of AmeriKKKa. Send monitors.

Current Mood: angry
Current Music: "Nazi Punks Fuck Off"

i've been spending way too much money on beauty things this past month; the words "drunken sailor" come to mind. Mostly I've been throwing money at Frederic Malle - It all started with a bottle of Portrait of a Lady, and the splurge purchase of Malle's Portrait of a Lady body butter has only complicated things in an enabling kind of way.

So, about a month ago, I fell in love with Portrait of a Lady when I stumbled onto it at the beauty counter at Barney's. I smelled it and knew it had to be mine. Love at first sniff. Described thusly on the Malle website:

A baroque, sumptuous and symphonic perfume that required hundreds of trials to balance such an expressive formula, Portrait of a Lady is undoubtedly the perfume containing the strongest ever dosage of rose essence and patchouli heart. Dominique Ropion composed an oriental rose, based on an accord of accord of benzoin, cinnamon, sandalwood, and, above all patchouli, musk and frankincense. A perfume evocative of sensuous beauty, that attracts people like a magnet. A modern classic.

First of all, it's unusual for me to find a rose-centric blend that I like. But! I'm a huge fan of frankincense, and I've learned that a patchouli note can smell like much more than just "stinky hippie." I wouldn't have chosen this based on the text description, but like all great art, words fail to communicate the experience. I didn't know what I was smelling, I just needed more of it in my life.

As I am wont to do when I fall in love with something, I obsessively research and try to find out as much as I can about said object of affection, which, in this case, included both the scent and the perfume house as a whole. This kind of focus tends to be all consuming for me, it's a function of an obsessive curiosity. Anyway, in the course of my research, I found there was scented body butter available. Suddenly, the most important thing in the world becomes my ability to slather myself from head to toe and become one with this fragrance. It's not the cheapest thing in the world, but when I told K how much I spent on the perfume, he was like, "you could have spent twice as much!" so now it kind of seems like I'm tossing in the body butter for free, in a slightly demented rationalization kind of way. I also added a small travel sample of "Dans tes Bras" because why not, then clicked the "checkout" button.

A week later, my body butter arrives and it's insanely good. Like, magical good. Like, it smells amazing, like eye roll back into my head amazing, and my parched skin drinks in the moisture like nobody's business, transforming from lizardlike, California drought skin to radiant and silky smooth, beautifully fragrant skin. Wow. Yes. I am transformed. I glide through the house, throwing mad sillage as I walk up to K and say, "My stuff came! Here, touch my arm, it's so soft." He obliges, eyes grow wide, and says, "wow!" I say, "Yeah, right?! Amazing." He marvels and gets a dreamy look in his eyes. He then says, "so, how much was it?" I say, "guess.." 400 dollars! he guesses; I say no. 500! I say no, with a smile. He looks a little worried and shouts, "700!" "No!" Yes, this is good, I like his guessing, because now 200$ feels cheap! I tell him it was $215, and he looks at me and says, "your skin can feel that good for 200$? Do they have more? You need to get another one!" So, really, what's a gal to do but buy some travel sizes in order to identify which body butter to get next? It's like a moral imperative at this point. There are four primary contenders: Musc Ravageur (might be too much cinnamon); Dries Van Noten (vanilla/sandalwood sound perfect!); Iris Poudre (highly unlikely but could be a dark horse); and Carnal Flower, which

mafdet has first dibs on since she got a bottle of that the same time I got PoAL, but I couldn't pass up the notes in Carnal Flower as a potentially outstanding body butter option (Tuberose! Coconut! Orange blossom! Yeah, I could slather that!)

I also got some Slumberhouse samples at last; they are a perfume house out of Portland. I have a bottle of Zahd from them, but haven't experienced anything else from their line. Another line where full bottles aren't cheap; very glad I found a place online that had samples available (Twisted Lily, who do great customer service, btw).

I've also been revitalizing my makeup. I've decided to become a red lipstick person for the next decade or so; if it's good enough for French women, it's good enough for me. It's simple, yet looks really elegant when done right. It's been a little bit of trial and error to find the "perfect" go-to daily red, but I think I finally found it - Bobbi Brown's Luxe Lip Color in Parisian Red. It's got a little bit of shine and not a trace of a blue undertone.

Here's me theoretically posting an update.

Profoundly saddened by the news of the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. He was so crazy talented that it felt good to know you were alive at the same time that he was, that there were roles yet to be, that he was not only among the greatest, he was "ours" in the same weird way that Kurt was "ours." Maybe no one here gets out alive, but there are definitely some we hope stick around with us longer than others. I know no addicts who aren't tortured by their addiction, and while it is cold comfort, there is no more torture to be had by his soul. We are simply left with a gaping hole in the fabric of the universe where PSH used to be.

Countless roles to be inhabited by lesser talents, countless awards never to be given, countless words never written, countless emerging talents unmentored. What a loss the arts have suffered today.

Officially kicked off my musical holiday season today. Am playing my "Winterpalooza" 421-song playlist of holiday tunage.

Current Mood: cheerful

I don't know what happened, but there was a man in a neck brace on a stretcher and blood in the driveway. It brought out a police car, a decent sized fire truck and an ambulance. All in front of our house. And we were hanging out in the back of the house and never heard a thing.

I bought Skype Premium recently, since I'm using Skype so much for work and really like the group video chat functionality. I finally took a look to see what other Premium features were available. They had 50% discount on Skype numbers, which are local telephone numbers for your Skype account.

So... I went ahead and bought myself a Skype number for the next 12 months, which is not really noteworthy excepting the fact the local number I selected is in London, UK.

Moment of madness?
Waste of money?
Impetuous whimsy?
Impromptu Experiment?
A hint to the universe?

