Hello Sun bebe. How's thangs? how's life? how's thangs? You want an update? Imma give you an update. All aboard the self help train! Because that shit is dope.
You know what I find so incredibly odd? When people will brag about pulling ridiculous hours at work on minimal sleep. Would you like a medal for not respecting your body? Or when people will almost brag about how long it's been since they've had a social life because they have been working almost non-stop for the passed month and a half? CONGRATULATIONS! You haven't been able to maintain a proper work/life balance which is extremely unhealthy and detrimental to long term productivity, what the fuck's up?!
What about those who were struggling with their mental illness, but still able to 'get shit done?' and 'just push through it.' Sometimes, I feel like you can still move on with your life whilst embarking on a journey toward healing and wellness. But there is a difference between perseverance just sinking deeper and deeper into your mental unrest under the guise you are overcoming it. These scenarios are found in all scenes and not just the workplace. You see it with study, with partying, people pleasing, parenting, bloody everything mate.
I just don't know why this culture self abuse is so celebrated? It's nurturing a society of people who are unable to show themselves the slightest bit of compassion and kindness. It's funny, because when I began my own healing, one of the first things I had to do what look into a mirror and tell myself, 'I love you' and then evaluate how that made me feel and my personal reaction.
So simple. The first time I did it, all I could think of was how unconvincing I was and how I couldn't feel anything good or bad? I scolded myself for not having a stronger reaction and for being too good of an actress, being able to tell myself, 'I love you' too convincingly without actually feeling it. I was mad at my lack of reaction as well, that I might have been disconnecting, but I couldn't be sure and that indecisiveness made me mad as well as the fact that I didn't feel like I could trust myself. Why the hell can't I trust myself? What kind of person am I? Am I even I person? What am I doing here? I should die.
Such a tiny little activity was able to tell me so much. It didn't dawn on me until much later that my reaction to the mirror exercise was criticism! Literally all of those thoughts could be deduced to me being overly critical of myself! I felt elated as I continued on my little healing quest, I was able to discover that the thoughts I think now were just adopted from my parents shit and how to move through that etc. Read 'You Can Heal Your Life' by Louise L Hay for a zesty hands on approach to your own healing. For real, I've been able to deal with soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much through reading this + my life is 120000% better. I started losing weight, I started making more money, I improved my living circumstances dramatically, moved through childhood trauma, an eating disorder, anxiety, depression, ADHD and removed SO MANY of my creative blocks and SO MANY more things that are personal AF, but lets be real, I'll probs dish on all that on youtube or this blog sometime soon. Shit's like $10 on Amazon.
Another thing, I was reading 'The Power Of Now' by Eckhart Tolle. Haven't finished it yet, but when I was reading about staying present and the activity involves you basically listening to the voice in your head, your own mental chatter.
The second I did this, the craziest shit ever happened... The voice just stopped.
Then I became pissy. Well if the voice has stopped now, what the fuck am I supposed to be listening to? This went on for a couple of days until I read the next chapter which said the voice is meant to stop and you're meant to find inner peace...Oh shit whaddup.
There was never a need to be so abrasive. I'm finding that day by day I do not need to be harsh with myself. There is no need for such excessive seriousness. Which is weird for me to say because everything is kind of a joke to me, but there's also the pendulum swing or the coin flip where I had been so severe and chastising with myself and my actions.
I used to be a lil bit scared of this whole gentle self love biz. What if I fall into complacency? How will I get anything done?
Then I remembered teachers I had from high school and the ones who were the most loving, kind and gentle really got the best out of everyone, same with bosses, managers, parents, the whole bundle.
Basically, what I'm trying to say is there is no need to hate yourself. Absolutely no need for self criticism and for self punishment. Because at the end of the day whatever happens, happens regardless of how you think or feel about yourself so you may as well make it worth your while? The baby amount of approval you get from your peers is not worth the long term self hatred, suffering and punishment you're giving yourself. It's not helping you and you're fucking your work in the long run.
In the sake of keeping things authentic, do you know how much self loathing i experienced while writing this? I feel like it's not funny, unhelpful and shit. But I just need to do my thing and trust it's what needs to be written right now because I'm rad and if I was any kind of food, I would be gravy because I'm the literal fucking best and so are you.
I feel like I've only really skimmed the surface of my own experiences and all of my thoughts on this. But yolo.
