Book Store: These are all for me.

Thought I'd share with you my book store purchases today, and my thoughts, hopes, and dreams for each read.

#1 Republic, by Plato



What can I say about a book that was written in the fourth century, B.C.? It looks like a long conversation, which should at the least be readable for me as a format. I love asking myself questions and then answering my own question with a question. I also love stumping myself. Honestly, I get a spaghetti brain when it comes to politics and government, and it gets especially mushy when it comes to philosophy about such things. But there is hope, as I just flipped to a random page and the sentence read, "such a question is ridiculous." Hm, might be right up my alley.

To tell the vulgar truth I'm mostly reading this book to say that I've read it, but I have a lot of hope that I will be better for the reading. If it's too smart my head will explode, but that might not be so bad. There are worse things than a romantic woman reading Greek philosophy.

Like a romantic woman reading American science fiction.

#2 The Martian Chronicles, by Ray Bradbury


Ray Bradbury lived in Long Beach, or something. Okay, what I actually do know is that he came to the final day or days of Long Beach's long-suffering used book store Acres of Books.








I have never read Fahrenheit 451, or Something Wicked This Way Comes, but I have been interested in Ray Bradbury, and have a growing interest in science fiction. It might sound silly, actually, it's going to sound silly, but recently I watched a few Twillight Zones in a row, and I thought, you know what, I'm into this. I know what you're thinking, but Brooke, your story of interest in science fiction is so original and riveting, how could you even think of fighting your curiosity? I couldn't my friends, I couldn't. I especially love the idea that humans came to Earth from somewhere else. I suppose there is an echo of that idea in the story of humans who go to Mars. Either way, I needed an intro to this Long Beach loving, Acres of Books loving, Mars loving white dude.

#3 Confessions, by Saint Augustine



I have been reading the work of a few saints lately, like the works of St. John of the Cross, and St. Theresa of Avila. St. Augustine seems like a logical choice. What is very intriguing to me is St. Augustine's interpretation of the Genesis of the Hebrew Bible. I used to shy away from anything Saint-related, mostly because I get a very serious dread of religious war mongering, whether against a nation, people, or individual. The persecutions of the Inquisition haunt my dreams, and I think of Goya and his etchings, or Dante's inferno, and how so many so-called holy members of the Catholic church were very okay with torturing and such. But then I discovered works by Saints that were about faith, and about the personal search for the divine. I like those ones. I like personal struggle.

#4 The Big Red Book, by Rumi



I love Rumi because he loves the divine within. Reading his poetry is like taking off a heavy pack and laughing like a child. Each time that I ache for a lost love, or an old friend, I remember Rumi, and how his poetry teaches that this is yearning for the divine within. And how loves and friends can embody divine love. I love that his poetry is simple, and easy, and reads like it's plucked from the air, and descends in words that fall like swirls of ether.






#5 Monthly Notebook Diary/Planner 2012, by MOLESKINE

I need to know where my stuff is and when it is. But, I tend to like looking at a month in advance, so this little soft-sided book is perfect. I love MOLESKINE, of course, what English major doesn't. This one is good, and comes with tabs.

As I was leaving the bookstore, this cute little blond girl with freckles and a cute kid beanie and ugg boots and pigtails says, I go to such-and-such school and I am yadda-yadda-yadda, would you like your books wrapped? I smiled a big old smile and said thank you very much, but these are all for me.

Smells Like My Heart Feels

Scents are magical. Due to the olfactory senses that we possess with our three-dimensional body, we attach scent to memory, emotion, and idea. I can recognize the scent of my best friend in her clothes, the scent of my grandmother's house in a tablecloth; indeed, a memory tied to a scent can almost paralyze me if caught arbitrarily.

But scent doesn't have to work with memory in a strict, directly experiential sense. I have two people in my life whose signature or favorite perfumes always represent them, even if I didn't often smell them on their skin, or in intimate situations. The association is still strong.

I have never been one to have a signature scent, although for several years I wore Theirry Mugeler's Angel perfume. I wore it out, I think. Over time I just couldn't smell it the way I wanted to anymore. Several people tell me that that scent reminds them of me, but I can't smell it anymore. I wonder if certain perfumes change their recipe, or can't get the same ingredients over time, or something else scientific I can't imagine. My tastes might have simply changed. It is a bit sweet for me nowadays.

