OH BABY, BABY IT'S A WILD WORLD.

Photo: Young Hearts | Author: Pauline Skewes | Publication: Young Hearts

I remember this one teacher I had at my high school. (Let’s hypothetically call her Mrs. Stephenson for privacy reasons). Mrs. Stephenson was tall with short dark frizzy hair. She wore a constant frown on her bitter face. She was never pleasant to be around and I was confident at the time that I was to learn absolutely nothing from this woman. She would often make threats at my classmates and I about ‘the real world’. Referring to our high school lives as the ‘easy days’ and would warn us all of the big bad universe that was waiting for us after we stepped out of our high school gates for good. I remember being scared and naïve about the future, angry how Mrs. Stephenson refused to provide some upbeat words of wisdom instead. But little did I know, that it would be Mrs. Stephenson I would learn from the most.

Next chapter.

I finally found myself initially suffering from the normal angst of entering ‘the real world’. Wandering along the winding road of independence and adulthood, smack bang in the middle of new words like – jobs, rent and relationships. All the while, trying to still figure out amongst it all, what my dreams were actually made of. Suddenly, there were many decisions to be made, paths to choose, things to loose, hearts to be broken and lessons to learn. And as my shoulders grew heavier and heavier, I was beginning to think that Mrs. Stephenson was right after all. Everything was a little bit scary out here.

It’s funny, when I was a little girl, all I ever dreamed about was a pool in my backyard to cool off during summer, to be allowed to play with my friends on the streets till it became dark and getting a shiny sticker on my homework to assure me that I was doing the right thing. Then I grew a little older and all I dreamed about then was having fun on the weekends, talking on the phone all night and finding self worth on the reflection of the million and one friends I had. But after walking out of those high school gates, ‘the real world’ ultimately changed my dreams once again.   

My heart grew bigger and my skin became thicker.  I started to dream about finding a house with a white picket fence and making it a home, I wanted to soar off, high into the blue skies and land in different parts of the world to explore and find different places and different people, but most of all, I wanted to fall madly in-love. I quickly realised that those scary words I learned – jobs, rent and relationships were not that scary after all. That it is these exact things that goes hand-in-hand to living out my dreams. I wished Mrs. Stephenson said this to me instead – ‘If you work hard and love hard, the world is yours. So go and get it!’     

I recently blew out 25 candles on my birthday cake and as I grew a little older and a little wiser, I have learned that the tools I need to survive ‘the real world’ are the many things I was taught from the very beginning. As a little girl my parents would tell me to look after my things, to share, to treat others as I would like to be treated, not to be mean, to forgive and to say sorry to someone when I have hurt them.

And how the same rules apply from when I was first learning to ride my bike back then to chasing my dreams now. How one day I can be pedaling fast along a familiar street of my hometown, no hands, no worries. Then the next minute, a bump on the road causes me to fall off my bike, flat on my face, the gravel scraping my knees and bruising my pride. It is during these crashes I quickly learn that some people will rush to my aide, while others are more than happy to watch me fall. But just like in the real world, the key to chasing your dreams is to get up, wipe the dirt of your knees, bare the pain, hop back on your bike with a smile on my face and continue pedaling.

I thought about Mrs. Stephenson and all the bitter things she would say to me back then. I wondered about how many times she had fallen off her bike. Or perhaps she was one of those that fell off and never got back up? I want to tell her that this real world she warned me about was not that bad after all. That it’s actually full of wondrous things, magical places and people offering everlasting friendships and love. That nothing beats falling in-love with others, let alone learning to fall in-love with yourself. Creating and living out dreams and being excited for the days to come, no matter how scary it may all seem. After all, they say – if your dreams don’t scare you, then they are not big enough. And the truth is, I would rather be scared than dreamless any day! 

HELLO HEARTBREAK

Photo: Young Hearts | Author: Pauline Skewes | Publication: Young Hearts

Not including a handful of boys I dated for a day or two in primary school. I can easily count the heartbreaks I have endured from the opposite sex on one hand. To be more precise - two.  For two very different reasons caused by two very different idiots.

Before I go on, it is important for me to point out that this is not only about heartbreaks alone. It’s actually quite the opposite. It is about winning. Keep that thought. Ok, so now back to heartbreaks; a good friend told me once that during a bad breakup, there is always a winner. Generally this is the one who did the breaking up, the one who has a new lover first and the one who is not making psycho phone calls to their ex days later. Mind you I was told about this urban myth whilst bearing a fresh heart wound and in fact was far from being on the winning side.  I had just broken up with my first long term boyfriend and may or may have not been committing all sorts of breakup no no’s. 

