Part of Your World

To get what she wants (travel, experience of another culture),

Ariel must trade in her voice

But, without my voice how can I-

You have your looks!

Your pretty face!

Because a princess from the most powerful, if not only, kingdom under the sea,

Has nothing to communicate with

Beyond BODY LANGUAGE

For as we all know, and has been well documented,

Disney exists to reinforce the patriarchy

And the notion that girls/women are there to be looked at

Not heard

And certainly not to use their skills to expand their horizons

Or fulfill their deepest wishes

Ariel is educated

She is an explorer and hungry for knowledge

I’m ready to know what the people know

She can grasp metaphorical concepts beyond her own experience

What’s a fire, and why does it, what’s the word?

BURN?!

She has a shining shimmering treasure trove,

A complete collection of human paraphernalia

Organized by type

But beyond things, Ariel wants more

Our mermaid heroine has feminist notions of a utopian place/time  

Where educated women have freedom

To do as they please, speak out, and move freely

Betcha on land, they understand

Bet they don’t reprimand their daughters!

Bright young women, always swimmin’

Ready to stand

Clearly these notions don’t come from Daddy

Who would rather Ariel find a nice merman

Settle down

And make merbabies 

Ariel signs the scroll in developed cursive handwriting

Suggesting an education beyond kindergarten level

Unlike her father Triton, who only engages with other species through domination,

(His page is a seahorse, his music director is a crab)

Or banishment,

(Ursula. Can’t have educated powerful women floating around the kingdom. Might give young girls ideas.),

Ariel can relate with other species without power struggle.

Her best friend is a fish

Her teacher is a seagull.

We know Ariel has overcome her childhood conditioning of

Other = evil

And if we go beyond the miracle of cross-species communication

(In the magical world of Disney merpeople can communicate with all forms of aquatic life, and with humans;

Everybody conveniently speaks English)

Why does Ariel not use her many other skills, beyond her body, to communicate?

In all her collection of bottles and human knick knacks

Does she not possess a message in a bottle?

Why doesn’t she write in the sand?

Use seashells to spell out a message?

Use her ability to talk to animals to ask the fireflies to spell it out?

Hi Eric! Remember me? I rescued you!

I’m totes in love with you!

Wanna hang out? 

Beyond the recent reduction of genuine kick-ass feminist role models

To big-eyes, sparkly dresses, and insane privilege

Give me characters who use their wit

And education

To go out into the world

And use their voice

In whatever way they can

To progress and flourish

And inspire those around them to do the same

Now that is something worth singing about. 

The end. 

Blue Stockings at The Globe

from here

Suddenly you find yourself

Inside The Globe! 

The detailed recreation

Of what once was 

Shakespeare's playground

There is a feeling of exhilaration

The theatre has been beautifully re-created
The whole thing is utterly stunning
The grand columns
The box seats

The wide open space on the floor for 

The "Groundlings" 

The long and narrow thrust stage

Cutting through the middle 

The floor is concrete

You try to imagine layers of straw and dust and dirt and grime

At the apex of the stage
A balcony,

Its windows closed for now
It seems Juliet could fling them open and lean over the railing and "ah me" at any moment

The boxes right above the stage with their richly coloured frescoes 

You can imagine royalty sitting there

Sitting to be seen 

Even from the position of the pleb

You really can see everybody 

The audience watching each other

Playing a game of being

The audience 

The way you see sky when you look directly up

There's something dramatic about Shakespeare and sky together

The sky is pale blue

Translucent thin whispy clouds
It's the end of the day
Mild, not too hot, not too cold

Tonight's play is called Blue Stockings

Rear centre stage a small drum kit and a music stand
A small balcony above, more music stands, a trumpet, lights for the musicians

(You forgive the modern intrusion)

The columns have been made to look like book shelves

The play is about the fight for women's access to college education

And the fight

At the end of the 19^thC

For the right for women attending college to graduate

There is something tongue-in-cheek

About a feminist play being produced

At the Globe

It is beautifully produced
It is refreshing to see a genuine issue discussed, dissected
The relevance of women's education
The prejudice we faced
Still face

Through the play we see their struggle

And sacrifice

And we are heart broken

It is easy for a modern day, predominantly white, presumably educated audience to laugh at history

“I can’t believe he just said that!!”

Chortle.

