Review: Lolita Lempicka

I have, as dictated by my Day Zero Project, indulged in buying one awesome, expensive bottle of perfume.

(I realize that these types of "goals" are self-indulging and not that straining at all, once you collect the money, but it's my list, so woohoo for me, no?)

I had, previoulsy, bought another bottle of Lolita Lempicka's gorgeous perfumes, named "Fleur Defendue", which I also loved - the smell reminds me of jewellery, somehow. Since I'm not all that good at describing smells, I can only tell you that it made me feel luxurious and that is was just right: not too harsch a smell, but still noticable.

And the bottle is totally cute.

Even though I am a phase-type person, who tends to stick to the same things for very long periods of time, and I do this with perfume as well - White Musk by The Body Shop is awesome - I felt that for something this expensive, it's probably worth it to switch every once in a while. Sort of like: "I am going to spend a lot of money because LL is F-ing good, BUT I may as well try a different scent of hers." I satisfies my need for the familiar while simultaniously making me feel daring, in a sexy type way.
(Dammit, this is my blog, I don't need to make sense if I don't want to.)

So I went to the INNO, which has all sorts of things I'm mainly uninterested in, but also lots of different perfumes, and resolved to try all LL's scents, using The Boyfriend as a judge of what to pick. There was a perfect understanding between myself and The Boyfriend that, despite his overt role as a judge, I was still to decide and that he was not to quarrel with me about this. All was well in the world.

Except it stood there for 20 minutes before the perfume lady came to my assistance and explained that, for LL only, all the bottlecaps had been removed because apparently, people break or steal them.

Anyhoo, I picked the coral box with the heart-shaped bottle in it (which has no name. This annoys me not because I feel all perfumes should have a name, but because I feel that you shouldn't have more than one nameless perfume in your line. LL has two or three.) which agains, smells luxurious.

Again, totally cute bottle. Detecting a pattern here? I want all of them.

The scents lasts for hours, which is good, because I am not in the habit of taking very expensive glass botlles of perfume along with me, and I prefer to smell good all day long, not just for two hours.

In packaging and general feel, Lolita Lempicka perfumes remind me of Jelly Pong Pong, a make-up brand, which also does the quirky, sexy, fairy-tale like thing and makes me feel like Reality doesn't really NEED to kick in all the time. I can be a princess if I choose to be, can't I? Yes. Yes I can.

Speaking of Jelly Pong Pong, I have indulged.
Well, technically, buying anything Jelly Pong Pong is indulging by definition, because they're quite expensive.
(That, by the bye, is my only criticism of this wonderful brand, which is very high quality, with very pretty and fairy-tale like packaging)
On Friday, I will receive a package from the wonderful Alice&Jo (from Alice&Jo's havesentials webshop) with some extra lip balms (I go through them like crazy!), Barry M's yellow nail polish (to match my cute new dress) and: Jelly Pong Pong!

"Goumet Lip Therapy: Real Honey": doesn't that sound like a hundred dollars? It does to me.

I am not spending any more money this month.
Well, except on books maybe. But that's it. And it's my once-a-year spree. So, you know, I'll talk myself into not feeling guilty.

I also donate to UNICEF now, so it's not completely selfish?

Oh. My. GAWD.

My darlings!

I have shamefully neglected you.

In my defence: tons of stuff was going on, which I will detail to you right now, hoping you will find it in your heart to forgive me.

First of all, there were my exams.
I really went for it this time (good, because I had eight instead of the usual six and my schedule was rather... fucked-up.)
Long story short, I finally got rid of my freshman courses, which is a relief on its own. Passed 3 of my 6 second-year courses, which leaves me with 3 re-sits, which I'm actually quite satisfied with. Actually got a 14 (out of 20) for my favourite course! Woop!

Second, Ze Grand Movin'. It is done.
Finished my exams on Monday the 22nd and spent the three subsequent days painting. Alone, because The Boyfriend was working. Didn't turn out quite as good as I hoped because the previous layer of paint started peeling off. So we're doing some of it again in September, when we find the time.
On Friday and Saturday, there were two equally vexing and exciting trips to IKEA, in which - we thought - we got all of our furniture. It was only on Sunday that we realised we have no bathroom closet and all our shampoo &c stuff is now in bags until we find the time to get back on that. However, we have very pretty (and relatively inexpensive) furniture right now, and are very pleased with the spaciousness of The Apartment.

