8.29.15 - 9.5.15 // Journal Pages

Aloha Borgs,

I've been getting some questions here and there (I'm lying I haven't gotten any questions) regarding my journaling method so I thought I would just go ahead and offer a little insight into how I make my pages and what mood I was in and what I was listening to or watching. All that good stuff. If you're interesting in looking at my previous pages you can hit up my tumblr, because I'm not going to go back to the beginning of my journal and start this process. So without any further ado, let's get into it. 

Okay so my theme for this week (and don't expect there to be a theme every week because there won't be) was experimentation. I really wanted to try and get out of my comfort zone. I don't know about you but once I get too familiar with something I get bored and I stop doing it altogether. I'm an Aquarius, what can I say. So I decided to move away from my usual spreads and use some media that I'm not too keen on using. 

What I was...

Watching: Death Becomes Her (1992), Witches of Eastwick (1987), Extreme Weight Loss

Listening to: Signs (Beyonce), Amy Winehouse discography, Hotline Bling (Drake), Time of Our Lives (Pitbull), Don't Tell Dave (Dance Gavin Dance), Carl Barker (Dance Gavin Dance)

 

This page is one of my least favorites of the bunch. I was in a weird mood and on top of that it was page that I tested a DIY Alcohol Ink Spray recipe that I found on Pintrest. Basically all you do is mix a packet of Kool-Aid and rubbing alcohol and mix it in one of those three ounce travel spray bottles and voila, you have alcohol ink. There's a few things that I want to stress when using this spray, for one, it stink...really bad and two, it gets everywhere. So if you're planing on using it I would strongly suggest you use it outside or in a ventilated area and that you don't wear anything you don't want permanently stained. Oh and one more thing, if you use it there will be bleeding though your pages, unless you're using it on thick paper. Just somethings to keep in mind. 

As for the designs. I made these in my ART 101 class that I took freshman year at uni. I handmade them with an exacto knife and sticky velum (I don't know if that's redundant). It was probably my favorite thing I made in that class and they last a really long time as long as you keep the sticky side of the velum intact.

You can see how much that Alcohol Ink Spray bleeds through on this page. But, I have to say I really like the effect it gave. Without it, these pages would not have looked half as nice. I traced the eye with pencil then gave up half way and penned the rest. This week I was really feeling my blue Uniball Micro pen. It writes super smooth and, if you work fast, you can use water to blend the color out like I did on the eye.

I was battling myself in this entry. I had just watched Extreme Weight Loss and was feeling really shitty about my weight, but at the same time, I knew I couldn't allow a shitty show to make me feel like I needed to change myself. As you can see that battle definitely plays out in my writing.

 

This first page was a mess. I woke up and read some stupid article about how people are beginning to like poke (a raw fish dish that originated in Hawai'i) and I could feel my blood boil, so I hastily wrote this poem and posted it on my tumblr. Looking back, I think the only thing that wasn't horrible was the title, although I really like where I was going with the poem. I just need some time to flesh out the idea more and who knows, there could be an updated "A is for Appropriation" coming soon (don't count on it.).

WARNING: THOSE WITH SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT ISSUE BE WARNED:

As for the second page...it's about these guys who've lived on my street forever who grew up to be GORGEOUS and I am just going through some SERIOUS WHITE BOY THIRST. Like f I see their outside hanging out, I'll legitimately get dressed and do my hair and makeup to get the mail...like you have to be fucking kidding me with this. So I wrote that note to remind myself to calm the fuck out and not listen to the voice in my head that tells me that white boys are the shit. Instead I need to listen to the other little voice in my head that say 'white boys are shit' and everything should work itself out. Anyway, I filled it in with some pastel crayons and called it a day.

And now...we have made it to my hands down favorite page of this weeks spread (and arguably my favorite page of my whole journal. Just look at it, isn't it beautiful? Don't you just want to print it out and hang it on your wall, or put it in your binder, or wear it on a shirt? No? It's just me? Whatever. This beauty was made with Micron pens ranging from an 003 to an 08, acrylic paint (it's the background of the eye and the lips, colored pencil (to color in the lips) and pastel crayons (to shade in the eyeball).  The patches or red are from using the Alcohol Spray on the next pages. Damn, I'm good!

Okay...I gave the spray another try on these pages and failed miserably. As you can see in the top right hand corner, I used to spray too close to the page and it totally smeared the ink on both sides of the page. The opposite side was totally ruined so I had to paste something over it, as you can see on the left hand page below.

