Drowning

It feels as if there is no air left in my lungs.
I cannot see anything clearly, and everything around me sounds muffled.
The voice in my head says give up, but I continue to climb to the surface.
The light is blinding. The warmth of the light against my skin feels as if everything is going to be okay, but it is so cold in these moments.
Like I will never escape the cold.
It surrounds me.
It is as if I am being dragged down into the depths of darkness.
But there is always a way out.
I struggle to get to the surface.
And as I pull myself out of the depths, my lungs are filled with fresh air again.
Like I have been reborn.
The sun gently beaming onto my face as I regain my thoughts.

Female Self

Being a female is not easy. Anyone female who says it is is lying. It isn’t easy being anyone in this massive world we live in. But the amount of disgusting things that get thrown around visually and verbally towards women is horrid. We live in a world where people, even women themselves, think it is natural to have ‘porn-star tits’. Well it isn’t. Being a person in this world we are all different. It is horrible to even think that once we all thought the same way. And it starts when we are children. We are all different. No woman is the same. And not everyone gets that. Its frustrating. Because in this massive world we live in, with the technology we have, there are still people who have such a closed mind. Men look at the female body only seeing it as a sexual entity, making women also begin to think that. There is nothing wrong with being sexual, but on a daily basis that is not how we feel our bodies are. Our bodies are something that can either give us power and confidence, or destroy us. But that is more the mental side. We should be proud of who we are and the way we look. Not comparing ourselves to other women like how some men do. We should not be looked upon and be seen as weak. But as strong Human Beings.

Strokes upon the canvas

As the brush moves across the canvas, the picture comes to life within the colours and dimensions of paint. The layer upon layers of paint that moves across the canvas is building upon an image that will be utterly mesmerising. The life that this is going to have is utterly incredible. I move with the music and the brush, I feel the emotion of the image coming to life. Something that is truly special. The colours move with the emotion of the painting. It is unforgettable. It is something that can never be forgotten. It is like how every artist feels when they know something great is coming.

Grounded.

I press the button and wait for the sign to tell me it is ready for me.
People walk out until there is no one left inside.
I walk in, press number 25 and watch the doors close in front of me.
It continues to move upwards but as it gets higher it begins to go slower.
No one is getting on, no one at all.
Shouldn’t there be someone going to level 25?
As I feel it moving upwards, I begins to feel my knees give out.
It is like the higher I move the less I feel safe.
I am in the air right now, in the air in a box.
It stops. The doors open. I peel myself off the floor to reach the other side.
I get up and walk to the window.
My heart drops.
A door opens from an apartment.
“Hey! You made it!”
I look at him.
Nope. I can’t do this.
I press the button frantically.
It’s ready for me.
The trip down is even worse. Like I’m falling.
I get down to the ground floor and run outside onto a patch of grass.
The sun beaming down onto me.
He followed me down to the ground floor.
“You truly are someone who is grounded.”
I look at him and laugh. We both laughed.

Climbing to the top

[A woman walks into the stairwell and puts her things down and gets her outfit sorted. She picks her things up off the floor and looks up.]
I look up upon what seems to be a thousand steps to my desired destination.
I have never seen so many steps in my short life.
I ponder at the long echoing stairwell for a brief moment.
I gasp then make my way up.
I have never heard so many voices coming from a stairwell.
Maybe it is the voices of the people in the offices next to the stairwell.
Maybe it is the voices of the ghosts of the office telling me it is not a good place to work.
Maybe it is the voices in my head saying I will make it to the top.
Maybe I should start going to the gym.
Maybe it is the voices of people who have died in this stairwell getting to their interview.
Will I get this job?
Will I even like the job?
Will they even like me?
Will I start going to the gym?
Will I ever stop talking to myself… ?
Not so easy to climb these steps.
Not going to be easy getting this job.
Not going to fuck it up.
Not going to get nervous.
Not going to piss myself… Better go to the toilet before I go in.
Why did the stupid elevator have to be broken?
Why did the train have to arrive after it broke?
Why am I even thinking about leaving my old shitty job? Oh right cause its shitty.
Why did I have to do design?
Why am I doing this.
Finally made it to the top, hope I didn’t forget anything.
[As she enters the office door and leaves the stairwell, at the bottom of what seems to be a thousand steps is a folder labelled: Design Folio]

Sardines.