The ones that include repeatedly calling him between 2 and 52 times per day and when that doesn’t work, putting your phone on private number and calling him again – just incase he doesn’t realise that it’s still you. How clever right? Then you become a mastermind and think – well if he doesn’t want to pick up my phone calls, he has no option but to read my text messages. Brilliant idea! So you experiment a forward, slightly begging but cool calm collected text message that you get your best friend to proof read and send it with such confidence. Then when you either A) don’t get a reply or B) get a response you didn’t like. You suddenly suffer from Tourette’s syndrome and change your tune with your next text message. And so forth, and so forth. Not until you find yourself driving past his house for no good reason than just to see if he/she is home, you hit a wall and ask yourself, ‘Wait – what the fuck am I doing?’ And it is then you realise I am most certainly not winning here.

First I must disclose about my relationship history. We have ex-boyfriend #1. 3-4 years together. At first, I thought he was shy and kind and he first found me fun and endearing. We spent our teenage days together, before life hit us and BAM! We started to evolve into two polar opposite beings that in the end couldn’t stand each other. I started to be repulsed by the lack of colour he was wearing and the piercings he wanted to get. He started to find me annoying and naïve. We went on to spend countless months causing all sorts of drama and one night like fireworks we exploded (not the good type). With fingers pointed left right and center, we were both aching to break free so much only to realise that the simple answer was that we were too young and we just didn’t know any better.

This brings us to ex-boyfriend #2. Roughly 8 months together. He chased, and eventually I was caught. At first I found him witty and intriguing and at first he said he thought I was pretty and that I dressed well. We spent a summer under the sun together laughing and playing around until the baggage and scars we both carried ultimately lead us to war with one another. In the end he said I was confusing and too social and I thought he was over-protective and drank too much. It brought around old feelings of how fast something good can turn into something poisonous for both parties. So many games are played that you can’t help but think, can there really be a winner here?

It isn’t until the storm is over and you are able to see the colour in the light of day again that it all becomes clear how to actually win this thing. That the person you were trying to compete with this whole time wasn’t your ex-partner after all, but rather yourself and that it doesn’t really matter who does what after a failed relationship. You win by focusing on being able to stand on your own two feet again, by being able to say you went to war and you survived gracefully.

It’s been a while. But even now I feel contemplative thinking about those battle wounds I bared. But without these faults I wouldn’t have the lessons learned that equip me to be a noble girlfriend to the perfect boy. A boy who’s hands I have held for almost 5 years now. I find him to be a handsome and intelligent gentleman and he says I am adorable and sweet (his words not mine). We act like children around one another and spend our days daydreaming about our bright future together.  So much so that when I stop and look at him, I can’t help but think to myself that in the end...

I won.   

MAKE BELIEVE

Growing up I was lucky enough to be one of those kids that had a handful of friends who lived on the same street as me. After school, we would climb mulberry trees, play handball on the gravelled roads and gather our clever brains together to mastermind how to build the perfect cubby house for summer. We would talk about who would do what and what talents each of us had that we could contribute to our grand plans. While I may have been no good at carrying heavy things, I helped with the interior of building our little nook and made it look pleasantly pretty. 

It's kind of like that now really, I have been creating What Peter Said for over two years now and so much has happened just in that short time. From a small tiny seed I planted, I have nurtured it to grow and grow with the help of some very helpful and clever humans along the way. Beautiful people who were more than willing to create and dream along side me. I think you always have to believe in a little make believe in your life, otherwise the unthinkable will never be possible. 

So thank you once again to those who has helped me with my much loved cubby house What Peter Said. Keep dreaming and being creative. 

DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND

In the past I have often had suspicions that I may have been allergic to change. Just the other day I found myself on my lonesome, slung against the chilled window of the 3:15pm train to the city, my sleepy eyes were blurred from the timid sun beaming in. With nothing but my busy mind to occupy me; I began to be overwhelmed by the amount of pending amendments that life is tossing my way. And as doubts began to kick in, I found myself asking questions I’m sure many others have asked themselves before; ‘What am I doing all this for?’ and ‘Will I fail?’ Goosebumps appeared on my anxious skin, as I gripped my hands tightly and decided to quit neglecting change and instead welcome it with two confident and open arms before these beautiful opportunities pass me by and ultimately grow to be ‘what if’s’ that will only float meaninglessly in my head. To help calm my uncertainties I revisited a memory of when I had conquered the evil and scary world of uncertainty and self doubt. It made me realise that change was in fact an old friend of mine. 