On this page, I was suffering from a lack of creativity and a desire to write, so I went online and looked up some questions to answer (which is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I might have to compile a good list of questions in the future). I would definitely recommend this method for those of us who go through writers block. You get to continue writing without thinking too much and in my experience the questions eventually spark something and you can get back some of that momentum that you lost. Also, it's always fun to look back at the way you answered certain questions and see how much you've changed over the years.

And bringing up the rear is this beautiful last page which started out horribly and ended pretty nicely if I do say so myself. I found this picture while browsing through tumblr and it really caught my eye so I printed it out and boy did it come in handy. I was (and still kind of am) in the process of reorganizing my room to optimize my journaling work space. That means I had to pull out all the crap I didn't need and replace it with the crap I do need. I got a lot of inspiration from this picture because it's not overly neat, yet it seems like everything is easily accessible, you know? So I thought what better picture to put next to my entry about organization.

And that's it. Hope you all liked this...whatever it is, journal explanation? I'll come up with a better name for it later but let me know if you have any questions or suggestions on how to make this better.

Journal On!,
X

Films in Slow Motion!

I guess I should start this off by saying I know next to nothing about film. I took a film course in college which consisted mostly of my professor showing up late to class, and then begging us not to give her a bad end of the year review. As you can imagine, not much learning happened in that class. One film habit I did pick up during college as a way to de-stress before my big exams (I’m looking at you midterms and finals), was binge watching movies. Something about lying down on a comfortable bed with a pair of industrial strength headphones and some snacks, really takes the edge off the intense horrors of whatever impending test may lie before you. In the process of indulging this habit, I found myself drawn to certain scenes throughout the films I watched, namely, slow-motion scenes. I mean, come on, slow-motion scenes are the coolest. The director can use them to slow down a fast moving sequence, they can use them to highlight something important, they can even use them just for the hell of it. The possibilities truly are endless.  

                All this being said, I thought I would recount some of my all-time favorite uses of slow-motion in film. Fair warning, I have a very, let’s call it eclectic style so these film range from highly acclaimed to dismally bashed by critics. So let’s jump into it.

Drive (2011)

                One of my all-time favorite films is Drive, directed by Nicholas Winding Refn and starring Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston and Oscar Issac. The film is a crime/drama centered on the life of a man referred to as the Driver. I could go on and on about the various aspects of this film I find absolutely brilliant, but for our purposes I’ll move straight to the hands-down best use of slow-motion in any film I’ve ever seen. Let me set up the scene. The Driver (Ryan Gosling) enters his apartment building elevator, joining Irene (Carey Mulligan) his neighbor who he has fallen in love with, and a burly well-dressed man. The man presses the ground floor button and the elevator doors close. From out of the corner of his eye, The Driver notices the glint of a handgun in the man’s inside pocket. Protectively placing a hand around Irene, the Driver guides her to the corner of the elevator. The lights dim, triggering the slow-motion, the Driver turns to face Irene. Their eyes lock in an extended stare before they move in for a passionate, unexpected, truly beautiful kiss, every movement captured in breathtaking slow-motion. The lights brighten as they pull away from one another, casting them in an almost ethereal glow. Their eyes meet again, a shy smile creeps to their mouths. The elevator rings and the door open snapping the world back into motion.           

This is a moment of pure happiness, a moment unrivaled by all other moments in this film. A moment made even more important by the events following it. Once the elevator reaches the ground floor, the Driver shoves Irene off of the elevator and proceeds to brutally attack and kill the well-dressed man. Irene watches in horror as the elevator door closes. Can you say brilliant? No matter how many times I watch this film, I can never get over this scene. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

Electrick Children (2012)