So many people on trains at specific times. It is like the world is crammed into these moving tin cans that also happen to be an obstacle because the train is moving but you aren’t. It’s like time stops on trains. When people are crammed together like sardines, it doesn’t matter if you smile at them or give them a dirty look, no one talks to each other. Like we are in a world where no one exists, but we are all touching each other. It’s that awkward moment where you realise you have to continue touching a complete stranger and ignore the fact that they are ignoring you. Your eyes don’t know where to look, so you look somewhere else, but there is someone over on the other side also trying to avoid eye contact with the stranger they are touching. So you revert to the floor, but someone shorter than you is staring up at you. There is no where to run. We are all sardines in a tin can.

As the world moves past.

There is something almost cinematic when you are sitting in the back seat of a car with your headphones on watching the world go past you, as nothing is next to you apart from your bag and a jacket. When it is sunny and the sky is blue, through the shade of the sun glasses you are wearing makes you feel like life is beautiful. Especially when the windows are down and the wind is in your face. When it is cold and raining, you look out onto the window and you watch the droplets race down the the bottom. Whilst secretly you are betting on the one droplet that you think is going to win. When there is no sun, or rain, but it is just a grey day, you cannot help but stare out the window and think about the sad things in life. When the trees shed their leaves, and the sun peaks through the clouds, that’s when you know that the world is starting new, which makes you think you are too.

Travel Monologue #2

Joana – Occupation: Student
Current mood: Over everything
Destination: Back home to a nice warm bed

04/05/2016 Approx. 9:50pm

At least now I don’t have to sit in the cold.
After a morning of a freezing cold lecture, to being in just my shirt whilst I get photographed, then being stressed out of not shooting,  and needing to pee. This is the most solitude I have gotten all day.
Once again I am thinking about the day ahead. It is such a pain in the butt.
But when I think about it, I get to not work at night and have things to do, and not really do anything because it is a chill day. I also get a break. Number one plus.
The world is still right now. Not moving. Just Still.
Two more minutes until the world begins to move again. And everyone travels towards their destination.
Will I have anything to say? Probably. I always have something to say.
The thought of doing work when I get home passes my mind, or watching behind the scenes once again. Probably the second option. It’s always the second option.
Someone talking about movies. A guy. Love when people talk about movies you like. It’s brilliant. Even more so because he is British. Love British people.
I think I could have been British in a past life. Just seems as if everything draws me to the UK.
That why I think about moving there. I feel like there will be more options and more of a life for me over there. What can I get here in Australia? The most racist country in the world. Nothing. Mostly. The only good thing I ever got was Brad and my friends. If I just move all of us over there it will be perfect.
People come onto trains like there is nowhere to sit. But it’s only because they don’t want to sit with other people, unless desperate. I mean I am the same. Don’t want a stranger sitting next to me this time of the day.
Man there are so many people at MC right now.
Ugh. People.
Surprisingly today went better than expected. There are things that can be used. But just hoping that everything is usable and that I have done my job right. Otherwise I will be so pissed off.
Looking in the reflection trying to see the city. Can’t see a thing. Too dark.
Short hair looks more like me on the other hand. I don’t know why I didn’t do it earlier. But I know that it will happen again. Soon.
Heart still traumatized from today.
I’ll deal with it.
Have work only once again next week. Got to make sure that happens again for the week after.
Things are getting crazy.
The shoot went well. Just need to start putting things together. I want all the photos so I can make something truly weird and artsy. But also abstract.
Love that shit.
Damn there are a lot of people.
Might write up everything from my hand written journal for my art project and put it up on the blog. Seems like the smart thing to do. Can’t really do anything else. The process will be up on the blog.
Every time I get on the train, no matter what time, it always seems the same. Nowhere to sit and crowded. Needing sleep. But TV shows on today.
Ugh. Hashtag first world problems.

