He listened attentively as she spoke about her love for the sky, and then he watched as the clouds moved with her while she danced. She stood facing the sun, soaking up its warmth, breathing deeply as she absorbed the light, and he watched longingly as it glowed from her skin. She prayed to nature, saying it was her god, she believed in energies. And he stood, in awe, as the trees swayed with her, the birds sang with her, the sun shone with her, and her touch struck him like lightening.

A goddess. A goddess who spoke of the beauty of the world, if you would only just look, not realising that everything she loved so much, he saw in her.

Every time she admired a sunset, his eyes were taking in the way her hair shaped her face, a brightly lit halo around her. Every time she sat appreciating the power of a thunderstorm, his mind would drift to the colour of her eyes, and the rainbow soul lying beneath them. And when she’d close her eyes and listen to the sounds of the earth, a warm smile sitting quietly on her lips, his ears would ring with the sound of her voice, floating through him like an ancient melody his soul recognised as his own.

He sat quietly one day, thinking about his winter flower, continuing to bloom through the falling of the rain, her petals glistening as the light hit the droplets. But she was not his, she would and could never be his.

She was the type of flower you left to the earth, he knew from the minute that he saw her, she was not to be picked, she was always meant to stay firmly rooted, growing and blossoming, even the fall of her dead petals she was able turn into a dance.

A beauty like hers, he thought with a somber heart, was meant for the world, as the world was meant for her.

She was mesmerised by the beauty in the world.

He, was mesmerised by the beauty found in her.


She was the ocean. he didn’t swim.

There was no denying that he loved the ocean, or that he marvelled at its beauty and splendor every time he was anywhere near it, but he didn’t know how to swim, and he was too scared to ever try. And so she made herself into a little rock pool, and he’d stand there wetting his toes. Skipping stones and looking for fish or crabs or little ripples in the water.

But then she realised that if she was this rock pool, she must be the ocean as well, because it was all the same water. And she realised that she was the waves and the tides and this pretty little rock pool and this insanely powerful mass that is made up of the earth but also makes up the earth. And as lovely as he was, and as nice as it was to have him there, sitting close and admiring her, she realised that there was so much more about her to be enjoyed, and surely, someone willing to enjoy it. Someone who would look at the waves she created and want to surf it, or dive head first.

She was to be explored, not just admired. And when she realised that, she set herself free. Those rocks which had kept her close to the shore ceased to be a problem, and there she went, becoming part of the ocean she’d been all along.

When a tornado meets a rainbow

I used to think you were the tornado. And then i thought I was the tornado. Now i realise it’s us. We are the tornado. This destructive whirlwind of emotion and passion and love and lust and everything we both are. And our tornado hit a rainbow once, and it was the most beautiful thing i have ever experienced. A rainbow, we went through a rainbow, creating this spectacle of colour and light and wonder. But we were only passing by. Tornados are not stagnant, and rainbows disappear, and now i sit here wondering if it is worth it, to spend my time in this destructive path, hoping that something as rare as a collision between a rainbow and tornado could ever happen again. But oh, how beautiful it would be if it did.

To keep trusting the sun…

People and relationships and the sun, the moon, and the earth, and the way we are planets and the people we let into our lives become our suns, and the way we trust them.

“just like a sunset i know i could never change you, but just like a sunset even if i had the chance i wouldn’t. beauty to the core. you are fire and you are heat and you are have the power to destroy me and my entire world. but just like the sun, your heat warms it does not burn, and your light colours my world, it does not blind me.”

you are fire, and you are heat, and fuck, you are dangerous. your heat is burning me, and your light is blinding me, and we both know that you know, so why are you not giving me sun screen, or planting me a tree so that i have some shade. you’re supposed to love me, you’re not supposed to hurt me, and if you know that you are you’re supposed to have the decency to give me some kind of protection.

so much for love. its such a misused word. such a misunderstood word.

you’re burning me and blinding me and i am trying to protect myself but in my own stupidity i’ve set up camp in a desert, believing i could trust, now i’ve got no shade and i’m running out of water but i can’t go anywhere because i just love the sun so damn much.

silly me.

and still, i will never change the way i love, or the way i trust. i cannot be bitter. at least now i’ve got that sunkissed tan.

cracked all over, but still beautiful

I find beauty in broken people.                                                                                                                                       There is something about how you can almost see each individual piece of who they’ve been, and how these pieces have been put together to create who they are, each piece representing a different part of their lives.                                                                                                                                                                                   Behind every tear, scar, and fake smile, there are fragments of who they are, who they’ve been, and of their shear beauty.