                This next film I stumbled upon after a night of watching independent movies on Netflix and it immediately captured my heart. Electrick Children, written and directed by Rebecca Thomas and starring Julia Garner, Liam Aiken (think Klaus from Viacom’s A Series of Unfortunate Events), and Rory Culkin, is a coming of age story about a young Mormon girl who believes she is pregnant as a result of immaculate conception. Picture this moment, it’s late evening, the sun hangs just below the horizon electrifying the air in an almost neon blue glow. A group of teenagers, some on bikes, others on skateboards, ride through an empty alleyway. In the front, Clyde (Rory Culkin), the unofficial leader of the group, pedals his bike, his long wavy hair blows in the wind as he moves towards the camera. Behind him Rachael (Julia Garner) rides on his pegs wearing a pair of bright red heart-shaped sunglasses. Her hands rest on Clyde’s shoulders, a mixture of peace and apprehension blankets her face. As the pair moves closer, the camera blurs into a haze of fuzzy shapes and figures. The sound of the ocean, waves pushing and pulling, can be heard. Now imagine all of this captured in a 30 second slow-motion shot. No fancy editing, no artistic lighting, just these teenagers in this empty alleyway riding towards the camera. The mix of Rachel’s expression with the undeniable energy of the air around the teenagers makes this scene so breathtakingly beautiful.

                In context of this movie, I think this scene really shows Rachael claiming control of her body. She’s fifteen, she’s pregnant with a child who she believes to be the son of God, and she’s finally doing exactly what it is she wants to do, even if she’s not entirely sure what that is yet. 

Sucker Punch (2011)

While Drive and Electrick Children use slow-motion sparingly, Sucker Punch gloriously overindulges in its slow-motion shots. From what I’m told the director Zack Snyder, think 300 or Man of Steele, really, really loves his slow-motion shots and he is not shy about using them. A little bit about Sucker Punch, it’s an action/adventure/fantasy/psychological thriller/neo-noir mashup that follows the story of five girls desire to break free from the oppressive world they live in. This film has everything you want in a movie. An amazing kickass all-girl gang, an interesting plot, complex internal struggles depicted through a series of badass fight sequences, I mean does it get any better that that? For these reasons (and also the fact that I have a horrendous crush on Emily Browning ever since she played Violet in A Series of Unfortunate Events), Sucker Punch is one of my all-time favorite movies.

                Getting back to the slow-motion though. Because this film is filled with fight scenes, and I mean deliciously filled, and Zack Snyder can’t help himself in the editing room, you can find slow-motion EVERYWHERE in this film. For this reason it’s hard for me to narrow down just one sequence that I really love, but for the purposes of this list I’ll focus on the opening scene. Unlike the simplicity of Electrick Children, Snyder pulls out all the stops for this film. There’s stylized lighting, highly gimmicky costumes, and an eerie soft music that grows into a loud orchestra/rock hybrid. Also unlike Electrick Children, this slow-motion scene lasts five minutes. For the sake of time I’ll focus on the opening fifteen to thirty seconds. The camera lands on a young woman (Emily Browning) with platinum blonde hair and heavy costume makeup on. She’s been crying, streaks of mascara run down her ghostly white skin. Outside it is dark, rain pours down from ominous grey storm clouds. A man appears in the doorway shaking his head. The young woman runs out of the room desperately making her way to the end of the hallway where she bursts through a door and falls to her knees at the foot of a large bed. Her mother has died. Intense right?

Now, I don’t want to give away any spoilers because this movie really is too good to pass up, even with its scantily clad female fighters which some took offense to. There’s something so very Xena: Warrior Princess about this film. I really dig it. I will say that this movie handles some really heavy topics that may make some people uncomfortable and as I said before Snyder isn’t afraid to go out these topics with all he’s got.

Spectrum Noir Alcohol Markers Review

Finally, I'm back. It has been a while. I've been having that awful feeling that nothing I do is good enough and no one cares about anything I write. But now that that feeling is passing, and it's a feeling I think every creator keeps in the back of their head no matter how hard they try to get rid of it, I can move forward and continue to create content on this platform for the only person whose opinion of my work truly matters, myself.

Okay, now even though I've been on a blogging hiatus, I have been creating a lot of original content on my other platforms (Instagram and Tumblr) as well as some work just for me (my sketchbooks and journals). What I want to review today is the Spectrum Noir Professional Alcohol Markers in the Blues collection. These markers are purported to be a cheaper alternative to the famous Copic markers and come in 168 different shades including a colorless blender marker. They are double-ended, refillable and highly blendable according to the package.

Front

Back

Depending on the collection of colors you want, a 6-pack of these markers run anywhere from $10-13 on Amazon. However, I picked my set up at my local Joann's for only $7.99 using their 50% coupon (which they ALWAYS have online). I don't know if Michaels carries these but if they do I would suggest buying them there as well since they are known for also having 50% off coupons all the time. Oh, and I should mention that without the coupon, the markers cost $14.99. One thing I will say about purchasing through Joanns is that the color selection is limited, I really wanted to but either the Warm Greys, Browns or Essentials collection but settled for the Blues.