I've also started a vlog channel if you wanted to sus that out and see how my New Years went because you care about me and my schenanigans. That's right, spellin' it with a 'sch' now. Git used to eht.
Also some of my socials!
Youtube! Saatana
Facebook! Saatana Lee Rose
Twitter! @therealsaatana
Instagram! @saatanaleerose
Snapchat! bigtittys666
-Saatana Lee Rose xoxooxx Keep it real, schnit tits.
Wednesday, 28 September 2016
Wednesday, 21 September 2016
Enlightened AF.
I'll start from the start and the truth is that I was exhausted. Working as crew, lugging around heavy equipment and waiting around in the sweltering Northern Territory sun for the passed few of days for my fellow students had taken it's toll on me mentally and physically. Given that I had also been up for the majority of the previous night writing, I awoke the next morning burnt and moderately disgruntled. But I staggered my way through the hot, heavy weather to meet with my crew.
Today I was a director and the filming of my assessment piece was upon us and although I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about the fact that I had been given about a quarter of the time to shoot my assessment piece (like, what the fuck?) I was excited and rose to the occasion.
As I began to check the equipment, it was hard to ignore the fact that one of my actors/crew members had failed to show. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes and twenty minutes turned into half an hour. My patience had dissolved and our schedule was tighter than a nun. To say I was pissed off was an understatement. I raced to his dorm room and he agreed to meet me at the lecture room in ten minutes.
He failed to show.
At this point I feel it's important to note that I am really not always this ill tempered. Sometimes my fuse is short and my temperament is wild. Majority of the time, everything feels like a sort of game and life is somewhat fun and overflowing with whimsy.
Actually it's always at either of the two extremes. Rarely in between. But that's for another blog post. Love it or leave it, San Diego (Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm Ron Burgundy.)
Anywho, surprise, surprise, my piece o' shit friend never showed and I retreated to the bathroom to chill the fuck out. I splashed my face a couple of times in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk so miserable and self pitying that I'll need at least 17 sessions in therapy to forget how petty it was. Then, it came to me. A quote that I'd come across multiple times in my life on facebook or whathaveyou but had never utilised out in the wild...Something had clicked.
I think maybe Bruce Lee said it. But who could be sure?
'Notice that the stiffest tree is most easily cracked while the bamboo or willow survives by bending in the wind.'
The odds were against me and I think by this point I had well and truly lowkey lost my patience. I was trying not to openly blame people for what was happening. After all, I am still a firm believer in taking responsibility for everything that happens in life. Simply because when you blame people you're literally giving them power over your life. Ain't nobody got time fo' dat [sorry...(Notsorry)] To calm down and adjust to the circumstance seemed like the best option. I gave thanks for the people that had showed to help me and decided to film a badass royalty free KPOP video instead. My love for KPOP and Korean culture in general is undying.
It got experimental to say the least.
Point is, I remembered a quote. It came in useful. I could choose to blame other people and stay pissy and ditch my project altogether. Instead I decided it would be more useful to calm down and make the most out of the situation.
Lesson learnt... bend with the wind bitches,
If you want to keep up with my glorious and majestic life, here's some links!
Youtube! Saatana
Facebook! Saatana Lee Rose
Twitter! @therealsaatana
Instagram! @saatanaleerose
Snapchat! bigtittys666
Love & Light & Starshine & Petals & Kicking life's ass (but in a good way.) xo
-Saatana Lee Rose, bitch whaaaat?
Today I was a director and the filming of my assessment piece was upon us and although I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about the fact that I had been given about a quarter of the time to shoot my assessment piece (like, what the fuck?) I was excited and rose to the occasion.
As I began to check the equipment, it was hard to ignore the fact that one of my actors/crew members had failed to show. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes and twenty minutes turned into half an hour. My patience had dissolved and our schedule was tighter than a nun. To say I was pissed off was an understatement. I raced to his dorm room and he agreed to meet me at the lecture room in ten minutes.
He failed to show.
At this point I feel it's important to note that I am really not always this ill tempered. Sometimes my fuse is short and my temperament is wild. Majority of the time, everything feels like a sort of game and life is somewhat fun and overflowing with whimsy.
Actually it's always at either of the two extremes. Rarely in between. But that's for another blog post. Love it or leave it, San Diego (Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm Ron Burgundy.)