My friend change and I share a fond memory together. Having made the decision that travelling would help cure my broken heart after losing my father. I packed my bags and dove into the unknown; far far away from my loved ones who had nurtured and comforted me throughout my loss. Friendless and unsure, I soon found myself aching for home. My first few mornings were spent waking up amongst a frosty bed constantly making phone calls unfolding stories of my loneliness. Until one dear morning I woke up to the view of white pristine speckles falling out my window. It was the first time I had seen snowfall. And just like that, it also became the very first time in days I was able to stare at change straight in the eye and smile. As my passport became occupied by vibrant colours, new friends grew in numbers; friends who were other travelers whom I drank wine with and shared stories of what home also meant to them. Since then, it has been impossible for me to shake off my new found wanderlust. Thanks to change.

I remember the days where the future seemed like it was something that was millions of miles away from me, something that I needed not to worry about for some time to come. But change takes place and life sinks in and before you know it you are strained to find a fine line somewhere in between what it is you love to do and what it is that you have to do to earn your bread and butter.  Some time ago I gained the courage to write down on a piece of paper what it is I wanted to be and how I was going to get there. I aimed selfishly to be one of those rare few beings that get to do what they love to do for a living.  I figured some get there by luck, but I didn’t want to wait around to see if I was going to be one them. And so I dove into the sea of change. Head first. Since then change has provided me many sleepless nights where I craved for play rather than work and longed for luck rather than toil. But if I have learned anything, it is that change can be for the better. That visiting the dark hole of rejections and failures only makes achievements taste better. It can bring you that one step closer to some dreams you once labeled as unachievable. That if you dared to look at your future with a set of confident and optimistic eyes, life can sparkle.

TRUE LOVE

This weekend I plan to fall in-love with so many things. Like waking up early of a Saturday morning and going to second-hand stores down my street. Or staying in bed all day of a Sunday reading piles and piles of magazines. Or convincing myself that the ocean will be warm enough to swim in once again. 

However you spend your weekend ahead, make sure you fall in-love. 

MY FRIEND DANIEL

In a few days, a very dear friend of mine Daniel is coming to visit. Daniel is one of those beautiful humans that love others hard and make you feel special just by being around him. Although he is flying from the country we both call home Australia, the ironic thing is London is where the both of us met. 

Almost 5 years ago now, I travelled for the first time on my own to London/Europe baring a broken heart. A few months after my father's passing I decided to put my heart back together by running away if only for a little while. Little did I know that I would discover something much more than foreign food and beautiful cobbled streets. I met Daniel and it wasn't long after we met that I realised he  too wasn't just travelling for the sake of travelling,  but he was running away too. 

Last Christmas he gave me a book for a present which I didn't start to read until I had moved to London already. When I opened the book a letter he had wrote dropped out of the crisp pages. To my delight I read the words that he had written with so much joy and love in my heart. 

I have stolen some of his words to share with you;

Dearest Pauline,

A little over two years ago the chaos of my graduation had a hold of my life. Even with the excitement of my big trip looming I could not have ever foreseen what would have happened. I left Sydney, Toronto bound to begin a new chapter of my life, to experience new things and meet new people. As I left the Canada via NYC and Chicago I was excited to get to London, to embark on the last leg of my trip. 

Now with the first breath of my London air and a new bounce in my travelling feet, I went to my room and slept, little did I know that tomorrow I would meet someone I would treasure not only for the bus cigarette breaks, but much more.

I think it started when you introduced yourself to our bus full of new people. The sentence that resonates in my mind is, "Hello my name is Pauline, my sisters name is Jasmine, like the Disney Princess, I got the shit name". There was something there that made me think we were going to get along on that trip. 

As I got to know you over the weeks on that trip and years now after we have returned, I would consider you a dear friend and I am so sad for you to be leaving this continent on your adventure with Kieran. That said I am incredibly excited for you both.

This is just one of the many things you say and do that make you such an inspiring person. I think proof of this is not only in your actions but in the friends you keep close and most of all Kieran. I remember sitting in that gloomy room in Austria, looking out the window as the snow fell and you talking about Kieran, the relationship you both had sounded amazing. When we returned and I not only gained a friend, a dear friend in you but in Kieran also. 

