analysing angela & frida

I had been wanting to watch My So-Called Life for a while now, so I was pretty stoked to find it under the tree this year. I started watching it, and the first 10 minutes were okay but I was a bit disappointed. But as I continued watching, the second episode and the third I was blown away. I was completely glued to my computer and fascinated by the quality of the acting and by the resemblance to my life. 

Angela's bickering parents kind of tick me off sometimes (their conversations are always along the lines of: the mum: "omg Angela doesn't love me" the dad: "omg she does, she doesn't love me", together: "i guess she needs to push us away to understand how important we are to her"… or like, the mum: "ah i miss it when i was angela's age, i feel so ugly, honey am i ugly?"). So that can get annoying. BUT THE TEENAGERS. 

They are so raw, and real, and inconsistent, and unpredictable, and funny and I just have so much love for them. Take Angela for example. If you look at most TV shows or movies geared toward teenage girls (even one's that are actually quite cool such as Juno or Easy A or The Hunger Games), they describe a protagonist who KNOWS who she is. She might stuff up a couple of times and make the wrong choices or feel sort of confused but ultimately she makes what the viewer sees as the "right" choice. But throughout all this process she HAS A SET PERSONALITY that is very clear and labelable (is that even a word?). And that can be a bit daunting for someone like me who doesn't have anything figured out. 

Angela could be me or you my dear reader (that is if you are a teen, you like the Smashing Pumpkins and you have trouble fitting in, we have quite the criterion here) because she ISN'T EASILY DEFINED. 

You see her trying to wade through high school, sometimes quite passively following Rayanne other times making her own way. In class you see her fidgety and distracted (to her defence the teachers seem pretty monotone and boring) but out of the blue she will raise her hand and say something super intelligent tying perfectly with the subject but also drawing a parallel with her life and teenagerhood in general.

As well as analysing Angela Chase and literally consuming the episodes (IN WHAT WORLD ARE THERE THIRTEEN SEASONS OF FAMILY GUY BUT ONLY ONE MEAGRE SEASON OF FREAKS & GEEKS AND MY SO CALLED LIFE, WHY IS LIFE SO UNFAIR?) I've been very fascinated by Frida Kahlo.

My friend lent me The Diary of Frida Kahlo (and it's translation because yeah not quite the pro in spanish yet) and it's actually scary. There's more to Frida than a mono-brow and jewels, she is the symbol of obsessive love, of pain (she has 37 surgeries throughout her life) and of nature.

Here are a couple of sentences that she wrote that portray this:

Through the round numbers
and the colored nerves
the stars are made
and the worlds are sounds.

 -

I would not wish to harbour
the slightest hope,
everything moves to the beat
of what's enclosed in the belly

 and my favourite:

You too know that all
my eyes see, all
I touch with myself, from
any distance, is
Diego. The caress of
fabrics, the color of colors, the
wires, the nerves, the pencils,
the leaves, the dust, the cells,
the war and the sun, everything
experienced in the minutes of the
non-clocks and the non-calandars
and the empty non-glances,
is him.

Frida literally self-destructs and the traces of this in her diary is very confronting. She mixes the ugly and the beautiful in all her work. (Also on a superficial note, you'd think, after reading her poems that Diego is a looker or at least charismatic but oh my, see for yourself..)

(I guess Frida really saw something in him…)

there is always a story | a project

I'm so excited to announce the beginning of a project (you know how I am with projects, I cannot seem to stick to one, and go about scribbling, doodling, scheming until, pop, another idea for a project comes to mind)!

I love photography. I've learnt that just because you have a fancy shmancy Nikon D3100 (incidentally called 'Iris') doesn't mean your photos are more valuable or 'better'. Through the lens I slip into an observer. I shed my extrovert personality for a couple of minutes, or even hours, and observe. I look at how the light falls on my subject, how their shadow mingles with other dark shapes, the many different way I could capture the moment or the story (this doesn't mean that sometimes I just kind of snap away maniacally hoping to get at least one nice-ish photo).

Poetry is also a major part of my life. I call myself a poet, but really, I'm just a girl running around with a notebook and pen trying to convey her thoughts about the world around her in decent words. It usually isn't a success, but yes, I do love reading (and writing) poetry.

This project will combine my poems and photography to tell a story... a double experience.

Please have a look at the 'there is always a story' project here (it's super bare at the moment so let's not expect wonders right away), and feel free to tag along either by:

1. following it on tumblr
2. shooting me an email or a comment sharing any links or words to inspire me on this year long journey (I'm going to need all the inspiration I can get)
3. learning more about it on the 'about the project' tab
4. 'reblogging' or 'hearting' my creations
5. or by sharing it to your readers (I'd be so grateful!)

'there is always a story' has barely been launched but I'd like it to grow as a community project involving all those photography and poetry lovers out there who have their own stories to tell (it will involve some interviews and other surprises).

Stay tuned,

(You guys are awesome by the way!xo)

lotus m.

e.e. cummings

on a saturday morning.

:: rainbows and shadows and a poem and a little sister and light tricks on a 

saturday morning. ::

out. // a poem

ok. so i guess it is a little sombre, and it is a morbid subject, but, hey, one day we're all going to face it. so without further ado, here is a poem i was told to write in english class, the subject was death. i'll spare you the rationale, and all though.

out.

here is the shallow secret, here it is, 

it is numb, bathed in eternity, a wasteland of thoughts,

the drowning, the heaving

here is the heavy secret, the one that no one accepts,

grey-dressed, it is the bite after the race, it is the sleep, 

the shadow tainting life, it is the fall,

it is the musty-smell, the motivation for leaving an imprint,

the reason for beauty,

here it is,

it is the extinguishing of that brief spark of light 

slipped between two slices of forever,

the nothing. the no-future. the ultimate relief.

it makes its way through the busy,

the vain scratching of the pen, once the ink has gone,

that sinking of the heart, it is the line,

parallel, all this time.

here is the wirelike secret, shake your head at the bitter,

it is damp. it is dirt,

it is tasting the past

and breathing it out.

i am a dreamer

I want to travel the world and have a little box of keepsakes from each place.
I want to grow fruits and vegetables and learn how to cook.
I want a tall library full of books and poems and stories of life.
I want to appreciate all the little things, as they end up being the most important.
I want to wake up early and see a sunrise.
I want an adventure. I want many adventures.
I want to spend a night on a sailboat, getting rocked to sleep by the waves.
I want a soulmate.
I want to walk through the woods at night in pyjamas and flashlights.
I want to pick flowers and paint on Sunday mornings even if I'm not very good.
I want to take more pictures.
I want to skinny-dip.
I want to get caught in the rain.
I want lots and lots of stories to tell my grandchildren.
I want blankets and a place to look at the stars, speechless at my own insignificance.
I want best friends. Real friends.
I want a purpose.

I am a dreamer.
And I want to always be this way.


source

just like the ocean

You're like the ocean ...

Pretty enough on the surface,

but dive down into your depths,

and find your inner core,

the things that make you smile,

the things that you respect,

the stars studded within you,

the weeping willow trees,

and the tears thrown in the sea,

you'll find beauty most

people never see.

PHOTOS TAKEN BY ME