Anywho, surprise, surprise, my piece o' shit friend never showed and I retreated to the bathroom to chill the fuck out. I splashed my face a couple of times in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk so miserable and self pitying that I'll need at least 17 sessions in therapy to forget how petty it was. Then, it came to me. A quote that I'd come across multiple times in my life on facebook or whathaveyou but had never utilised out in the wild...Something had clicked.
I think maybe Bruce Lee said it. But who could be sure?
'Notice that the stiffest tree is most easily cracked while the bamboo or willow survives by bending in the wind.'
The odds were against me and I think by this point I had well and truly lowkey lost my patience. I was trying not to openly blame people for what was happening. After all, I am still a firm believer in taking responsibility for everything that happens in life. Simply because when you blame people you're literally giving them power over your life. Ain't nobody got time fo' dat [sorry...(Notsorry)] To calm down and adjust to the circumstance seemed like the best option. I gave thanks for the people that had showed to help me and decided to film a badass royalty free KPOP video instead. My love for KPOP and Korean culture in general is undying.
It got experimental to say the least.
Point is, I remembered a quote. It came in useful. I could choose to blame other people and stay pissy and ditch my project altogether. Instead I decided it would be more useful to calm down and make the most out of the situation.
Lesson learnt... bend with the wind bitches,
If you want to keep up with my glorious and majestic life, here's some links!
Youtube! Saatana
Facebook! Saatana Lee Rose
Twitter! @therealsaatana
Instagram! @saatanaleerose
Snapchat! bigtittys666
Love & Light & Starshine & Petals & Kicking life's ass (but in a good way.) xo
-Saatana Lee Rose, bitch whaaaat?
Wednesday, 31 August 2016
Rudimentary Ramblings and David Bowie
What did David Bowie mean to you? That sounds like something your 6th grade teacher would give you to write about over the weekend. Albeit a rad 6th grade teacher, but a shitty, generic statement nonetheless.
So it seems as if friends, friends of friends and relatives old and young had been pushing me to write in a journal. The suggestions were seriously coming at me hard and fast, heh. The very idea of writing in a journal seemed really stupid.
I've since realized that journals are fucking rad and this negative connotation was only because I could never maintain consistency and would become easily frustrated with the very notion of a journal under the idea that unless I could maintain journalistic perfection, it was not worth an ounce of my time. Weird?
Actually this is starting to sound a lot like this blog and also everything else in my life. Brb, just need to put myself into therapy. Jks, I'm already in therapy.
Anywho, a journal can be a place to write all of your deepest darkest fantasies (Becoming a Vampire Wizard on an estate of vicious unicorns); keep track of your goals; log your dreams; hash out issues with your innermost self or write all of those great comebacks that no-one got to hear because it was too late [see: Wit of the staircase (oh, snap! Jack White.)]
I think you get the point. But in case you don't, I'm trying to say that you can write whatever the dickens you want in a journal and generally it stays private (Unless you're 11 years old and your younger brother guessed your password to your password journal... Fuck outta my face, Baillie.) Once I let go of my perfectionist ideals, journal-ling has almost become a therapy. Lawd knows I need a lot of that! jokes, jokes. But only kind of.
Flipping through it's pages I wondered if there was anything I should share with the world wide internet? Much like this blog and my youtube chanel, I do believe this is a 'just because you can, doesn't mean you should' but I'm going to anyway.
The only changes made in this were grammatical.
This was really hard to type without altering my words to sound wittier, funnier, smoother and more interesting. But I'm trying to keep things nice and authentic here. Is this embarrassing? A little.
The day was Monday. I was 2 minutes and 39 seconds through the song 'Within You' by David Bowie. I received a call from Amy. She asks what I'm doing and if I know Bowie? I was holding back the urge to bite back, 'What the fuck do you mean? Had I not played his music on endless repeat throughout the duration of our shared residency? Had you not been present for our endless one-sided discussions of me talking at you, informing you of every way in which I found I could relate to him and found comfort in our personal parallels and synchornicities? What about my bath time Hunky Dory tradition? Or the endless stream of interviews calculating the ways in which we were familiar?'
There was no need to sass a bitch out like that, so I said simply, 'Yes of course, I'm listening to the Labyrinth soundtrack right now and seriously contemplating getting the Jareth haircut for about the fifth time in my life.'
She told me he died...
I immediately dismissed it as a hoax. She replied with, 'Well, it's all over the internet.'