Thirdly, Ze Garden, which you knew we would have, because, well, I told you: it is quite barren. The ground is very dry and very very rock-filled, for lack of a better world. It has been decided that we should just scoop out most of the ground (including rocks) and bring in new - fertile - earth before we are able to magically make grass and flowwers appear.
I'm thinking lavender and some herbs (thyme, rosemary,...).

Speaking of which, we had some company over yesterday, which consisted of my father, stepmother, oldest stepbrother + girlfriend, my sister and youngest stepsister. I was very nervous for no good reason at all and am now very well pleased.

Dad has offered to help with the garden (two weeks from this sunday) and will then be bringing a new kitten.

Ay, a new kitten.
Typhus has been quite restless and strangely longing for affection, and we decided (me more than The Boyfriend, but he came around) that a playmate would probably be good for him.
We are still debating names, but so far, Chaos, Brein (which is Dutch for Brain) and something else, which was suggested late last night and I don't remember, are on the shortlist.

Talking of lists: I am, of course, still working on my Project Day Zero, and will update you on progress in a separate post, so as to maintain an overview.

I hope this post has a least put you all at ease that I am not, in fact, deceased and will keep on writing.

Have a nice days, everybody :)

E's Extraordinarily Eloquent Extravaganza: SteamCream Saves The Day!

I'm very sorry for the shortness of this post. But you see, I'm too busy bathing in aftersun lotion to come up with something elaborate, so this'll have to do.

As you might've deducted, I have a terrible case of sunburn. Which is horrible. Last time I looked this red was when I fell asleep on the beach, and couldn't sleep on my back for two weeks.

It's my own fault. I got cocky. I was so convinced that I wouldn't burn, I didn't bother to find some sunscreen. Unfortunately, the tiny insignificant fact that I didn't burn because of the sunscreen apparently slipped my mind.

And now I look like this.

Well, not quite like a baby in a lobster costume. Though that costume is adorable, and if I had kids, I'd totally let them wear it to school, weddings, funerals, and other inappropriate places. No, I was just trying to make a colour-related point.

Don't worry. I'm not going to bore you to death with details of how red I really am, and how my skin changes colour when you press it, and how it'll probably all start peeling off in a couple of days. That wasn't the point. The point, darlings, is this.

Remember SteamCream?

Of course you do...

Turns out it's not only a lifesaver for those of you who are, like me, cursed with very dry skin. It's also great in case of sunburn!

I was feeling a bit hesitant to just start rubbing aftersun lotion on my face. The lotion is greasy and way too scented. You know, the feeling you get when someone hits you in the head with a bottle of perfume? That feeling. Works just fine on my body, but my face would hate me for the rest of my life, and punish me with pestilence, war, famine and death - an allergic reaction. Luckily I discovered the small sample tin of SteamCream I had left here. And it really does miracles. I'd love to use it on all my burnt spots (which is actually the entire front side of my body, with the exception of a white dress-shape), but since that sample has to last until I get home (aka: the current residence of my full-sized tin), I save it for my face.

It's incredibly soothing (even more so than my real aftersun lotion), very moisturizing, and my face already looks MUCH better than the rest of my body. The red is disappearing quite fast (leaving a lovely tan behind ^^), and my skin feels a lot less painful.

So. Don't have a tin of your own yet? Go buy one! It's creamy heaven in a tin, AND multipurpose!

Negligence!

I am SO sorry for my horrible negligence of you all!

But I do have a reason!
I mentioned in my previous post the upcoming exams (only three more days o.O), which is part, but not all, of the reason why my posts have been so sparse.

I have been working on The Paper Of Death, Destruction and Devastation. (concept NOT stolen from E's previous Paper Of Doom!).

Tell me, dear reader, if you have to make a hypothesis about something, what would your first question be?
You have raw data. That's about it.
You have interpreted said data to the best of your abilities.

Now hypothesize!

You can't, can you?

WHY?

Because in order to derive a falsifiable statement from a set of data, you need a theory, a framework to look at those data.
If you don't HAVE a theory, or even a research question, how on Earth are you supposed to make a hypothesis?
Answer: you can't.

Which was my dilemma for the past five days.