A rose is only as pretty as its full bloom, after that it’s thrown out.                                                                               But when a rose is dying, slowly discolouring, each petal breaking off and falling to the floor, turning into dust, is that not beauty?

Far too often we define beauty as perfection, when in reality the most beautiful moments happen by chance, and the most beautiful smile is hiding a lifetime of pain packed into twenty years of crashed existence.                                                                                                                                                                              That is beauty.                                                                                                                                                                        Crashing. Getting up and fighting. Scars.                                                                                                                     Scars are beautiful, they tell a story, and stories are beautiful.                                                                               They open up your eyes to a world so different from your own that there is nothing left to do but admire.           It’s the unknown.                                                                                                                                                               And tell me now, what could be more beautiful than the experience of that which you do not know?              Do not let your broken pieces ruin you, you were created in beauty, and will remain beautiful long after your body ceases to walk this earth.

“Cigarette Sally”… the serial killer: photo series

the pictures in this post are not real, and any similarities to real life events are purely coincidental. all of the injuries and bodily fluids were created by me, as part of the serial killer assignment i had to do. to see the full story, scroll down to earlier posts for “Cigarette Sally”

Chloe Thompson: “Cigarette Sally” The Killer                                                                                                               Thompson was a vulnerable and meek girl, she believed that the killing she did was for the good of mankind. fixated on the idea of smoking, she used poisoned cigarettes to subdue her victims, after which she incorporated basic human necessities such as eating, water, sleeping and breathing into all of her kills. Thompson believed that men who smoked were bad,and that poisoning themselves by smoking meant that they did not deserve the privilege of the necessities she used against them. i’ve chosen to picture Thompson in her home environment, where she was discovered by the police, to cement the idea of her innocence and vulnerability.


Victim no.1: Dave Thompson                                                                                                                                         The abusive father of Chloe. Found on the kitchen floor, he’d been food poisoned, and died after collapsing and convulsing as well as experiencing liver failure which would ultimately result in his. burned with a cigarette on his temple.


Victim no.2: Mark Adams                                                                                                                                                    Mark was cigarette poisoned at a bar and later taken to Chloe’s house where he was strangled to death. burned with a cigarette on his neck.


Victim no.3: Trevor Jacobs                                                                                                                                             the first unaggravated kill. Jacobs, like Adams, was cigarette poisoned at a bar and later taken to Thompsons home where he was drowned to death. burned with a cigarette on his neck.


what i’ve learned

so tomorrow is the last cms class i have for the year and possibly the rest of my time at AFDA since my original plan was a major in live performance, and it’s kinda bumming me out. these subjects have been so much fun, so much work, but so much fun.

the whole point of us starting this blog was so that our lecturers could monitor our learning. we were meant to blog about every lecture, but its been the hardest thing for me. i feel like i have learnt so much, but i feel like its things that become applied knowledge, and im not really sure how to put it into words.

i thought i was going to be learning how to put on make and paint walls and stuff, but in reality its been so much helpful shit thats probably going to help me with the rest of my life.

its more about the psychology of a character than the make up. its understanding the inside so that you can correctly portray the outside, because that is what we do, we use our appearances to express our internal make up. so to create 3 dimensional characters, one needs to understand the ‘why.’ why characters dress the way they do, and cut their hair the way they do, why they wear the colours they wear and why they choose to wear or not wear make up.

and how to sell ideas. we’ve learnt product placement and the right and wrong way to do an advertisement, how to play on the emotions of our target market, to sell them our story without making them aware of the fact that they’re our buyers.

we looked at art, and how historical periods affected the way one scene was portrayed in the paintings of various artists. how important it is to understand and be aware of the time you live in.

how important it is to remember that time runs out quickly when you have things to do. gee wizz. this term has taught me how to work under pressure and how to juggle what feels like 50000 tasks all at once.

i’ve enjoyed myself. i’ve grown. i’ve acquired knowledge. and heeeey, i’ve made some new friends.

i’m not going to try and squeeze every piece of information i’ve learnt into one post, and also i’m not really the type of person who can just share my knowledge. im more of the type who lets it brew for a couple of months and then comes up with a little monologue. i’m full of monologues and pieces of writing.

this blogging about each lecture was really stressful for me, but i hope my blogs been a fun read nonetheless.

im definitely gonna keep doing this.