I pull the phone away from my ear and do a quick google search and sure enough, about 2 hours ago.
I manage to squeak out a panicked, 'I'll call you later.'
I hung up and couldn't breathe. Hysterical, I searched my brain for reason, but everything was a cluttered mess. I realize now that it was an unwillingness to accept not only the event that occurred, but also the dramatic effect it was having on me. Before I knew it, hot tears were streaming down my face and there was nothing I could do about it.
The following moments proceeding this phone call are what has baffled and dizzied me to a state of absolute exasperation.
Not only am I completely floored by the event itself, but what struck me is the absurdity of how personal it all feels. I've had friends die. Living, breathing humans that I have had real life interactions with. Exchanged words with and shared a history. Friends whose deaths never really shook me, in fact you could say I was quite unaffected upon hearing of their passing. Call it cold hearted or overly accepting. The truth is I will never know why? But I just didn't give much of a damn.
But this felt overwhelmingly... personal. I tried to fight back the tears, but it felt dishonest. What's the point in living if I can't live honestly? It may seem overdramatic, but this was what my mind was processing.
I had been rearranging my room. It was in a total state of disarray. Books and clothing were stewn across the floor. Posters, postcards and an assortment of decorative jars, bottles and incense lay in chaos across my bedsheets. I sat on a small corner of my bed and gazed out of the window. For the first time in a long time, my surroundings perfectly represented my inner emotional workings.
I recall reading assortments of poems, songs about the suns cruelty when it had the audacity to shine despite a persons grim, caustic mentality. But no, the grey sky, thick clouds, heavy rain and chaotic bedroom were entirely appropriate. For this, I am grateful.
Dumbfoundedness was replaced by overwhelming grief but before I could become fully consumed I began to rationalise and remind myself that I have things to do and can't afford to be weighed down by the heaving emotional burdens that come with being in a state of mourning. For the next few moments, I waver between being absolutely distraught and accepting. Exhausted and motivated, horrified and content.
I am reminded that this life is not the be all and end all and try to think of death as a sweeter release. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Almost instantaneously as if by magic, the clouds parted and the grey was replaced with magnificent gloomy purple yellow haze. I felt content and alive. Once again reminded of my own mortality and the ticking clocks of the people around me. I am grateful and almost honoured to have been alive at the same time as such a brilliant, true visionary and that I was left with a gift that felt so utterly personal to me and only me. Despite his worldwide adorations.
Almost with a sense of urgency I check Gerard Ways twitter with the knowledge of how touched he would be by these circumstances. Who I could trust to express what I was experiencing. To provide to rhyme to reason, if you will.
'I love you forever David Bowie' ...Perfect.
Not having the energy to cook dinner I head to my car. I am overwhelmed by a sense of excitement. Although his journey on this plane has come to an end my creative pursuits have just begun. This side of the sky is glorious. Smokey purple, yellow and I see a bright rainbow, a good omen.
Although I'm still momentarily teary and my face is showing a moment where I am inconsolable, not only due to devastation, but because I can't talk to anyone about it. How can I explain mourning someone I never even knew? Especially without sounding immature and a little fangirlee.
I feel like it hit me on a deep and totally authentic level that only really applies to me and me only. As if he wrote the words and sang the songs and evolved throughout the ages for me personally. Even though the majority of this occurred before my birth. The sky consoled me with its rainbow and light, sheer magic.
I still remember driving in the car as a child listening to Starman on the radio. I was captivated and payed special attention to the whimsy in the lyrics. Songwriting changed.
Thanks for reading, kiddos! Means a lot. I don't know why I shared my word-for-word journal entry. My brain just said I gotta.
-Saatana Lee Rose (yo Daddy's role model, tell him I said he can keep my hairpins, I have no use for them anymore...) xoxoxoxooxox Love me.
So it seems as if friends, friends of friends and relatives old and young had been pushing me to write in a journal. The suggestions were seriously coming at me hard and fast, heh. The very idea of writing in a journal seemed really stupid.
I've since realized that journals are fucking rad and this negative connotation was only because I could never maintain consistency and would become easily frustrated with the very notion of a journal under the idea that unless I could maintain journalistic perfection, it was not worth an ounce of my time. Weird?
Actually this is starting to sound a lot like this blog and also everything else in my life. Brb, just need to put myself into therapy. Jks, I'm already in therapy.