But in this year, the year 2013

University fees are so prohibitively expensive

Many will not be able to attend university at all

Last year a teenage girl was shot in the head

For daring to speak out and fight for her right

To an education

And even still, today, right now

Men continue to try and ultimately control women

Deny access to basic human rights

Blue Stockings offers no solutions

Only that we must go on

Must continue learning

For the sake of learning

To inspire great minds

To allow people to go out into the world and achieve their fullest potential

To understand and to dream

I am incredibly aware of the privilege

That has bought me to be standing in the middle of The Globe

One night at the end of summer

The fact that I am a university graduate

With two degrees to my name

The fact I got to go to school at all

Is a fight

That was won

Before I was born

But is still being fought

In a treacherous warzone

History and story-telling

The stories that have resonated throughout

The Globe

To demand an understanding of history

So that we may imagine

The meticulous re-construction

Of a better place

The end. 

Brave

When I watched
The Disney movie
Brave
Over the summer
There was a moment
When I thought
Wouldn't be cool
If the princess
Merida
Was allowed to be single
Was allowed to be
A woman
With skills
And a thirst for knowledge
Going out into the world
And living her life
And achieving her goals
And dreaming her dreams
Without having to
Be a dainty princess
Or one day marry a prince?

Because
Despite what Disney
And Hollywood portray
There are many
Women in the world
Who don't marry
Who don't have children
Who are bright
And worldly
Who are not crazy crones
Or wicked witches
There are many women
Who do marry
But stay
Independent
And remain powerful in their own right

I want role models
In life
Like Elizabeth Gilbert
Who
Ate and prayed and loved
And consciously decided
She didn't want to be a mother
Wanted to be a writer
And globe trotter
And embracer of life

Or like Rita Golden Gelman
Who sold her possessions
And went traveling
And met people
And ate beautiful food
And said
You CAN travel the world
As a single woman
And you can have a marvelous time doing it

I wish Disney
Would tell stories where
It is okay to be a spirited single woman
It is okay to not want to get married
To not to have children
And that being You
Makes you beautiful
And powerful
And feminine
And not at all crony
That would be the
Bravest story
Of all.

The end.

This is Me Breathing

from here

Arriving back in London 

After three weeks in a cabin in the woods

Is an assault on the senses

The advertising

The people 

The rush.

Within ten minutes of getting off the plane

I could feel 

Depression

Anxiety

Rising 

And on a day where I feel bleary because I spent the night flying across the Atlantic

To arrive in a city that, try as I might, doesn't feel like home

To travel in peak hour and feel like the stereotype of a: 

Sardine in a can/rat on a treadmill/tiny insignificant speck

To see all those miserable people! 

To stand in the shower and sob because I was back

To feel like the cabin in the woods was a dream

To miss my love across the ocean 

I had a thought. 

I don’t want to get sucked in to the misery 

I don’t want to be hardened by the city

I don’t want to feel helpless hopeless and horrified

I want to see beyond the billboards and concrete tunnels 

And hear something other than

I can’t/It’s too hard/it’s so tough 

So here is a promise to myself

Everyday

I will write about something inspiring 

Something magical, beautiful, delightful,

Just plain old nice

And hope 

It makes a difference.

The end. 

Mary Poppins She Wrote

Mary Poppins came into my life

Because she floated daily

Into our loungeroom

The VHS watched and rewound and re-watched

So endlessly 

That the tape eventually died 

There has always been Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane

The toys have always flown into their cupboards with a click

Julie Andrews has always been Mary Poppins 

Years later 

On an excursion for Writing History

A pre-honours class in research and writing

The librarian at the State Library has pulled out a stack of papers 

Random examples of the items held there

The letters of P.L. Travers 

Did you know that the author of the Mary Poppins books,

Upon which the movie was based,

Was an Australian? 

That there were disagreements between the original author and Disney

(Corporation betraying the Writer) 

Graduation, a world trip, heart break, meditation, later

I was running in a park

And found a statue of Mary Poppins

(Unveiled by my aunt!) 