Choose Your Poison

Reinvention of a Fairytale:

When we are younger we are told stories of ‘once upon a time’s, charming princes who will come and rescue us from all of our troubles, magic creatures, fairy godmothers and ‘happily ever after’s.

Now that I’m older I’ve had time to think about what these stories meant. There are many claims of hidden meanings in fairy tales and children’s stories, of sinister meanings, which the innocence of a child’s mind could not handle. What I do know for certain is that our perceptions of the world do change as we get older, because we’re exposed to the evils and atrocities that human beings commit, and in this world a child often loses his innocence far too early in life.

The story of ‘Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs’ was originally published by the Brothers Grimm in 1812, and was later adapted for a Disney film.

In a land far away there is a beautiful queen who is jealous of her stepdaughter Snow White’s beauty and orders her to be killed. When the huntsman takes the beautiful young princess to the forest he cannot bring himself to kill her and instead leaves her to fend for herself in the forest, where she stumbles across the cottage of seven dwarfs- Bashful, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy and Doc. The dwarfs agree to let her stay there provided that she cooks, cleans and cares for them. When the evil queens mirror of truth tells her that Snow White is still the most beautiful in the land the queen realises that she is still alive and plots to kill her, eventually giving her a poisoned apple which puts Snow White in a state of limbo. The rest of the story is not relevant for my reinvention, but they all live happily ever after and the evil queen is killed.

Today, instead of allowing the evil to poison us, we poison ourselves. There are all sorts of addictions and poisons we knowingly put into our bodies, into our homes, and we let them live there and ‘care’ for us, similar to the way the dwarfs let Snow White stay with them, except in this case, the dwarfs are the addictions, the poisons we’ve chosen.

This world has broken so many of us, there are so many horrors we all have to face on a regular basis, no longer young enough to believe in the fairy tales, but instead forced to watch stories of killings on the news and see newspaper headlines of rapes and child abuse on the poles on the sides of our roads. Of course we will flee. The things we have to experience are unnatural, and if I had the option I would probably go and stay in the forest with seven dwarfs as well, and figuratively I do, I’ve chosen my poison and it has become my little safe haven, everyone has an escape.

Bashful comes in the form of love, possibly the most dangerous but also most beautiful poison of all. Sleepy, marijuana, the drug of peace and love.                                                                                                 Sneezy is too much cocaine.                                                                                                                              Dopey, the hallucinogen ‘magic mushrooms’- this drug does not make one dopey, but with the right mindset it can make one dopey to the world around them, and put them in a state of trance, where all the atrocities fall away and only the beauty of the world can be seen.                                                               Grumpy is alcohol, everyone’s best friend until they’ve had one too many and want nothing more than to pass out on the speaker in the club.                                                                                                                      Happy comes in the form of MDMA, a drug that causes happiness, an overflow of affection, and tingly feelings all over.                                                                                                                                                              Doc is good old fashioned pharmaceuticals, its easy to get, and when taken in the right manner, could put you on one hell of a buzz.

Snow White, like most of us, is finding an escape in, something to help her get through life, she’s chosen her poisons, and is quite happy to live with them.

Choose yours.


“My room is what my brain would look like if my body was a house”

an assignment entitled “my room madness,” because your room is a reflection of who you are. we had to document the important elements of our room and what they mean, along with a visual diary, so pictures of certain things and what they mean to us. here we go.

rm open

Out of all of the spaces in my home I think I actually spend the least amount of time in my own room, but at the same time I spend all of my important personal time there. If the walls could talk, they’d talk of tears and laughter and conversations with myself, and love and lust and fights, and the many hours I’ve spent writing in my journal. We’ve got a pretty close knit family, and a very welcoming home, so when I’m not chilling out with my besties (my parents) in the lounge, I’m outside with my friends smoking cigarettes, playing uno and drinking tea.