Anywho, a journal can be a place to write all of your deepest darkest fantasies (Becoming a Vampire Wizard on an estate of vicious unicorns); keep track of your goals; log your dreams; hash out issues with your innermost self or write all of those great comebacks that no-one got to hear because it was too late [see: Wit of the staircase (oh, snap! Jack White.)]
I think you get the point. But in case you don't, I'm trying to say that you can write whatever the dickens you want in a journal and generally it stays private (Unless you're 11 years old and your younger brother guessed your password to your password journal... Fuck outta my face, Baillie.) Once I let go of my perfectionist ideals, journal-ling has almost become a therapy. Lawd knows I need a lot of that! jokes, jokes. But only kind of.
Flipping through it's pages I wondered if there was anything I should share with the world wide internet? Much like this blog and my youtube chanel, I do believe this is a 'just because you can, doesn't mean you should' but I'm going to anyway.
The only changes made in this were grammatical.
This was really hard to type without altering my words to sound wittier, funnier, smoother and more interesting. But I'm trying to keep things nice and authentic here. Is this embarrassing? A little.
The day was Monday. I was 2 minutes and 39 seconds through the song 'Within You' by David Bowie. I received a call from Amy. She asks what I'm doing and if I know Bowie? I was holding back the urge to bite back, 'What the fuck do you mean? Had I not played his music on endless repeat throughout the duration of our shared residency? Had you not been present for our endless one-sided discussions of me talking at you, informing you of every way in which I found I could relate to him and found comfort in our personal parallels and synchornicities? What about my bath time Hunky Dory tradition? Or the endless stream of interviews calculating the ways in which we were familiar?'
There was no need to sass a bitch out like that, so I said simply, 'Yes of course, I'm listening to the Labyrinth soundtrack right now and seriously contemplating getting the Jareth haircut for about the fifth time in my life.'
She told me he died...
I immediately dismissed it as a hoax. She replied with, 'Well, it's all over the internet.'
I pull the phone away from my ear and do a quick google search and sure enough, about 2 hours ago.
I manage to squeak out a panicked, 'I'll call you later.'
I hung up and couldn't breathe. Hysterical, I searched my brain for reason, but everything was a cluttered mess. I realize now that it was an unwillingness to accept not only the event that occurred, but also the dramatic effect it was having on me. Before I knew it, hot tears were streaming down my face and there was nothing I could do about it.
The following moments proceeding this phone call are what has baffled and dizzied me to a state of absolute exasperation.
Not only am I completely floored by the event itself, but what struck me is the absurdity of how personal it all feels. I've had friends die. Living, breathing humans that I have had real life interactions with. Exchanged words with and shared a history. Friends whose deaths never really shook me, in fact you could say I was quite unaffected upon hearing of their passing. Call it cold hearted or overly accepting. The truth is I will never know why? But I just didn't give much of a damn.
But this felt overwhelmingly... personal. I tried to fight back the tears, but it felt dishonest. What's the point in living if I can't live honestly? It may seem overdramatic, but this was what my mind was processing.
I had been rearranging my room. It was in a total state of disarray. Books and clothing were stewn across the floor. Posters, postcards and an assortment of decorative jars, bottles and incense lay in chaos across my bedsheets. I sat on a small corner of my bed and gazed out of the window. For the first time in a long time, my surroundings perfectly represented my inner emotional workings.
I recall reading assortments of poems, songs about the suns cruelty when it had the audacity to shine despite a persons grim, caustic mentality. But no, the grey sky, thick clouds, heavy rain and chaotic bedroom were entirely appropriate. For this, I am grateful.
Dumbfoundedness was replaced by overwhelming grief but before I could become fully consumed I began to rationalise and remind myself that I have things to do and can't afford to be weighed down by the heaving emotional burdens that come with being in a state of mourning. For the next few moments, I waver between being absolutely distraught and accepting. Exhausted and motivated, horrified and content.
I am reminded that this life is not the be all and end all and try to think of death as a sweeter release. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Almost instantaneously as if by magic, the clouds parted and the grey was replaced with magnificent gloomy purple yellow haze. I felt content and alive. Once again reminded of my own mortality and the ticking clocks of the people around me. I am grateful and almost honoured to have been alive at the same time as such a brilliant, true visionary and that I was left with a gift that felt so utterly personal to me and only me. Despite his worldwide adorations.