But now, The Paper Of Death, Destruction and Devastation is finished. The e-version has been sent (and safely received, I dare say) and the real version will be commited to an uncaring mailbox in the morning.

Unfortunately, being so preoccucpied with said Paper, I lost track of my studying schedule and am now woefully behind, with no way to catch up. I only have two full days to study Clinical Psychodiagnostics (the psychoanalytic course, which is awesome), and so I'm... well, fucked, really.

These exams will not rest until they have sucked all the life force out of me, and so, I take leave of you, barring short posts when I find the time, until June 22rd.

(I will, however, post something every week just to make sure that E's Extra& doesn't take over my entire blog :D)

Goodnight.

E's Extraordinarily Eloquent Extravaganza: Fighting Mr. Stress

I’m a very stressed person. It runs in the family. Not that that can be used as a real excuse, but still. It’s true. And even if it weren’t, sometimes I just feel the need to convince myself that I’m not to entirely to blame for being annoying when things get superduper-busy.

The past few months have been very busy, and the ones still to come will probably be even worse. I barely survived getting kicked out of our apartment, managing all my deadlines at once, and looking for a new place to live. Now that all those things are arranged, I have finals and the hassle of moving to look forward to. And after that: more studying.

Don’t get me wrong. I love studying, I love the anticipation of moving (the moving itself: not so much, this being my seventh time or so, and I’m getting quite sick of it), and I love having something to do when I wake up, instead of just feeling lazy and unorganized the entire day. But not all at the same time. It drives me crazy.

So yes. All that, plus my genetic predisposition (…in my mind…) equals stress. And lots of it.

Which raises questions. And lots of them. The most important one being:

“What the poo can I do to calm down?”

Because, let’s face it. I’m not a nice person to be around when I’m stressed. I’m over-emotional, I’m grumpy and I panic. Which is all made much much worse by the fact that Mr. Stress doesn’t allow me to even get near my much needed 8 hours of sleep a night. And on top of that, I get an incredibly annoying, itchy red rash on the inside of my right arm. Always. So basically I’m being a tired whiney bitch while scratching my skin open. Sounds fun, doesn’t it kids?

I’ve tried to find some nice, stress-relieving stuff-to-do. I’ve tried everything. But to my surprise, few things actually helped. Yoga makes me feel like an idiot. Which isn’t exactly the most relaxing feeling ever. Since it’s virtually impossible for me to empty my head (seriously, I just can’t do it; I’m obviously not made to have an empty head, which is not THAT bad, if you think about it), meditation is also out of order. Going for a nice, relaxing walk? No can do. It makes me feel guilty to the point that I stay up way past my bedtime (which is, by the way, much too late as it is), to make up for lost time. So what’s left? I could go for a lovely early morning run. I’ve done it, and it helps. But I always seem to find an excuse not to. The horrible Belgian weather is my current favourite.

Like this, but less umbrellas, and more icky wet jeans.

Then what do I do?

I cook. Cooking is my meditation. It’s relaxing, and the only thing where I actually manage to focus on one thing, instead of multi-tasking the hell out of it.
I drink tea. And lots of it. Tea has always made me feel safe and homey, which is exactly the kind of feeling I need. It’s like being wrapped in a nice, warm, tea-scented blanket. I have my mother to thank for that.

At night, I fall asleep with the TV on. It’s the only way to avoid the otherwise unavoidable “thinking about all the horrible things that might happen” in bed.
And I promise I’ll start my morning runs again when I get back home. I’ll even drag The Boyfriend along.

But other than that, I’m stuck. The day I run out of tea and ingredients, I’m fucked. Needless to say, I'm always looking for decent alternatives and new ideas... So tell me: what gets you through your stressful periods? Enlighten me!

Meet Blob.

Today, I am happy to report, I am but two short weeks away from my first of eight (!!) finals. Well, not happy because of finals, because they make me nervous, but happy because I finally got my game face.
Only it's not a game face as much as a "go go go studying" disposition, but there's not fancy term for that, so let's call it my game face, shall we? Or Blob. We can call it my Blob. I'm cool with that.

Like this, only not slimy.

Two weeks seems very short for University level finals, especially eight of them, but believe you me, the Blob doesn't usually kick in until they've started. So this is a major breakthrough in Sadoville right here.

I am going through material from even the boring classes, which is something I've a tendency to postpone until the last minute - or, if I actually go through them beforehand, it's in bits and pieces when I just force myself.
Now, it's going good. Oh yeah.

