An ode to an icon...

As the car steers around the corner and pulls up infront of Tiffany's in New York City a stunning woman steps out and begins to glide across the path. With a coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other, she stands infront of the iconic store. Taking a pastry from the bag she takes one single bite and with it creates cinematic history.

There is a lot I could say now, I could tell you of her past, her early upbringing that played out in the midst of of war and devistation in her home country. I could tell you of her style, the couture dresses and the glistening jewellery, the undisputable fashion force that she was for her entire life, and continues to be today. I could tell you of her career, her humble beginings in ballet schoolthat led to her portrayal of Gigi and went on to see her star in 18 films, nomintaed for 4 Academy Awards and win Best Actress for "ROman Holiday". I could tell you of her legacy, the family she raised, the charity work she did for UNICEF in her later years, and The Audrey Hepburn Children's Fund, which still continues today. However that is merely statistics and opinions, what I want to tell you is who she was, when the lights went out and the makeup was off. Who was Audrey Hepburn when nobody was looking?

In his book "Audrey Hepburn: An Elegant Spirit" Audrey's son describes her as a compassionate woman who searched for and offered love above all else. Audreys own words back this up, with her quoted as saying "I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it." She lived her life not only to entertain, but also to engage, to engage with her audience, engage with her family, engage with people.

So I wonder, how did it feel to be "Audrey Hepburn", a person who became an actress, an actress who became a star, a star who became an icon? The shocking answer is this, "You can even say that I hated myself at certain periods. I was to fat, or maybe to tall, or maybe just plian to ugly..." Its hard to believe, but nice to know that the face of a thousand add campaignes, the mother of style and "Most Beautiful Woman Of All Time" was insecure just like you and I. So, while every woman wanted to be her, and every man wanted to marry her, she was happy to be at home with her sons, blissfully unfazed by the frenzy she caused and, just like her character standing in front of Tiffany's, Audrey Hepburn could be surrounded by the most precious of jewels, but everyone is still looking at her.

(this is a piece I wrote for uni, I got a high distinction so I thought it might be worth sharing it on here)

Sometimes I'd even watch PG movies, WITHOUT parental guidance. I know right..

I tend to get lost in trivial things. Banking on things I know are only temporary. Focusing on the minors whilst I let the majors pass by. I'm like a child, mesmerised by pretty colours, flashing lights and loud sounds. It is only in the silence, at the wee hours of the night that I can no longer escape the truth. The truth that I am broken. Dreams of my youth stand in the background being blurred out by the clangs of my everyday existence. I wish I were stronger, more noble. I wish hard decisions came easy to me, like they do for some.
Doing good is almost a second thought for me, I crave adventure, rebellion, excitement and doing good so rarely seems adventurous, rebellious or exciting. It's like when I was little and wouldn't want to go to bed in fear that I was missing out on something. It always seemed that the hours between 8.30pm and 7.30am must be when all the good stuff happens. The adults bring out the chocolate and the PG movies and everything else good about being old.
I think doing good sometimes feels like going to bed on time, there is a part of me that is convinced I'm missing out. It must be fun right, otherwise why would they have to tell us not to do it? But the funny thing is that on the few times I did stay up late, you know those occasions when one parent isn't home so the other one caves to the pressure, I would sit up watching TV, something really bad ass like "Family of Five" or something and slowly my eyes would close and I would fall asleep on the couch. The chocolate never seemed to come out any more than it did pre 8.30, fireworks didn't go off, party's didn't happen. It was all together a let down and I'd just wake up a little bit more tired for school.

I'll let the metaphore go unsaid because really it's all a bit to obvious isn't it.

Smile often
Beth

Dear Diary..

I've kept a journal since I was 12, and I still have every one. They sit in draws in my room, sometimes I open them and have a read. Most of the time I don't. I love that they are there though, A record that I was here, that I existed, that those years happened. I like that I can look back to my perspective at 12, 13 ,15, 18 and see how I saw things back then. It's a guilty pleasure and a selfish past time but Journaling, writing, sketching, expressing, It's something I'll always do. And If I can make a living from it than I'll be a very happy girl.

I say all that to say this, Today I was cleaning out my journals and I opened one, It was the year of 2003. Th year I almost died on more than one occasion, the year I lost my grandmother to cancer, the year I was told I would need a heart transplant, the year I flew to Sydney with the make a wish foundation to meet the cast of home and away (don't judge me), the year I had open heart surgery 6 days before Christmas. I opened the journal, wanting to delve into the mind of my 14 year old self, truly wondering how I had felt, what I had thought of the whole thing. I expected long rants of confusion, medical questions, end of days prayers, the works... And what I got was.. BOYS!
Seriously the whole journal was about boys, and how I liked this boy, and if I should tell him, and if I was fat and if he would like me and why, God forbid, I was 14 and didn't have a boyfriend. I honestly couldn't believe it, I was going through the roughest physical time of my life (and that's saying a lot considering I'd already had 2 open heart surgery's) and all I could think about was BOYS.

Then it dawned on me, maybe I'm doing that now too. If I read back to my journals of today would I be thinking, oh that was my first year of uni, I moved out of home, started volunteering, beginning my "adult life". But I wouldn't find any of that in the pages of my diary, nothing about uni or work or volunteering, all I would find written was pages of confusion about a boy, about my appearance, about my insecurities. Really, I'm 14 all over again.

Smile often
Beth

When I'm lost for words

This is the first thing I have ever posted that wasn't personally written by me. But the moment anyone who knows me reads who it was written by they will understand...

"The night time does the same thing to me. To many thoughts running through my head, I find myself getting so depressed-so quickly. It's tough to break out of it, really it is. The best way to deal with it - is to just feel it... No matter how much it hurts. Then... apply to life. Remember, you always feel the best the moment after you've cried"

-Craigery Owens

Hope.

I woke up to rain today.
A storm had rolled in overnight, or so it seems.. It's days like these when one needs hope. You see storms come in life, the sun is hidden behind dark clouds and your hair gets all frizzy. The perfect way to make a 21 year old girl feel like shit. I suppose this is like life really. Sometimes you can't see the sun. The clouds make it impossible to see the positives in life. Situations and circumstances roll in like cold fronts in the night and we wake up to rain. Hope is what gets us through the storm. Hope is the knowledge that when I wake up to rain it isn't permanent. Hope is the knowledge that though I don't see the sun, it is still there. Hope is the belief that tomorrow will be brighter than today, even if today wasn't brighter than yesterday.
Without hope we essentially live in the storm forever. We wake up to rain and wallow in the belief that it will last forever. Without hope we cannot see a better future. Hope is a force that is stronger than pain. hope is a force that is stronger than uncertainty. Hope is a force that is stronger than hate. Hope is what got me off the pantry floor when I was told I would need open heart surgery for the 3rd time at 14 and I only had 50% chance of living and hope is the reason I lived beyond those odds to be here today waking up to rain.
Besides, rains not all that bad. We have de-frizz for hair these days anyway...

smile often
Beth