Happy birthday to jet_li_wannabe! We miss you, dude...
Hello to new reader intuition_ist!
Aw yeah. Definitely a chest cold. *hack* *cough* Otherwise... I never know how much detail to go into here. I could go into a major muscle group digression and never find my way out. Hm. Okay. It's hard to raise my arms over my head. Otherwise, the pain is not so bad, maybe a 4. I'm going to take a morning nap to try to catch up on that sleep-dep.
I did not need "Me and a Gun" to come on just now, thanks. *presses 'forward'* I really need to make a peppy Monday-morning mix.
Still haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this.
I am so anxious. I'm going through bouts of anxiety and calm, layering, rippling. Tonight will be *fine*. It's only the most important interview of my life (even though it's for a volunteer position). But it'll be fine.
I *need* to do this; my priestess-side tells me that I do. I am supposed to do this. The masochistic everything-happens-for-a-reason part of me says that maybe this is why I'm disabled - because if I was still working, I wouldn't have the *time* to do this.
This = volunteering for the local rape crisis center. Specifically, public outreach. The description:
CAPS educators conduct workshops, professional trainings, clothesline project displays as well as informational tables at health and education fairs. Audiences vary and include middle and high schools, colleges, universities, community groups, shelters, conferences and various service providers. Presentations include rape awareness, sexual harassment, rape drugs, dating violence and internet stalking.
This is - perfect for me. Thanks to conventions, I've been doing public speaking for years. I have nearly thirteen years between myself and the rape; I have picked up shattered bits of self and fused them into something new and stronger. And I can talk about it. I can communicate.
Please, please, let me help. *breathe*
It will be *fine*. I'm qualified, I have daytime available for these things (which I assume most volunteers don't, or at least don't *prefer*), I can talk. They will see this.
And I will do what I've wanted, needed, to do for years - I will help. I will educate, I will counsel. I will help. More than just blathering on the internet. Yes, helping the survivor is paramount, but what we need to do is not just nip this in the bud, we need to dig it out by the roots, and that's where this sort of position comes in - talking about it before it happens might mean it doesn't happen. It might make boys think twice. It might make girls pay more attention to their drinks, make them more careful online. We have a tacit acceptance of rape in our culture - you can see that woven all through our pop culture. This sort of position is one that puts me right there, able to talk about what happened to me, able to say "This is Wrong." No matter what happened in the movie you saw, no matter what Stephen Donaldson writes, this is Wrong, it's just short of murder. It's a murder that the victim has to live through, has to recover from - often feeling like she's totally alone in this, due to our society's code of silence regarding rape and sexual assault. I am okay. Some of these people do not get okay. It needs to stop.
And I'll shut up now. But yes. Clearly, I am passionate about this.
...I have no idea what to wear tonight. (EDIT: Settled on a black v-neck top (no look-at-my-boobs, no witty slogans) and a long white skirt with black appliqued flowers. Will wear simple earrings and ballet flats.)
A map of the tunnels under DisneyWorld.
A string theory cribsheet!
Skuld: Ylang ylang, honey, Egyptian and Arabian musks and labdanum.
In bottle: Mostly honey, with the other stuff behind it.
On me: The honey goes very light, becoming a note that sweetens the musk rather than one that dominates it. The ylang ylang is also very restrained, thank goodness.
Omen: Deep, mysterious, and full of dark portents: oakmoss, juniper berry, myrrh and patchouli.
In bottle: The juniper hits first, as always - but it's almost immediately cushioned by oakmoss.
On me: The juniper goes mild! It's buried in a haze of resin, patchouli with wisps of myrrh. The oakmoss vanishes. Aw. I liked the oakmoss. :(
Love Lies Bleeding: The velvet flower. A lush, thick, luxuriant bloom, bold and red.
In bottle: Unexpectedly... fruity?
On me: Yeah. This is fruity. Peculiar. And it's totally not the fruits I like. Bleh. *reads forum reviews* I don't get chocolate at all. Maybe... part of what I'm getting is fake-chocolate, like the flavor of chocolate-flavored-coffee; that always tastes stale-grape-y to me. But yeah. I don't get chocolate or rose. Just fruity, with slivered almonds on top.
Dance of Death: A gloriously elegant representation of Lady Death. Dry, bone-white orris, black musk, serpentine patchouli and our murkiest myrrh.
In bottle: Patchouli and orris.
On me: Huh. This is too *sweet*. Which is strange, because none of the notes listed tend to be sweet - save the myrrh, and that's not what this smells like. This is *syrupy*. And - that goes away. To something really dry, soft, and unpleasant... cave full of ancient bones, and a Death that hasn't showered in a while.