I have no idea.
But, you know, really - why not?
:)

Current Mood: giddy

I've put several bottles, mostly full and a few partials, up on eBay - Here's the link to my auctions page. Auctions end Thursday, May 30. Auctions are US only, since the post offices are twitchy about shipping perfumes overseas.

Here's the list, all items are full to at least label top or higher, unless otherwise noted.

13 - June 2008 (green label)
13 - July 2012 (angel label/Brian's blend)
Beltane 2008
Bly
Chaos Theory V: Penitence #XC
Chaos Theory VI: The Vanilla Series #405
Desiccated Frostberry Pie Filling (50% full)
Epistrophia
Frost at Midnight
Gemini 2007
Juke Joint (paper label)
Luna Azul
Luna Negra
Marotte
Medical Procedure
Monsterbait: Closet (40-45% full)
Montresor (40-45% full)
Moon of the Terrible 2009
Nightmare
Staged Moon Landing
The Ragged Wood
The School

Super dorkily excited about seeing Ken Stringfellow tonight :)

If I were to have reviewed Ken's latest solo outing,Danzig in the Moonlight, I'm sure I'd have been as effusive with praise as this review: http://www.rocksucker.co.uk/2012/08/review-ken-stringfellow-danzig-in.html?m=1

I saw an article with the promising title: Should You Leave Your Job? One Way to Avoid Career Regret

I skimmed it, and ultimately, saw nothing that really encouraged people to make the leap; rather, it provided reasons to maybe stay.

Dunno about you, but I've found more often than not, people find themselves stranded in jobs they don't want, but need to have to pay the bills or whatnot. They don't need reasons to stay, they need encouragement and a plan to put into place the things that will get them out of their unhappy situation.

One Way to Avoid Career Regret is to move on.

So, if you want to read that article, go for it.

I won't be linking to it.

Current Mood: okay

Hello lovelies!

I've recommitted myself to writing more long-form stuff in 2013; and so voila, here I be.

Uhm....

Here's a picture of a clown who got to meet me when I was small:

Is anyone else playing Guild Wars 2?

Current Mood: curious

Kate Bush - "December Will Be Magic Again"

October 4th, 1984. Cleveland, Ohio. The Fixx.

This was my first show. Technically, calling it "my first show" is a bit of a misnomer, as I'm not including the shows my parents took me to (of which I remember seeing Kenny Rogers, and also Lionel Richie w/ Tina Turner opening), but the first show that I got to go to on "my own" was The Fixx on their 1984 "Phantoms" tour stop in Cleveland, a distant 45-minute car ride from our Akron suburb. "My own" actually meant that my best friend Melanie and I had conspired to successfully persuade our parents to drive us up to the show - her parents drove us up and mine drove us back, if I remember correctly. I don't remember if we had to bring him or if he was invited, but Mel's little brother was also coming with us to the show. But still, we get to go to the show all by ourselves! We were both fifteen, and this was the coolest thing in the world - we are going to a show!

BY OURSELVES (and little brother, but whatever)!

I remember we got to the show, say goodbye to the parents and the three of us unload ourselves from the minivan and wade cautiously into the throng of people huddling in front of the doors of the grand Music Hall.

I've got my ticket in hand, Mel has hers, and her brother..her brother. Wait, where's your ticket?

What do you mean, you lost your ticket?

Somewhere from the handing out of tickets in the backseat and walking ten steps into the throng, little brother lost his ticket. Oh crap. Now what? No cell phones in 1984. I can already hear my mom: "I said you aren't old enough to go" after she hears about this - not sure what his losing his ticket had to do with my age, but still, she'll say something, I'm sure of it. This is bad. What are we going to do? Mel and I are not happy. Mel is furious, in fact. Still, we can't leave him out front in the cold and go to the show by ourselves. But if we pool our money, we can buy him another ticket. But if we buy another ticket, he'll be sitting somewhere totally different than us, which defies the "You three stay together" rule laid down by the parents. Speaking of, what are they going to say when they find out he lost his ticket? We dread facing them. Hi kids, how was the show? You look cold. Were you standing outside long?

What do you mean, you lost your ticket?

Oh yes, this will end our concert-going days, fer sure, like totally!

I can't remember if we cooked up this solution ourselves or if some veteran show goer or a worker person helped us out, but we figured out we could go ahead and buy him another ticket, then he could sit with us in his originally assigned seat and all would be well. We were still totally upset at his uncoolness and the fact that the replacement ticket cost one of us a Fixx t-shirt. But at least we had a plan, and no one needed to freeze outside or miss the show. And thank god, the show wasn't sold out. We headed over to the ticket window and bought little brother a replacement ticket.

We then make our way to our seats, little brother and his balcony ticket in tow, then settle in and check out the surroundings. Cute guy alert! Two boys - sitting right near us. They are talking to us! We lie and tell them we are 16. I remember they asked us if we liked The Smiths. Of course, yes, we love The Smiths! (And made a mental note to find out about this Smiths band, because these older boys who were talking to us were super cute and cool and were at a Fixx show, and The Smiths were from the UK, so what else did we need to know?) It was all a bit thrilling, this going to a show business, and the show hadn't even started yet. And then the show started.

I can't remember who opened for The Fixx that night, but I do remember that I was thoroughly impressed by The Fixx and I loved the show. And I loved the cute boys who flirted with us at the show. And I knew I needed to go to another show.

I don't remember if we ever told our parents about little brother's missing ticket.

Here's a video from a different night on the same 1984 tour.

I just unlocked Jan 2000 - Feb 2002 posts.

http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/3242 was an old address.

I just unlocked 1996-1999 posts.

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Retail Therapy. Smelling good. Red Lipstick. Reinvention.

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The Fixx - Cleveland, OH 10/4/1984

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