My room. It was my brother’s room for a while, I was in the one next to his. Then when I was in grade 1 my gran got sick and came to stay with us, so she took his room because it was close to my parent’s, and my brother took the back room on the other end of the house. So when my gran moved to an old age home my current room became a music room, storing my drumset, keyboard, guitars, and some other random things belonging to my mom. When my brother moved out 3 years ago we moved the instruments into his room, turning it back into the entertainment room it was prior to his inhabiting of it. Then I got my grans old room because it was bigger. Which leads to the colour choices of my walls. I wanted white walls, with one wall painted a different colour, if I remember correctly one of my uncles had some leftover red paint, so I decided red was as good a colour as any. I don’t have a favourite colour, I’m always telling people that if the rainbow was classified as a colour it would be my favourite one, so any colour was pretty cool with me. I chose the wall opposite to my windows because my room gets really nice early morning sunlight and the reflection of the light onto my red wall creates a really cool natural light.

Then we’ve got the placement of my bed. I’ve got built-in cupboards running right along one of my walls, with a mirror and dressing table shelf thing, and then another shelf-like thing which acted as a desk for studying which we pulled out to stick my bed in there, creating a lot more floor space, which I’d need for all of my clothes of course. Then above my bed there’s a little ledge where I keep my candles and incense sticks. When I am having some down time in my room I like the calmness these elements bring. Across the room from my bed is my bookshelf. Same bookshelf I had in my old room, same pastel green it was then, I just took it off the wall and moved it to the new room, I planned on attacking it with a permanent marker and all sorts of cool patterns but never really got around to it. My bookshelf is a really important element. Reading is one of my favourite past times, though I don’t do nearly enough of it. I’ve always loved reading and story telling, which I think played a part in my choice of studies. I love allowing my imagination to run wild and getting caught up in the lives of characters in books, staying with them through their ups and downs, and imagining where they are in their lives once the stories have ended.

Also on my bookshelf is a Pappa Smurf teddy bear that a friend gave to me when I was in hospital with meningitis 3 years ago, I treasure little things like that, which is why I have so many random things lying around in my room with no real place in my cupboard, so they end up chilling out on one of my shelves or pasted on my walls. I’m an extremely sentimental person who holds onto memories and feelings and moments in time. And I’m very relational about it, by that I mean I can literally have a score sheet from a putt-putt match or a wristband from a party, and by looking at it I’ll remember the entire experience. My dad calls me a hoarder but I don’t think my habit is unhealthy, yet…

I’ve got photographs ranging from my dads childhood to my own, to high school, to photobooth pictures from 21sts, to those sketch art pictures you can get in malls, pasted all over my mirror and surrounding it. I love pictures. Capturing moments in time.

Next to my bed is a bedside light, and a few novels I’m currently reading, and my journal. My journal is one of the things I value most in my life. I don’t do diary entries, but when things are tough or I have a lot to think about the easiest thing for me to do is to write a piece about it. That journal holds little pieces of my soul within its covers, it was a gift from my older cousins when I turned 16, and I’ve spent the last 4 years confiding in it every trouble or unsettling thought or sadness or philosophical idea I may have.

I feel very comfortable in my room, it is completely my own space. The majority of my things don’t have a specific place where they go, and my room is pretty much always messy, but I like to think of it as organised chaos. When I need time to myself I can close my door, light my candles and incense, put on some music and just float away, it’s a calming environment which balances out the intensity of things that happen in my brain. I love my room. And I think it’s a pretty good representation of who I am- someone who feels very deeply and gets lost in their own minds more often than not. Someone who cares deeply for those around her and who wants to keep them close, so she keeps pictures as reminders of the love in her life. Someone who holds onto everything, every memory and feeling and person she meets, someone who hoards the little boxes of the past on the shelves in her brain. Yep, my room is what my brain would look like if my body were a house.

… And here is the visual diary to prove it:

rm 1 rm 2 rm 3 rm 4 rm 5

creating the world.

so for this assignment we had to look at the colours we’re using in the environment for our films. we had to go pretty in depth about the environment and the relationship to the character and why we’ve chosen the colours that we’ve chosen. bare in mind, production design is a first for me so some of it may sound like complete poppy cock, but hey, i’m trying. we also did a mood board as part of the assignment. so, here it is…

The narrative I chose to use for this assignment is from the film we will be making for our term project coming up. It is called “Alternative Truth’s” and follows the lives of three characters, in particular, our protagonist, Eva. Eva is a shy and socially awkward girl who seeks comfort in the familiarity of her mothers embrace and support. The child of a single mother, Eva has never known her father, who unbeknownst to her, lives on the other side of the world where he moved with her twin sister when they were born.

