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Hunting in the deep dark woods and further creative ventures

12.11.2013

My Favourite Things

There I was, my face still chilled from a walk outside, lighting candles and incense. I decided to burn some of my Palo Santo, and this led me to think about these things I have that are some of my favourites, but not many people really know that they are. (Did that sentence make any sense?) Any ways, I am going to describe a few of my favourite things, some of my most beloved possessions, activities, and so on. But I think what I'm going to do is try to narrow my favourites down to the five senses. I just got that idea, and I think it's rather clever. Or is it... Now, can you guess which sense belongs to which?

Side note: I'm trying this thing where I'm trying to be more honest, and more open. At least on my blog. Or at least starting with my blog? I'll discuss that more later. Moving on.

Palo Santo incense- This is my favourite incense. It comes in the form of pieces of wood, that smell spicy and warm. When you light it, it smells like the most perfect camp fire. In general, my favourite scents are what would be considered "masculine". Woodsy, musky. My favourite smells are earthy wood (y'know. Wood that has been buried for a while, and is on the verge of rotting, but doesn't smell like rotting? It's rather specific), leather, campfire smoke, Old Spice (yes, the men's deodorant. The classic kind), trees, unlit tobacco, smoky black tea, and those kinds of things. I've never been one to like fruity smells. There are some flowers or fruits that I like the smell of, but it's very specific. It has to be a high note with very earthy low and medium notes. Also, fake smells. I don't like those. (For the record, my least favourite smell in the world is faux blueberry. I think it's wretched. All other fruits are a close second).

 Talbot, and my other pelts and tails- Yes, I have furs. They are dead animals that hang around our home. Please don't chop my head off if you're an anti-fur person. I like furs because I feel connected to the animal on an elemental level. I find something very comfortable about it. I like feeling connected to more primal and ancestral roots, and pelts and the tails that I always wear allow me to feel that way. And yes, I named by fox pelt. Its name is Talbot. I named it because it fit, and as a road-kill pelt, I feel that gives it respect. I can understand that not all of this would make sense to other people, and that's okay. It's just how I relate to things. 

Gin and chocolate and tea- I can't really choose one favourite taste. Chocolate and tea are definitely at the top. I also like gin. Or rather, I like the taste of juniper berries (apparently). My favourite chocolate is dark, and my favourite teas are black. I'm quite fond of Ceylon, and Canadian Breakfast. Also, Russian Caravan. Hmm... maybe we should have some of that tonight... 

Indie Winter playlists on 8tracks.com- Whenever I bake, I listen to playlists on 8tracks. It's a website where people can upload playlists. It's quite good. You just type in tags that relate to what you want to listen to, and away you go. My favourite playlists usually have the words 'indie', 'folk', 'winter', 'chill', and things like that. Some songs I like more than others, but for the most part, it makes for a cozy feeling, and it makes me think of last winter when I went to my friend's studio for an afternoon, and we listened to her music, worked on art, and drank tea. It was lovely.

The night sky and barren prairie- I've been feeling homesick recently. Homesick for the prairie. I can't wait to be home in 10 days or so. I miss walking to the end of the earth, bundled in winter gear, the sound of dogs running through the snow. I love winter in the prairie. Especially at night. In general, night time is my favourite time to be outside. I just like walking, staring up at the sky. In the prairie, you can see the milky way, stretching into oblivion. Glittering constellations on rich velvet. Last winter, I would go out with the dogs, go out in the middle of the field, and lay on the frozen ground. Sinking into the snow just a little bit. I would stare at the sky, wishing to fall asleep. Our dog Cap would run over, wondering what on earth was wrong. Nothing feels more like love than a snowy dog face touching yours. I miss that dog. I miss all of it. My soul needs to go back. I know that I would never be able to live in the city forever. There's always a million eyes, and a million lights. Barriers made of lawns and stucco. I want to wander, without hesitation of what directions I can't go. Give me scratches of barbed wire, and coyote yips. I want to lean my head back and howl, and have the world howl back. The truest form of comfort is the kiss of ice, and feeling like such a small part of an infinite universe. I hate winter in the city, but in the prairie it puts my soul at rest.

The Prince House, and other paranormal experiences- I don't know if I believe in clairvoyance, or the supernatural, or the paranormal, or whatever. In my bones I know that there is something else. I've had psychic readings, and it left me questioning everything. Mostly because of what it meant. I've had experiences that could be described as other worldly or something of that sort... The weirdest was when I was in the Prince House in Heritage Park, and I didn't want to be on the second floor. Particularly near the nursery. I had the worst feelings, anxiety, my heart thudding, feeling electric and frightened and nervous. I left, and waited on the main floor. I went back up a few minutes later, in case I was nervous because of the amount of people. Same nervous feelings in that spot. Later I learned that the Prince House is allegedly haunted, and many people have had experiences in the same spot that I did. What frightened me the most about this was the fact that I hadn't known about its haunted status previously. A bit weird. And yet, somehow, I'm still highly skeptical. Curious, and paranormal obsessed. But very, very, skeptical.

That's all folks. And yes, I threw in a bonus "sixth sense". Because why not.

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