Also, I like it.
I like getting stuff. I like reading new stuff and thinking "oh wow, this has to do with the other stuff from that other class!". Makes me feel smart.
Smart doesn't work out for me so very well now that I'm in Uni, since I lazy-bones'ed my way through high school, not actually studying once, never once getting nervous about a test or exam.
Paying attention in class has always been enough for me.
I'm not saying I'm a genius, far from it, but I've always regretted not being challenged in high school.
System in Belgium is you pick a general form of education from a limited set of choices. I did Latin-modern languages.
Which, in retrospect, wasn't very smart of me, because I'm good at languages, so I ended up correcting the English teacher. Not very challenging (though fun!). I think it's a big fault of our educational system to stress the whole "if you can handle it, take it" thing, instead of the "look, you're not going to be studying in this line of study, so why don't you pick lots of math?" thing.

Anyway, the result of all that is I arrived at Uni first year, and did absolutely nothing.
I came around now, but since I have to retake two courses from my first bachelor year, I know am behind in my second. Which automatically means I'm behind on my third. And if I don't finish THAT next year, I can't transfer any courses to the next year. Because 4th year is the 1st year of our master. And you can't mix those.
Which means that for as little as 1 tiny subject, I could get behind on my classmates for a year.
Which means I'm fucked.

You see where the nerves kick in?

But! I'm ranting again.
Point is: I finally kicked off finals-month, and it's going good.
I'm in Tah Zone, which is basically endorphins being released - the body's way of saying "Why thank you!"

Yes, I am sure this is a faithful rendition.

I may post less frequently from now until June 22nd, but at least you'll know why.
I'll try to keep up :)

Goodnight.

Stories

I can't do it.
I can't just post a ranting post and disappear.
I was so pissed off I didn't even twitter about it. It is a blemish.

So here's my real post for today.

I noticed my writing has gotten somewhat more elaborate. Being a nervous little creature, this made me wonder: do I sound cocky?
Because I used to.

I re-read my old diary from when I was 15/16.
I was young, and kind of unhappy (miserable), and thought a lot of myself. As a very wise man once put it: "I am not young enough to know everything." Well, at that point, I was convinced I knew a whole lot. I was a melodramatic whino, really.

Meet 16-ish-year-old Sado, not yet using that name (which, by the way, is an inside joke and doesn't mean I'm into hardcore BDSM), all goffik and "intellectual".
I could show you a picture... but I won't.

I'm torn between laughing and crying when I re-read those pretentious, long drawn sentences. I re-read them occasionally, a page at a time because that's all I have the balls for.

My point here (yes, I have one! Don't look at me like that!) is that sometimes - actually, more often than not - we look back on our smug old selves and are embarrassed. I still haven't written any poetry since that time.
(I was told it was good.
E, The Cousin and I were in constant disagreement over whose was better.)

That feeling of embarrassment for the smug sentences of my 16-year-old self make me wonder: will I be embarrassed likewise, when as a 25- or a 30-year-old I look back on my writing of today? I think I will. Is that a bad thing? I'm not sure. I mean, it does indicate growth, doesn't it? Even if just a little. Nevertheless, it's not a fun feeling, mostly because suddenly, you're convinced that at the time, everybody was laughing at you behind your back.
Which triggers the paranoid idea that people are laughing at you behind your back now, when you think you're not so ridiculous anymore.

Or is that just me?

I should just let go.
This blog is one of the first things I've written in about 3 years. No more poetry (even though I can assure you it was all teenage angst), no more stories, no more novels.
I think about writing sometimes, but I'm not sure I have a good story to tell.
The only story I do have is my own, and I'm not always sure how to look upon it. Furthermore, will people want to hear it? Will they want to take time to read about it?

Vanilla Tea was made as a try-out, to see if I still got it. The magical, metaphorical it. And more to the point, if I did, whether or not I could keep up with it.

I think my 30-something-th post proves that I'm alright for continuance. It's a habit now, which is good.
Can I deal with a story? Do I tell my own, and if so, how and in what light? Do I tell someone else's? Isn't that stealing?
I read a lot, but can I write?

And more importantly: If I write something, will I be ashamed of it later on?

Just asking questions is all.

Sweet dreams, loves.