This is the selection of colors Spectrum Noir offers (does not show colorless blender)

Now that's over with let's move onto the fun part, starting with packaging. These markers are huge! When I use these I feel like I'm holding those giant pencils that you buy with a handful of tickets at an arcade. While I do enjoy the feeling, it does make it hard to handle and really get into tight fine details. However, I do not think these pens were made to handle time details so I can't really call that a flaw. As for the blendability (I just made that word up), I thought they blended pretty well. I will say that it's best to work from lightest to dark so that you don't mess up the tips of your markers. Personally, I used the wide end of the marker to cover my drawing in a base and added the darker colors on top, but everyone's gonna have their own technique.

Colors that come in the Blues collection

Tested on cheap Mixed Media Paper

As for my overall experience with these markers, I really like them. I think that they are perfect for use on a sturdy paper such as Acrylic or Watercolor and I would definitely repurchase them (I actually have my eye out for the colorless blender, the Essentials and Warm Greys). Below I'll post an example of how I used the markers.

Back
You can see how much the markers
bled through the back. 

Untitled Self-Portrait
Spectrum Noir Alcohol Markers on Oil paper

Not bad right? I really liked how seamless the colors blend, no harsh lines, no weird marks, everything just looks like it should. What I don't really understand is why the markers don't follow a sequential order? Why wouldn't I have TB1 - TB6? Why did they skip numbers? That's a little strange. Anyway tell me what you all think about these markers? Have you used them in different ways? Would you reccomend a different brand of alcohol markers? Let me know!

Thanks for reading,

X

Where Am I?

I’m tired. This isn’t going to be a put together post because I honestly don’t have the energy to write anything cohesive. I’m just so tired and disheartened, and more tired and more disheartened. Over the past couple of years, I’ve been learning more about myself as a person of color and how other people of color, specifically women, are treated in our society. While in college I had the privilege of being surrounded by people of color, to be immersed in my culture, but now that I’m back home in my white suburban hometown, I’m so removed from my people that it’s stifling. I went from being in a class with a powerful, intelligent Native Hawaiian woman, having her explain the complexities of my culture, of my people, of my history, to being here, where people equate cheap grass skirts and tiki print as “Hawaiian” when it could not be any further from it.

So I look for inspiration, to creators, women who are independent and strong and hardworking and what do I find? Nothing but pale skin and privilege. Turn on the radio, white, look up artwork, white, watching TV, white, they’re everywhere! I scroll through tumblr and see page after page of white creators. I see people white-washing and silencing Frida Kahlo. I see buttons and pins with phrases like “Not Your Babe” and pictures from shows like Twin Peaks, My So-Called Life, Freaks and Geeks, The Virgin Suicides, American Beauty, the list goes on. All these white people (mostly women from what I have personally seen), finding such inspiration in these phrases and shows and you know what I see, NOTHING. You know why? I’m not in these shows. Where am I?

When I was younger I was so excited when Lilo and Stitch came out. People used to call me Lilo because I looked just like her. I had the long black-brown hair, the brown skin, the big belly. I remember being so happy to find someone who looked just like me, someone who was strong and independent and around my age. So imagine my dismay when I discovered that Lilo was voiced by a little white girl. That the Lilo I grew up idolizing wasn’t voiced by a young girl from Hawai’i but a young white girl from Las Vegas. White Hollywood wouldn’t even let a brown animated character be voiced by an actual brown person.

And itʻs never gotten any easier. It’s 2015 and a film called Aloha just came out and who’s cast as a part-Hawaiian, part-Chinese woman? Emma Stone, a white woman. And what’s worse the film, which evokes a word very dear to the Hawaiian people, chronicles the lives of military men and woman. What a slap in the face of the Hawaiian people! A people whose land was illegally taken and occupied by the United States military and continues to be occupied till this day. How fucking dare they do that to us!

Well shit, I’m getting off topic now. I’m just so tired of struggling to find someone that looks like me. Why can’t the fucking media just stop whitewashing everything? I know the answer, they have to establish their domain over people of color. They have to make sure we’re self-hating and willing to dance on command. They need to make sure women of color are submissive and docile, and men of color are incarcerated. And most of all they have to make sure our experiences, our stories, our cultures, never see the light of day. God forbid we learn about our cultures in history class, that would make us far too dangerous for the status quo.

