What happened to the days when I wrote two or three posts? Or even one a day? I've been feeling as if I have nothing to say lately. Now, periodically I write an entry where I say that I need suggestions, and instead of taking any, I suddenly become prolific. Somehow, I don't think that's going to happen this time (but we'll see, won't we?).
My thoughts have been dry. Today, I'm wearing Guerlain's Jicky, and as I'm feeling quite tired, I'm enjoying it's sharp, crisp scent. That's all I have to say about it. Not very entertaining, eh?
I started using an anti-inflammatory gel for my arthritis. Now, this is the most boring of subjects, but the gel must be measured out on these little strips of paper so that one gets the dosing right. There's an entire booklet that comes with the prescription. In the past, I might have written an entire entry about this arthritic gel. I have enjoyed making mountains out of molehills and finding deep meaning in the littlest things in life. Lately, I see the little strips of paper as just that - little strips of paper. Yawn.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not depressed at all. I'm in a very good mood. I wonder if that's the problem. It's certainly been a suspicion of mine for years that a certain kind of depression increases my creativity. I'm afraid it might be true.
Uh oh.
Maybe I shouldn't have put the Jicky on this morning. I had had bad night's sleep, waking up at 4:00am to a lot of pain and a (thankfully) short-lived wave of intense emotional distress. When, at 7:30, I awoke to a better mood and a whole lot less pain, I was tired. I eschewed the usual suspects of scents I've been wearing lately and reached for the Jicky, thinking it would keep me buoyed up for the day, and it has. I even used it in a purely aromatherapeutic way as I was driving. I have a small roll-on bottle and I held it up to my nose. The car hit a bump and the roller ball hit me (gently) right between my nostrils. So, I'm still enjoying the scent. Any perfume that can be pleasant when deposited right under one's nose is a good one. I may even do it again the next time I'm a bit too sleepy to be driving. "Jicky - even better than caffeine."
Painting note: "Gabrielle d'Estrées et une de ses soeurs", artist unknown, 1594. Read more about this painting here. In lieu of a lively post, I resort to a bit of titillation. More paintings from the Fountainbleu school to come.
4 comments:
Your photo selection is scandalous. It's an affront to my girlish sensibilities. Also, it's a bit creepy. And a perfect opportunity for me to randomly say "girlish sensibilities."
That aside, I fear the whole depression/creativity connection as well. Do I somehow feel more like I write better when I'm feeling dark. Grrr.
I've never been able to figure out whether I write better when I'm down, or I just concentrate better when I don't have the energy to run around and be social.
I never thought of actually snorting Jicky, but now you've got me wondering if I should give it a try. I love Jicky.
Ah !
A FAVORITE painting of mine...
My sons, when very small- used to refer to it as "Don't touch that dial !"
I have a tendency to do much the same-
Searching for auguries in the neverending daily minutiae, when sometimes it is only a 'paper strip'...
Jicky sounds like the tonic you needed; I believe in that sort of thing.
I often mutter ,"Wait just a minute, I'm busy medicating myself !"-
When it would appear to others, that I'm merely choosing a perfume...
What do THEY know, anyway.
Harrumph.
Regarding the pain, and the arthritis-
I GET it.
I'm probably the worst kind of mystic, or rabid a-hole- but , for me- I attach all the Khalil Gibranian references about pain and enlightenment-
It's feeble, but it keeps me from The Rope, LOL.
[Desperation CAN be a beautiful thing]
The dark side ?
I live [more or less peaceably, at almost 55] more comfortably, with mine.
I seem so sunny- yet my tastes run to the very, very dark.
[I've always been very happy singing Mahler and Kurt Weill / Berthold Brecht collaborative songs]
Is depression creative ?
It can be.
Perhaps, 'prolonged dysphoria', may be another way to describe it...
Another tale for another time-
But there IS a reason why so many creative folks- Richard Branson, several of my dearest friends-
Refuse to 'medicate' themselves, for fear of losing that creative edge.
Be well, dear Julie.
Forgive the ranting of an under-caffeinated woman.
Pain is indeed a great teacher. Some days, however, I wish the lessons could be over. And yet.
Today is a case in point. I was planning on attending a poetry workshop at Treetop Zen Center. I had one of the worst nights I've had in a few months and awoke at the time the retreat was starting (45 minutes away).
Now, I could just stew in my disappointment or appreciate what is, for there's a lot.
Chayaruchama, I will not "forgive" you, for you did nothing wrong.
And yes, sometimes scent seems like medication. This morning I looked through my box of samples, thinking I'd put something new on, but reached for the Safran Troublant, which I find soothing.
There is much to respond to here in the comment section, and many posts could come out of this, thus proving that depression (or at least suffering) is indeed fodder for the writing process.
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