Travel Monologue #1

Alexis – Occupation: Artist
Current Mood: Unfazed, tired and drained
Destination: To city

03//05/2016 Approx. 3:10pm

Can you see what I see? Can you hear what I hear?
I feel the earth moving around me, whilst I sit in this chair pondering about how I got to such a strange place, in such a strange city. I feel no emotion towards the people that surround me, it’s like some sort of dream I have conjuring up in my mind. Is it even real?
When I stare out the window it is like there is something that is following me. A dark shadow that is trying to catch up with me. Sometimes we race. I see how long I can go without it watching my every move. I lose most of the time.
The clouds are grey and gloomy, my eyes pull focus on the builds outside to the rain on the window.
It is a sign that the shadow is coming for me. It always wins.
Upon the buildings and crowds, everyone has their shadow. And I don’t mean when you stand in the sun and behind you there is a figure representing you own. That is harmless.
No, this shadow is a dark cloud that catches up to you know and then. It consumes you, and your thoughts, and does not stop eating away at your soul until you have had enough.
We can never escape it, but we can change the way it makes us feel.
I just let it chase me now. And even though it wins the race, I win the war because I am still standing.
The city looks dark. Or blurry from the fog around it. When the skies are grey the ocean looks greener. Like it is trying to tell everyone that it is sick. No hint of blue. Just green.
We are drifting closer and closer into the city, and the more we do, the more dread I feel. It does not feel good to dread. It’s hard when you do not know what to expect, but at the same time, I do and still dread it anyway.
I look around and the world seems to match the sky. Dark, grey foggy, and unhappy. People do not care on how the world feels though. It is only about their own emotions. Aren’t there any boundaries to how people can treat the world?
No one likes to talk to other people much. Honestly I don’t either. When I sit by myself, I think about the day, and what is to come.
God the city is beautiful. Sometimes I wonder how it would feel to live in the city, and how I would cope. One day I will know. There is so much hidden beauty in travelling from home to another place. No matter how close or far it is. We see things, but do we really see them? We hear things, but do we really hear them?
So many colours. I’m surprised people don’t disorientated by how many there are just by looking out the window.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone can see my shadow sitting upon my shoulder. Sometimes I can see other peoples. Sometimes it is easy to see because they aren’t hiding it.
And now there is nothing else to say.

 

Approx. 7:30pm

My mind is tired. It is now night time. I can’t really see anything out the window apart from the lights that pass by. When I turn my head to look out, all I can see is myself and the others around me.
Night time looks so beautiful. As the light pass by, the darkness glows. It gets ruined as there is fully lit places. It is the same amount of noise as it was when I was going to the city, and the same amount of people. They begin to die off as the step outside. Nothing really goes through my mind apart from how tiring it is to travel. It is something that is exciting but draining at the same time. I cannot put my finger on it, but there is something that seems weird about being out travelling at night. There are a lot of questions that go through my mind like, where have they been? Where are they going? It’s dark, have they got a lift home? Nothing really prepares you for questions about other people. They kind of just go through the mind. Dreading tomorrow. That is usually one of the things I think about whilst travelling. Thinking about the next day. As today ends, tomorrow begins. Ugh. I am going to be out all day. Not going to be home until at least 10:30pm. Then I have work the next day at 9am. God. Not looking forward to those days at all. Thursday evening will be a victory moment. I will have survived the two stupidest days of my life this week. Bored out of my mind. Out of my mind.

Music equals Soul

Music is a universal language. It allows people to come together and enjoy something that feels bigger than themselves. Music allows us to express who we are, by showing others the artists that connect to our personalities. Music is something that we cannot escape, nor does anyone want to escape from. It brings us life and company when we do not feel like we are doing well in our lives. Music gives us that comfort when we are far away from home, and we hear a song that resonates with being home. It gives us that push to continue on when things get hard. It puts a smile on our face when nothing else seems to do the trick. There is something that moves within us when music comes on. Allowing us to dance passionately, or head bang, or even rave. Music is the essence of life. It is the songs of peoples experiences that connect to our very core. Music is the one thing that will never change. It will always be with us, continuing on the journey of self discovery as we all are doing. Nothing else can be as big as that. We carry it from when we were children, up to adulthood, up to old age. Music equals our Soul. Everyone’s soul.