I just want to leave you with this. Last year I was sitting in my Hawaiian Mythology class at the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa, listening to Lilikala Kameʻeleihiwa lecture and as Iʻm taking notes she says “Hawaiian are known for our intelligence.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I dropped my pen and looked up to the front of the class. I could feel tears welling in my eyes as I realized that in the 21 years I had been alive, no one had ever told me that my people were intelligent. When I called my mom to tell her what I learned in class she reacted the same way. I could hear her smiling over the phone. To her, a woman who was FORBIDDEN from speaking Hawaiian in school, FORBIDDEN from learning about her people, she finally heard someone tell her that she is intelligent, that her people are intelligent, that weʻre so much more than shitty whitewashed luaus and plastic leis.

Art Supplies!!!

I finally did it! I finally dusted off my Amazon gift card and put that bad boy to use. Wanna know what I got? ART SHIT!!! Lately (well ever since I graduated college and have nothing to do besides trolling for jobs that I know are going to suck the life out of me), I've been into painting, specifically watercolors. Something about water colors takes me back to my fourth-grade art class with Mrs. Frailey, my eccentric badass art teacher who never gave any fucks. Now I've been in the market for a good quality watercolor pallet and Sakura's Koi 24-Piece Watercolor Pocket Field Sketch Box (that's a mouth full) came recommended on A LOT of different art blogs.

Not only is this watercolor set travel sized, it also comes with a pallet, a finger ring, and a portable water brush. And that's not even the best part, you can grab this set for less than $21. I know, mind blowing. I haven't actually tested out the colors to see the pigmentation, nor have I tested the water brush to see if it works as well as the brush set I have (it should since my brush set is pretty old and very well loved). The only complaint that I have is that when I opened the set, I noticed that some of the watercolors were literally popping out of their holders, like the glue used to keep them down was old or something. Nothing I can't handle myself.

 

To go along with my watercolor kit, I picked up a new sketchbook. I don't know about you, but I seem unable to find a good sketchbook that can handle wet media. I can't tell you how many times I've bought a sketchbook with the intent of using watercolors in it, only to be let down by low quality paper. So this time I did my research and picked up the Pen and Ink 3.5x5.5 Heavy Weight Blank Sketchbook. 

I can't really give too much information about this product because I haven't tried out the paper yet, but I ADORE the look and feel of the sketchbook. Also, I believe it's supposed to lie flat once it's been broken in so I'll update y'all on that. Oh the price for this sketchbook was around $8, which I think is a fair price for the size and amount of pages included (96-pages).

Lastly, I bought another 6-pack of my all-time favorite fine line pens. I say another because this will be my third repurchase of this product. Yes, I am talking about the Black Micron Fine Liner Pens. 

THE BEST BLACK LINER PENS EVER!!!

Newly purchased pens on the left. Greatly loved pens on the right. I can't get enough!

These pens are my holy grail purchase. I personally use them for doodling. I'll post some pictures of my work below to give you a better idea of how I use them. Their dark pigment and smooth lines make them perfect for this. However, I can't stand to use them for writing. I don't like the drag they have when I'm trying to write fast, it makes it hard to write. I see these used mostly for precision so that makes sense that they wouldn't be a useful writing tool. The six-pack retails for around $9.50. If you have a Joanns or Michaels around you I would suggest buying them there. They usually have a 50% off coupon. The price comes out to a just a little under $9.50, but you get your pack instantly and don't have to pay for shipping, which is nice.

Original Work done with Micron Fine Liner Pens & Sharpies

Work in progress. Used Micron Fine Liner Pens and Fine Line Sharpies

I can't tell you how thrilled I am with my purchase. I'm still waiting on a 3-Pack of Pentel Water brushes to come in so expect another art post when those arrive. 

'Til next  time,

X

Meet Baby Extraterrestrial Cyborg

Today I woke up early to make my mom’s breakfast and lunch and decided, after a nice hot cup of green tea mixed with honey, that I would be a productive member of society. I decided I would clean my room and fix up my desk and finally finish my ATC (artist trading card). Well, all that went out of the window when I found this. 

Yes, I have a secret false book and yes that's a floppy disk from the early 2000s, but don’t get too excited. My mom bought the 'book' for me so at any time she could rummage through it and find the EXTREMELY EMBARRASSING collection of letters, rants, random thoughts and ripped out journal entries that lay within its beautiful wooden exterior.