I could go on for pages about how happy I am I met you, but I am more excited about the new memories we have waiting for us around the corner and the milestones we will both accomplish and tell each other about.

Which brings me to my final point, I am so excited for you and Kieran. I am so excited to meet you both in London and enjoy another five pound breakfast in the snow. So from that girl I met in London on a cold winters morning, to the beautiful friend you have become, I'm going to miss you like crazy, both of you! I cannot wait to visit you in your little London home.

Daniel x

FALLING IN-LOVE WITH FALL

This point of the year is very familiar to me, the trees are beginning to shed its leaves as they fall on the ground and prepare to be carried around by the wind. This morning when I got up was the first morning in a long time that I was able to hug my blanket and curl my feet due to the air becoming crisp which makes it quite clear that summer has come and gone. 

I lay contently in bed thinking how funny it is how the same pattern and habits unfolds every single year. How we crave a new season during the wind up of an old one. I remember at the end of last winter and how I felt. I missed the sun and I missed sitting outside enjoying the warmth with good friends. Where even of nighttime you didn’t need a jacket and there is never a rush to be in the comfort of closed doors.

However now days as summer begins to pack up and leave me, I sit here craving winter as I predict the comforts that it has to bring me as it has done so in the past. I am looking forward to wearing socks around the house, drinking warm tea before bed and using the coldness as a perfect excuse and alibi to stay home and watch countless of movies one after the other without feeling guilty. I guess I will never break this pattern of mine and I don’t think I want to really. It’s nice to always have something to look forward to. And at this point of time – I am looking forward to winter.

ROMANTIC FOOL

A dear friend told me once that she was comforting a friend baring a fresh broken heart who didn’t believe in true love. A friend who was adamant it didn't exist. 

She went on to tell me that she used Kieran and I as an example to prove that it does. This made my heart smile. Some may call me a romantic fool, but I guess they don’t get to feel the way that I do.

DREAMIN' ABOUT L.A

It's only three weeks away now until my love affair with L.A can begin. I think we are going to fall madly in-love with each-other. 

Vintage shopping, lazing about on Venice Beach, going out on dates with Kieran around down-town L.A and playing with the night. 

OUR TEEPEE

Our room is bare. In fact the whole house empty. So tonight I built a teepee in our room with Kieran. We get to sleep in it during our last few nights in our beautiful house. 

I think tonight we will talk about living out our dreams and how eager we are to see the world.

SHOW ME YOUR BONES

My mother is a tiny woman. One would not call me tall, but when I am around her. I feel this way. Her hair is dark and long like mine. She tells me often how proud she is of me and how glad she is that my life holds many things she wishes she had in her youth. Every now and then I look at her and remember how she would never be late to pick me up from netball training or how she would never say no to a friend coming over to play. She has a trail of love and sorrows. I have watched her be the loving human towards my sister and I during her strongest moments and also make mistakes during her weakest. Like all humans. I understand how my father could have loved her so.

My darling young sister is as tall as a tree. When I am around her, I feel short. Even though she says every day that I am the one she looks up to. Her eyes sparkles of a friendly demeanour. One that hides her naivety. When I look at her I remember early mornings and swimming lessons with our father, bickering moments about the front seat of car trips and belly laughs about accidently breaking our strange neighbors window with our tennis ball. She has a rawness of a beautiful young girl pondering about what steps to take next. Tossing and turning about all sorts of decisions. Like all humans. Little does she know how bright her future could be.

I found this photograph of the both of them as I was packing my belongings into boxes. It made me feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. It reminded that even after saying goodbye to my father. There is still so much love here to make my world go round. 

YOUNG HEARTS MAG | ISSUE NO.1

Photo: Billycock Denim 

I am so delighted to say that the first issue of Young Hearts mag is now available for all of you to gaze upon. Make a cup of tea, hop into bed and sit down and take your time with flicking through Flower Child. 

Or print the bad boy out and have it in the palm of your hands to read! Either way I do hope you become smitten with whats inside. To put it quite simply, Flower Child is filled with young guns that are living/chasing the dream, stories on heartbreaks, photo-shoots with fashion forward up and coming labels and photographers, plus other bits and pieces of all sorts of charming things. 