To commemorate that P.L. Travers had lived in Sydney

Just a few blocks from my house 

Another time

Listening to Mornings with Margaret

A fascinating interview with Valerie Lawson

About the biography she has written 

The thought, “I must read that”

Filed away and forgotten 

Later, in London 

Wandering through the library 

And Valerie Lawson’s Mary Poppins She Wrote 

Sitting there on the shelf

And from the woods of Virginia I read

P.L. Travers

Never identified as Australian

Had left and, but for one short visit, never returned

Felt New York was her spiritual home 

Hated the movie 

Never found love

Never found peace

Was eternally searching 

Knowing the postscript is delicious 

And heart-breaking

And joyous 

Where do I fit? 

I’m no P.L. Travers

I haven’t even been published yet

And yet something stirs

Identifies 

And today,

The sky is blue.

The end. 

What do you do with a BA in English?

Sitting in my robes in Royal Festival Hall
Graduating with a Masters
I feel like I'm six years old playing make believe
The robe keeps slipping off my shoulders
The ridiculous hat keeps sliding down my forehead
It doesn't feel real
This past year. I still can't quite put it into words.

I thought that with my Masters
I would be amazing,
But I still don't feel like I am.
I still can't belt an E
I have worse stage fright now than when I started
I want to be brilliant yesterday
I want to be wonderful super fantastic coolness remarkable
Right now!
What does it mean exactly to "have potential"?
What do they see that I, still, after all this, can't access?

What do I want to be when I grow up?
I want to be Mary Poppins and Maureen Johnson and Miss Honey
I want to sing and dance and act and write
What I really want is to play roles I've written myself
Perform my own material
I want to travel
I want own my own house
I want to live in the same continent as my love
I want to sing and be able to write good music
I want the praise of my superiors and my cohort
I want to feel accepted
I want to be happy within myself and proud of my own achievements

What do you do with a BA in English (/History)?
You travel the world
You fall in love
You have visions of living in happily married bliss on the leafy north shore
And you have your heart broken
And you re-assess
And you say "fuck it".
And you leave everything you know and move to a whole other country
Where everything is the same but different
And you deny that you're experiencing culture shock because you are already
Widely Traveled
and Older than the average student
And have Life Experience

But really, you're still young
You're still at the beginning
Even though actually you're already part of the way
And actually,
No one knows what is next
No idea.
It's what makes people scared, greedy, snide, arrogant
Everything
Because none of us knows what is next
Yes we can dream, we can plan,
VITAL!
But actually, we have no idea
It doesn't scare me
(actually it does, but, in this moment, it's liberating)
I can do whatever I choose.

The Principal of the School at Graduation
Do something every day that scares you
Today, again, I choose to blaze a trail of my own
To remember to stop looking around me and totally freaking out that the other peoples paths look better or different to mine
In the words of Elle Woods
I've got to find my way 
In the words of Sondheim
It's our time, breathe it in, worlds to change and worlds to win

What do you do with a BA in English (/History)?
You get an MA in Music Theatre,
You take a deep breath
And -

A Room of One's Own

Imagine realizing that Virigina Woolf

Walked the streets of London

As you are doing

You knew it as a fact in the back of your mind somewhere

Virginia Woolf lived in London

But to suddenly encounter it

To be living it is a whole other matter

To know that she once stood beneath the arches of the British Museum

And looked up at the names inscribed into the walls

And thought,

All this knowledge! How will I ever come to terms with it?

And to sit reading

A Room of One’s Own

Whilst sitting in a room of one’s own!

In London! 

Is entirely novel

And wonderful and funny and joyous.

Because six years ago

You read Mrs Dalloway

And looked at women and fiction

And you never even imagined 

Even for a moment

That one day

You would have a room of one’s own.

And the best bit? 

The glorious romance novel cliche of it?

Reading the writings of Viriginia Woolf

In your very own window seat

Overlooking the garden

Overlooking the rooftops of London

And you are independent 

And you are free to speak your mind

And perform upon the stage 

And write

And do exactly as you please.

And you thank all the people who have bought you here. 

And you thank Virginia Woolf for paving the way for women writers (even if her end was tragic). 

And you think of all the women that didn’t, and still don’t, have this privilege. 

And you resolve to keep writing. And keep singing. And keep acting. And hope that you too can make a difference.

The end. 

On the Steps of the Palace

Imagine one day you’re in London 

and you’re Living The Dream! 

You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life

And suddenly here you are!

At one of the top drama schools in the world!

And every day you climb the steps to the school and 

Literally engraved into the rise of the steps

Are the names of people who’ve been here before.

People who have “Made It”

In the profession

This crazy business like no other.

Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?