Most of the things I found were from middle school to high school and oh my lord I cannot believe the person that lay within these pages. Don’t believe me? I took the liberty of pulling some choice quotes from a six page Omegle chat log I decided was important enough to print and add into this collection of papers. 

Stranger: hahaha ur so cute
Me: Thank you
Stranger: yeah
Me: i think ur just saying that cuz im young
Stranger: no mayn
Stranger: i don't give a fuck
Stranger: u sound cute so i said so
Stranger: im not hitting on you
---
Me: if you were hitting on me that would be awkward
Stranger: yeah
Stranger: that's why i din't get naught with you
Me: i would have left if you did
Stranger: hahahhahah got it mayn
Stranger: ut a decent and beauti ful gal
---
Stranger: don't ever fuck ur rep by sleeping with random guys
Me: i dont plan to
Stranger: yea
Stranger: i know
Stranger: but baby sometimes it happens
Me: not to me im very goal oriented
Stranger: ppl gete horny n end up with nasty things
End of conversation
(Note by me)
My internet disconnected...
---

Disgusted yet? Because I sure as fuck am. Who is this sad, obviously self-conscious girl? Who the hell is that? I mean for one, the guy is a prick, plain and simple. Two, I obviously have no confidence in myself whatsoever, and three, the slut shaming that I am complicit in is just horrible. And what’s scary is that not much has changed. I’ve still never been on a date, never kissed another person (romantically), had sex, or smoked weed and this is three years later. Although, I have a feeling that I wasn’t actually 18 when I had this conversation because I had the bad habit of claiming that I was older than I was so men would talk to me.

Pathetic right? Well, that’s what I thought when I first read it. I wished that I could travel back in time and slap some sense into that girl typing to this predator. But, then I realized I was bred by society and ate its propaganda up like it was a delicious loaf of freshly baked bread. I was supposed to be modest, to lie about my age, my weight, to distance myself from girls who were “less pure” than me, to feel more superior than those girls, and most importantly, I was supposed to be flattered that a man, no matter his age, found me attractive.

GOD DAMN DID I SIP THE KOOLAID OR WHAT? I mean, I was a cookie cutter cut out of the perfect teenage girl, the little angel with a superiority complex, and where did that get me. At 15, I hated my body. At 16, I went on a strict diet, eating less than 1200 calories while working out for an hour and a half every day at after school tennis practice. At 17, I calculated the exact day it would take me to lose 50 pounds and finally be the size that I wanted. I translated that date into roman numerals and wrote it out in beautiful script so that when that day came I could have it permanently tattooed on my body. I would wear it as a badge of honor and when people inevitably asked me “how I did it,” I would shrug and lie through my teeth, “It just came off. I didn’t do anything.” Because ‘real women’ didn’t have to diet to have good bodies, they were born with them. By 18, I hated taking pictures of myself, hated looking at myself in the mirror, hated everything about the way I looked. I told myself no boy would want to date me because I didn’t look right, and ignored the strong feelings I had for the girl I could hardly keep my eyes off of in my Algebra 2 class, and then later in my Statistics class. The girl who called me funny and beautiful and made me feel like I could never catch my breath. 

That’s who baby Extraterrestrial Cyborg was. She didn’t fit in. She was fat and brown and hairy and strong-willed and young and confused about her sexuality and perfect. She stood out in a way she wouldn’t appreciate until much later. She made people uncomfortable, forced them outside of their narrow-minded idea of who a teenage cis girl is supposed to be. I appreciate her so much for that. If she didn’t go through that awful, self-hatred, I would never be the woman I am today. Don’t get me wrong, I still carry a lot of baggage from my younger days, in truth it’s hard not too because the propaganda never ends. I still struggle with the idea that I need to perform for cis men, that I need to carry myself in a way that makes me seem desirable, that I need to hide certain aspects of my personality or outright lie about who I am, in order to garner their attention. While I think it’s getting easier, mostly due to my realization that I am not hetero by any means, it’s still something I am constantly having to deal with.

If you’re reading this and you’re feeling any of these thoughts, I really hope this speaks to you. I won’t patronize you by saying “it gets better” because I’m not in a position to make that statement. What I will say is you will change, adapt, and your past self will become a stranger to your present self. I think that’s the way we work. I hope your life is filled with enough struggles and hardships and pressure to turn you into the lovely gems you are destined to be. And when we get there, I hope we can all come together and say we made. We did it. This is us and we’re not going anywhere.  