Enter Zoey, the epitome of confidence and all of the qualities Eva lacks. Eva and Zoey attend the same university, Zoey quickly making friends and Eva watching from afar as her classmates bond and figure each other out. When Eva hears her mom speaking about financial difficulties relating to her university fees, the pressures of trying to keep her grades up and the anxiety of unpaid bills, as well as her loneliness and lack of anyone to talk to results in her breaking down at campus, and running to the bathroom to avoid being seen. Eva comes out to find Zoey (who had seen the breakdown) there to lend a shoulder to cry on. The two girls strike up a friendship and will eventually become each others pillars of strength. On the same day as the breakdown Zoey walks Eva home, and Eva’s mom, usually a welcoming and warm woman, meets Zoey and becomes cold and agitated, starting a fight with Eva.

A mother’s intuition, she hugs her daughter’s new friend and immediately feels the connection, Zoey is the twin sister. The audience is made aware of this fact, but the two girls do not know, this is a use of dramatic irony which we hope will keep the audience members invested in the lives of the characters.

There are two locations, one being the university, and the other the living room of Eva’s home. I will focus on the living room because it is most predominant in the film and also speaks most of the mood of the film and the character of our protagonist.

Something to point out however, is that the colour green (grass in the university courtyard) can be associated with growth and change. Grass is present in the scene of Eva and Zoey meeting for the first time, and that meeting is a signifier of Eva coming out of her shell and the beginning of her letting her guard down and making friends, it brings about a change in both girls lives.

The home of Eva and her mother is a very welcoming and homely one. Although not poor, the two are struggling financially. Often in the homes of wealthy people you see lots of white and silver, signifying class and high standards, but the perfect house is just that, nothing more than a house. Eva’s home has character, markings on the living room wall’s of her growth as a child, mutli-coloured throw cushions on a single couch, a coffee table that is scratched, an array of photographs of Eva and her mom on a shelf, vases of flowers, books on the table and bursts of colour. Things may not necessarily match, but all this does is add to the welcoming and loving atmosphere.

I hope to use different colours in the living room in a way that will depict the love and warmth in the house, firstly as a testament to both Eva and her mom’s character, but also to show that Eva’s mom acting out when she brought someone over was uncharacteristic and means something more is going on. There is not much time to introduce the mother and for the audience to get to know her so the environment that she is in as well as her clothes has to act as an informant for the audience in a short period of time.

The main colours in the living room will be shades of pink and purple. Pink symbolises the love in the house, it is a gentle and soothing colour and also shows the comfort Eva finds in her mother. Pink will be used on the cushions, on coasters on the coffee table, and in a bouquet of flowers. The colour purple in a home environment is a colour of connection, which enhances spirituality and passion, and allows friends to be family, this will be seen as a throw on the couch. I will also use dashes of green seen in ornaments and leafy plants in the living room, this once again to signify growth and change. The walls of the house will be white, with the wall behind the couch painted yellow. Colours like yellow and orange are used to add life to a house and bright colours are usually more inviting and welcoming and will act as a binary to the pastel/earthy colours of Eva’s clothing. Although the room supports Eva’s character, it also opposes it because the aspects of her character which are present in the house are aspects which are hidden behind the walls Eva has put up, these aspects are there but nobody sees it. There will be odd pictures and paintings hanging on the wall, as reminders of things they’ve done and places they’ve been, it shows that the characters have lived full lives. Orange candles on the shelf will stand to draw the audiences attention to the photographs of Eva and her mom, these photographs are a focal point in the opening scene of our film as they introduce us to Eva and her day to day life.  I hope for the little elements in the living room as well as the array of colours used to portray the welcoming and loving atmosphere that exists, to show that they are down to earth people who don’t need many fancy things, who can make do with whatever they have and still find a way to make life bright and to support each other. I hope that these are feelings that the audience members will feel with the help of my colour scheme- feelings of love and support and comfort, but also of change and foreshadowing.