What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?

What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?

When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the worry, or the anxiety. 

Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?! 

Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say, “Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince?! An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”

Because what if you are, 

What a prince would envision?

Although how can you know

Who you are till you know

What you want, which you don’t?

You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue, without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal. 

You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes, “Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.

The end.

I Could Write A Book

And it's nearly 1am
And you're wired
Because you've spent the last seven hours reading about musicals in Australia
And you're a bit frustrated because you can't access all the journals you need to
And the more you read the more you want to know
And every now and then you have "ah ha!" moments
And you feel like you get it and it all makes sense
And then you re-read your notes and realize you need more material to back up what you're thinking
But you have a mighty list to go and tackle the British Library with tomorrow
And that makes you so excited
Because you love learning and reading and theorizing and trying to make sense of it all
And you're really grateful you did that podcast thing last year
Because you have all these quotes and useful bits and pieces up your sleeve
And your sensible self tells you to GO TO BED ALREADY!
But your inner writer needs to VENT!
And your soul needs to calm down because it's so excited
So you promise that NOW you will go brush your teeth, and meditate, and journal, and sleep
To start all over again tomorrow
The end.

You'll Never Walk Alone

http://www.sharonwheatley.com/

Sometimes you are down and out and feeling really crappy. And you feel like drama school is just code for "expensive creative therapy." And you've spent the day questioning yourself and doubting yourself and feeling super frustrated that your top notes aren't where you want them to be. And feeling like It Is All Really Hard. And then you come home and you make a massive batch of rice and lentils and carrot and leek and beans which you stuff into freshly baked capsicums and your flatmate has cleaned the bathroom and it doesn't feel so share-housey anymore and you have an amazing internet connection which gives you access to the world. And you have a really good cry. And then you stumble across blogs of Broadway actresses and you read them and remember that "the journey" is at times just "hard" but dear child, you never walk alone. And you can still smile. And you can still be inspired. And you can go to bed feeling like the sun will come out tomorrow. The end.

Anything Can Happen

Imagine that as a child you watched Mary Poppins on repeat and there are countless million times you have watched Mary float down from the sky and dish out coloured spoonfuls of goodness and hold the beak of her umbrella and say that will be quite enough of that thank you! And as that little child you wished and prayed that Mary would one day actually fly into your world. And then imagine one day you are living in a place you have never lived before and one morning you go out for a jog. And you are in the park and next to the playground you spy a statue of Mary Poppins. And there she is with her feet in perfect first position and her umbrella held above her head and the familiarity of her makes you gasp. And even more surprising is the discovery that P.L. Travers (who wrote the original books upon which the movie was based) once lived just a short jog from your house. And the person who unveiled the statue six years ago is your aunty. And it is surprising. And it is lovely. And your inner six year old says that is too cool. Mary Poppins lives at my park. 

  

Melbourne

image from ineedaholiday

Once upon a time yesterday there was a girl called Lulu who liked musicals very much. She liked them so much that one she decided to fly all by herself from Sydney to Melbourne to see some new musicals. So she booked her ticket and off she went. When she got there she was very excited because her hostel was right by the river and in walking distance to Federation Square and the Melbourne Arts Centre, which are both very lovely. 

After walking down by the riverside and admiring all the pretty sculptures lining the riverbank, Lulu took herself to the Australian Centre for the Moving Image to see the current exhibition, “Dreams Come True: The Art of Disney’s Classic Fairy Tales”. Lulu spent a few happy hours wandering the halls of the exhibit, admiring how clever the people at the Disney Studio were and still are, and getting a little bit teary at all the lovely princess stories and remembering just how much they are a part of her psyche, even if her university educated feminist self says that the messages they espouse are a little bit dated. The critical part in Lulu’s mind also wondered about the stories not being told in the exhibit, for example, why/how/when did the Walt Disney Brothers Studios become just the Walt Disney Studios. Lulu remembered from her university days that there is a lot of story being told in what is purposefully left out, and she made a mental note to investigate it further later on. 