Film Review: Fire Walk With Me

Release Year: 1992

Genre: Horror, mystery, thriller

Writers: Davin Lynch, Richard Engels, Mark Frost

I reserved Fire Walk With Me after a three week Twin Peaks marathon with my mom. I was particularly interested in watching this film because, for the first time in the Twin Peaks franchise, Laura Palmer would be alive and ready to tell the story of her short-lived life. Or at least I thought she would. While Laura was, in fact, alive, I found myself extremely disappointed. Yes the film remained true to its tv start, the creepy just off key jazz music was there, the horrible acting was there, even the over the top teenage angst was there. However, what wasn’t there was Laura’s voice. She wasn’t telling her story, she wasn’t claiming her narrative. She was placed in the backseat, yet again.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the melodrama in the film. The unmistakable “soap-opera-esque” vibe running in and out of the dialouge. I think this is one of the reasons for the series’ cult following. While it covers serious topics such as rape, incest, and murder, the film, and franchise in general, never takes itself too seriously. In the moments when Laura deals with these serious issues, Sheryl Lee delivers thoroughly overacted performance that could be ripped directly from your mother’s favorite soap opera star. The result is this eerie mix of the macabre and the absurd that I’m a little unsure how to handle.

My main problem with this film is its point-of-view. Throughout the Twin Peaks television series, the audience gets to know Laura Palmer through the residents of Twin Peaks. Laura was brave, strong-willed, and kind in some moments, and dismissive, cruel and self-destructive in others. The mystery of Laura Palmer is a large part of the appeal of the series. After all, ‘who killed Laura Palmer’ is the tagline of the show. While the audience learned of the killer in the series, the mystery of Laura still evades us. Fire Walk With Me presented Lynch with the perfect opportunity to provide an answer to Laura through her personal narrative, to give her a voice in her own story. Instead, the film is filled with gratuitous scenes that focus solely on Laura’s sexual exploits. By no means are these moments untouchable, Laura Palmer’s Secret Diary, written by Jennifer Lynch, revolves around Laura’s sexual experiences. However, Fire Walk With Me feels very voyeuristic and at moments, violating.

After reading Laura Palmer’s Secret Diary, I can’t help but feel enraged. Here’s a girl whose whole life has been a string of violating sexual experiences, a victim of rape and sexual assault at twelve who decides to become all the things that older men and women want her to be. Roles that range from the mother, the virgin, the high school slut, the little girl, the list goes on. Her life is a story of survival, of ultimate adaptation, of extreme strength and courage, yet the film chooses to ignore that narrative for a “sexier” version of Laura Palmer. Laura Palmer as drug addict, Laura Palmer as prostitute, Laura Palmer as unrepentant accomplice to murder. She’s still forced to put on a show for us. She cannot be who she truly was, a teenaged girl who, due to the circumstances of her life, was forced to become her worst nightmare in order to survive. A girl who sought out drugs as a way to numb herself to the horrors of her life. A girl who was truly living in a horror story of proportions few would understand.

Why Lynch chose this image of Laura is a question I can’t seem to answer. Why would he do such a disservice to the woman who garnered him so many followers? Why? Part of me reaches for the obvious and readily available answer, sexism. It’s littered everywhere. Who is at the receiving end of almost all the violence in this franchise? Women. Theresa. Ronnette. Maddy. Annie. Audrey. Shelly. The list continues. When you think about it, Nadine and Josie are the only female characters that inflict any damage on men and both were framed to be heartless (Nadine was shown mistreating Ed, and Josie was painted to be a black widow instead of focusing on her past as a victim of sexual abuse and prostitution.)

Maybe I’m reaching? Maybe Lynch meant to explain more about Laura as the series progressed but never got the chance to? Who knows? What I can suggest is to read Laura Palmer’s Secret Diary. The diary shows a more complete version of Laura, a version curated by Laura herself. (And surprise, surprise it happens to be written by Jennifer Lynch, a woman). After reading this, I felt such a strong connection to her character. In Twin Peaks and Fire Walk With Me, Laura hardly feels real, she feels constructed, immaterial, incomplete. But in her diary, Laura comes alive. I can feel her presence in the words. If you want to feel some closure about Laura, read her diary, read her words and stay away from Fire Walk With Me.