Two happy things.
I went a little bit overboard while I was in town today. I came home with no fewer than seven different things that will make me or my house or my bathwater smell amazing. Some of them I can combine; others are best on their own. I'd blame this on playing a character possessed of hyperactive, constantly-hungry senses, but as all of her sensory tics and obsessions are just mine ramped up to 11, that's not an excuse that'll hold water. :D
I can now, if I so choose, smell of rosemary, citrus and spices; of smoky sandalwood and honey, or of cherry blossom for a very different mood. Some of these scents will be claimed by characters, some will be just for me. And when I put them on they'll remind me of nights under the stars, of being beside myself with drama, of being hopeful or flirtatious or gleefully horrid, with all the pleasant distraction and encouragement those memories bring.
The other day I was thinking of mine and lordofthewheel's wedding, and Shenanigans, and all the other brilliant parties I've been to in recent years, and it struck me how different my life is now from how it was ten years ago - five years ago, even. Look at us now - all us kids who had no friends at school, all us teenagers who felt they'd got lost on the wrong planet, us twentysomethings who threw no birthday parties because we knew nobody would show up, us lonely students who lived vicariously through the internet wondering when our lives would start, or if we'd ever find love, or if we were irredeemably broken - look at us now. We're building tribes, making friends, losing friends, picking each other up, breaking hearts, raising families, weaving relationships in new shapes that suit us, and maybe we won't die alone, after all. We've turned out all right. We're going to be okay.
I can now, if I so choose, smell of rosemary, citrus and spices; of smoky sandalwood and honey, or of cherry blossom for a very different mood. Some of these scents will be claimed by characters, some will be just for me. And when I put them on they'll remind me of nights under the stars, of being beside myself with drama, of being hopeful or flirtatious or gleefully horrid, with all the pleasant distraction and encouragement those memories bring.
The other day I was thinking of mine and lordofthewheel's wedding, and Shenanigans, and all the other brilliant parties I've been to in recent years, and it struck me how different my life is now from how it was ten years ago - five years ago, even. Look at us now - all us kids who had no friends at school, all us teenagers who felt they'd got lost on the wrong planet, us twentysomethings who threw no birthday parties because we knew nobody would show up, us lonely students who lived vicariously through the internet wondering when our lives would start, or if we'd ever find love, or if we were irredeemably broken - look at us now. We're building tribes, making friends, losing friends, picking each other up, breaking hearts, raising families, weaving relationships in new shapes that suit us, and maybe we won't die alone, after all. We've turned out all right. We're going to be okay.