FLOWER CHILD | ISSUE NO.1

TARANTINO RETROSPECTIVE

Author: Pauline Skewes | Publication: T-SQUAT

You know that question people ask: "Who would you invite for dinner, dead or alive?"  Well, it’s as simple as this – on the top of my list would be none other than Mr. Quentin Tarantino. Hands down. Let me start from the beginning.

Quentin Tarantino was born in Knoxville, Tennessee and raised in Los Angeles. He was a high school dropout at the age of sixteen to take acting classes at the James Best Theatre Company. As a teenager, Tarantino first earned his bread and butter at the video store he lived in on Manhattan Beach, California called Video Archives. Here he spent the majority of his youth watching, studying and becoming smitten with obtuse films. Luckily for us, this is how the romance between Tarantino and films began.

Tarantino’s first few big bucks came from selling scripts such as Natural Born Killers and True Romance during his early twenties (as you do); the first commercially successful film he wrote and directed was Reservoir Dogs (1992), which he was originally going to shoot with some friends on the budget of thirty-thousand dollars. However, thanks to Harvey Keitel- who plays Mr. White in the movie- Tarantino was handed one-and-a-half million dollars to play with instead. This became the turning point in this now-prominent director’s career. It was as if he flicked his blinker and merged into the fast lane, leaving everybody else behind. Reservoir Dogs later grossed at six-and-a-half million. Not bad at all. It later provided him with the two tools he needed most to make his next and best film; cash meant a higher budget and confidence meant balls.

If Tarantino treated his films as his children, Pulp Fiction (1994) should be the favourite. It holds the plot of four tales of violence and redemption colliding within the Los Angeles underworld. You’re able to get your money’s worth purely from watching the Bible-quoting character that is Jules, played by Samuel L. Jackson, and it scored Tarantino his first Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. Need I say more?

Now for Jackie Brown (1997)– a movie about a flight attendant who gets caught smuggling her boss’s gun money. The film provided both lead actress Pam Grier, in the title role, and Robert Forster a much needed comeback movie. Much like John Travolta, who was suffering from acting obscurity throughout his career prior to Tarantino waving his directing wand his way with Pulp Fiction. It’s safe to say the man can certainly create memorable characters and cast them to perfection providing them with memorable quotations such as: “They call it a Royale with Cheese…“

When someone asks me the difficult question of which Tarantino movie is my favourite, I become restless, simply because it’s a hard task. Ultimately, the Kill Bill movies win me over every time. Perhaps this is because both movies are based around Beatrix Kiddo (code name: Black Mamba, played by Uma Thurman), a formidable female assassin who is a ruthless warrior out to seek revenge on the Deadly Viper Association Squad, a team of deadly killers under the ruling of her ex boss/lover Bill (kung-fu legend David Carradine.) Both volumes consist of a hand-written hit list, Japanese samurai swords and a truck called “The Pussy Wagon.” Lock it in, Eddie.

Naturally when you are Mr. Tarantino, you hold acquaintances like other prominent directors- Robert Rodriguez, for example. The two joined forces in 2007 to give tribute to Grindhouse movies, a ’70s trend where inner-city movie theaters would screen extreme, low-budget independent films containing an abundant amount of violence and nudity as a means to compromise and contest with under-the-thumb big-budget studio films.

Here, Tarantino provided us with Deathproof, a film about two separate sets of voluptuous women who are stalked by a stuntman called Mike (Kurt Russel), who uses his ‘death-proof’ car to lure and slay women. It is a dialogue-driven film giving a deliberate nod to the cult and horror films of yesteryear.

Nowadays, it is too often that you walk out of a movie theater wondering if you should have saved your pennies and stayed at home instead. It is very rare that you are able to sit through a whole film with adrenaline pumping from your chest and an entertained grin or your face. However, the last time I was able to experience this was with Tarantino’s latest production Inglorious Basterds which he spent over a decade writing.

The plot is based around a group of hardened Nazi-killers who stalk their prey in occupied France as a Jewish cinema owner plots to take down top-ranking SS officers during the official premiere of a high-profile German propaganda film. How Tarantino managed to create a World War II film containing unpredictable humour with the music of David Bowie and make it a sensation is beyond me.  All I know is that if a sixteen-year-old boy that worked at a video store turned around and said to me, “You know, I’m going to write some of the best scripts and direct some notoriously renowned kick-ass movies one day!”,  I would most likely tell that kid to beat it and keep dreamin’.