Then Lulu made a mad dash for the Melbourne Arts Centre, which was luckily just a hop, skip, and a jump across the river. She collected her ticket, and went downstairs into the Fairfax Theatre to watch Program One of Carnegie 18, a new musical theatre development program. In short, it was utterly wonderful (if you would like to hear the longer version of this part of the story you will need to keep an eye on Flusical for Episode 6: Carnegie 18). Lulu laughed, cried, held her breath, and was filled with utter excitement at the high level of talent, and the wonderful new works on display. In the interval she met a lovely lady named Jan, who happened to be the editor of Australian Stage Online, the newsletter in which Lulu found out the London Central School was holding Sydney auditions. Lulu thanked Jan profusely for changing her life for 2011, and with much discussion about musicals and Australian theatre to be had, Lulu and Jan sat above the river eating wicked but utterly delicious treats.

In the late afternoon, Lulu was lucky enough to interview Vanessa Pigrum, the Artistic Director of Carnegie 18, for Flusical. Vanessa was very lovely, and Lulu was left feeling inspired and ready to take on the world. The second program of Carnegie 18 was equally as exciting and moving as the first program, and Lulu was particularly taken by the new opera about netball. She had no idea that the drama of netball could be so fitting for an opera. Or that sopranos could be so funny. 

By now the sun had set over Melbourne, and while most other folk were watching the tennis, Lulu made back for her hostel. Sitting in the kitchen writing up her notes for the day, Lulu had a wonderful conversation with a Canadian traveller. They talked about politics and nations and the state of the world and indigenous affairs and national identity. It was very lovely, and it was only when the kitchen was closed for the night did the conversation come to an end.

Four hours later Lulu was back at the airport, and by now she was very tired from her grand adventure and severe lack of sleep. Thankfully adrenalin and inspiration were abundant, and helped her to stay awake throughout the day so she could work, edit the next episode of the podcast, and write about her adventures. And then she collapsed into bed to dream about all things musical. 

The end.

Bits of Lovely

Amy Krouse Rosenthal is a Chicago based American artist, author, and all round inspiring lady. I've been following her blog for the past couple of months, and much like the beautiful Superforest, can always be trusted to inspire beauty, joy, and lightness in the world. Her recent video Train of Thought made me smile this morning. 

Another bit of lovely inspiration is Amy K.R's "7 Things" (listed at the top of this post), shared at an independent TED Talk, TEDxWaterloo.

Sixteen Years

Dear Diary. Last Friday marks sixteen years since I first started keeping a diary. I had no idea when I first started writing that I would keep writing. I just wanted to be more like Elizabeth Wakefield, the nerdier goodly twin of Sweet Valley High. Back then, I wanted to be the first female prime minister of Australia. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be an Olympian. I wanted to live in a world where people spent their days learning about history, and playing musical instruments, and being nice to each other. I was terrified I would never have a boyfriend. I desperately wanted my own room. 

Dear Me Sixteen Years Ago. You don’t become first female Prime Minister of Australia, but you do get to be the PM in the role play in Parliament House at year 6 camp. You do go to the Olympics, but not as an athlete, you perform in the Opening Ceremony and sing in the recording choir. The Olympics is everything you have ever dreamed it will be and more. You go to State Music Camp and are surrounded by people who play musical instruments. You go to university and meet wonderful, amazing, inspiring, talented people. You spend all day learning about history. You go to summer camp and become surrounded by people who live creatively and are nice to each other. You travel the world. You do get a boyfriend (several in fact). The boy(s) will break your heart but you will be okay. You have amazing, beautiful friends. You learn to live healthily. You get your own room. I promise. And you are exactly where you need to be to do all the things you want to do. 

Dear Me Sixteen Years From Now. I have no idea who you have become or what you are doing. Are you living in New York or London? Do you have an organic theatre farm? Are you a writer? An actress? A critic? Are you married? Are you single? Are you meditating? Are you running? Are you dancing? Are you eating beautiful food? Are you happy? I hope so. Because Me-Today can look at Me-Sixteen-Years-Ago and say, lots of stuff has happened since the first journal entry - good, bad, wonderful, exciting, terrifying, depressing, heart-breaking, thrilling, soul-enriching things that happen over the course of life and years - and despite all of this, I am here. And I trust that this is exactly where I need to be. 

Here’s to the next sixteen. 

With love,

Me. 

I Am

http://vimeo.com/11527784

I wrote the following in early April, and today stumbled across this amazingly appropriate Superforest blog...

I am... active beautiful charismatic determined evolving fortunate gorgeous hopeful iridescent journalling kind loving master novice open paganistic questing real sane tenacious understanding vivacious wicked young zesty...