For the past few years true commitment to a single scent has eluded me. I want to smell something so incredible that I pledge allegiance to it forever, but it is difficult to find that one fragrance. I would love it even more if that scent was already classic and respected, like Chanel No. 5 or Eau de Joy. But these perfumes are too strong for me, and they remind me that there might have been a time when bodies were not as bleached as they are today; you know, like perhaps there were more organic smells to compete with when the perfume was originally invented. I don't really know. I will smell something that I think I enjoy, then I wear it and get a headache, or get nauseous after a few minutes.

A perfumer that I have grown attached to is Jo Malone. Out of London, Jo Malone's line boasts several single-note fragrances that can be layered and interchanged to make new scents. While most perfumes must have bottom, heart, and top notes all in one bottle, Jo Malone's line lets you create these layers from a variety of notes. My problem is that I often only like lighter notes. I am in love with Nectarine Blossom, and Orange Blossom. Recently I have expanded to Mint and Jasmine Blossom, which I like because it smells almost exactly like a gin and tonic with lime. They also recently came out with a line that smelled of various teas, and I was smitten.



Aren't they lovely?

Recently I stocked up on my usual assortment of Jo Malone, and Neiman Marcus gave me a lovely little rose bag filled with samples of new perfumes, from all different lines and designers. Out of the ten or so sampled I really liked this one, ORIENS, by Van Cleef and Arpel



It's a bit spicy for me, but I think I might have found my grown up perfume. It smells like a romantic hug, or a hug with an open heart, ready to experience anything. It smells like the way my heart feels at the symphony, or the way my heart feels when I read something magical. I suppose it could just be enough to say that it smells like how my heart feels when it is open and vulnerable and filled with light.

And that kind of statement underscores the reason why I think scent is magical. Our bodies that are so marvelous, these vehicles that get us there, and house this energy and ether, need scent to explain other experiences. I hope my time with ORIENS is magical, as I take it with me today to the coffee house and read and write.

Afterward:

I failed to mention that in some cases the desire to smell a certain way is influenced by the whims of a lover. So, I will also be testing out L'ESSANCE Balenciaga Paris.

Those Who Can't Do or Teach, Read

I find myself puzzled that after so many years of what felt like slaving away at college I am not wildly chomping at the bit to go to graduate school. At first, I was tired and overwhelmed at the thought of four to six more years. Now, I look at the cost, realize that I'm not in it for the career (although I may not mind a career in writing or teaching someday) and the cost is sufficient to waylay my desire for more education. I have to admit that for the most part I am in this for the learning, and not for the preparing for a job. However, should it become apparent someday that I need to have a career and need to amass an income, having such a background in literature and education would qualify me for a number of different things.

The thing is, I want to travel more than anything. So, there the money I can possibly save goes, to travel.

Still, can you imagine me, sitting around, growing stale, rotten? I still have a noodle hungry for words and ideas. I've set myself up rather nicely for pure, original idea making. That is, I have limited access to mind numbing television, have deactivated my Facebook account, and don't eat meat anymore. I have set the scene for reading. I have a great new coffee house which sits a refreshing two blocks away. It is time for some serious reading and writing. The kind I would do in graduate school -- well, maybe not the writing part. In graduate school I would have to write so many papers, and research ones at that. But I have faith that I might write a paper or two. Its early in this new reader stage of things. I have early, new venture hope.

My generous, beloved instructors have given me a reading list to satisfy the basics in literary theory and philosophy. Since I have already started Madwoman in the Attic, I will continue with it, as if it is required reading. After, I will move on to Focault. I have read a little teensy bit of Discipline and Punish, but I will buy and read the whole thing. I am actually very excited. To read and to write! These are my dreams.

Meanwhile, to continue reading and rereading Moby-Dick is enough literature for me.

Also, since I am off Facebook, I would like to add tabs to the top of my blog to share with you other lovely things that I love and am interested in, like travel, shopping, art, films, etc.

And, of course, I love you.