Almost with a sense of urgency I check Gerard Ways twitter with the knowledge of how touched he would be by these circumstances. Who I could trust to express what I was experiencing. To provide to rhyme to reason, if you will.
'I love you forever David Bowie' ...Perfect.
Not having the energy to cook dinner I head to my car. I am overwhelmed by a sense of excitement. Although his journey on this plane has come to an end my creative pursuits have just begun. This side of the sky is glorious. Smokey purple, yellow and I see a bright rainbow, a good omen.
Although I'm still momentarily teary and my face is showing a moment where I am inconsolable, not only due to devastation, but because I can't talk to anyone about it. How can I explain mourning someone I never even knew? Especially without sounding immature and a little fangirlee.
I feel like it hit me on a deep and totally authentic level that only really applies to me and me only. As if he wrote the words and sang the songs and evolved throughout the ages for me personally. Even though the majority of this occurred before my birth. The sky consoled me with its rainbow and light, sheer magic.
I still remember driving in the car as a child listening to Starman on the radio. I was captivated and payed special attention to the whimsy in the lyrics. Songwriting changed.
 |
| tasty |
 |
| So personal, haven't even 'grammed this shit!.. |
Thanks for reading, kiddos! Means a lot. I don't know why I shared my word-for-word journal entry. My brain just said I gotta.
-Saatana Lee Rose (yo Daddy's role model, tell him I said he can keep my hairpins, I have no use for them anymore...) xoxoxoxooxox Love me.
Wednesday, 3 August 2016
A Stranger Gave Me A Psychic Reading In An Airport...
Let's take it back, all the way back to a few months ago, shall we? I was leaving the Territory earlier than normal (For those that don't know, I was participating in fly in/fly out study, hollaaaa) and a friend was driving music equipment from Sydney to Melbourne and asked if I wanted to come. It was less than a week before we had to leave. I was down because I'm basically the most spontaneous motherfucker on the planet. Like you have no idea. I'm so spontaneous. My parents actually wanted to name me spontaneous originally because I was born 2 weeks overdue. No fucks given. Just so super spontaneous like that, ya dig? Ugh, so spontaneous. Anyway...
The title pretty much sums it up. I was going through security check in an airport when a delightful stranger took it upon himself to compliment my fully sick rainbow hair. I then noticed his alarmingly vibrant Turquoise type of shirt (one of my top ten fave colours) and told him how I really felt, 'THANKS! I LIKE YOUR SHIRT!'
Apparently it was a golf shirt. Didn't know what a golf shirt was, still don't know what a golf shirt is. I think it's a shirt specifically for playing golf? But I thought people did that in Polo shirts. Wait, are those just for playing polo? This is blowing my damn mind.
Before I continue, there's a couple of stories that you probably should read so the next bit hits just that little bit closer to home.
1. Music was and is everything to me. When I'm feeling really great, really shitty or literally anything in between, music is there. It wasn't until I had a dream that I was telling Gerard Way (yassss) this until I realized it. But because I was made to deal with things as a child that I didn't have the coping mechanisms for, I'd repress a lot of my emotions. Music was a device that allowed me to process the feelings that I had no coping mechanisms for. In an instant, it can change my mood.
2. At 6, my Dad bought me a guitar. I was eager as a beaver and became rather infatuated, even a little bit fixated on this device. I wrote songs, I played them on guitar. From a young age I'd always wanted to be a forensic scientist. Playing guitar put me in quite a predicament. Could I be a forensic scientist AND a guitarist? Fortunately my Dad said yes. I played one of my songs for my Mum and had told her I wanted to be a forensic scientist guitarist. She told me guitarists move their fingers more or some bullshit like that. I'm strong, but I'm sensitive as fuck (shh, secret) and I was crushed. Sure, she had good intentions. But she was young, I was her first child and her delivery was poor at best. I put that guitar down and never picked it up again. Still kept at writing lyrics.
2.At the tender age of about 14, I was at a gig and had an alarmingly unique experience. I've always heard of people having these experiences, but I'd never come to imagine I'd experience this to the same magnitude. In the middle of the concert, it was as if I'd been transported to another dimension for just a moment and I was overwhelmed with an indescribable feeling. I suppose I can try to explain it. It was like instinct, a deep knowing, right in my core that I needed to be on that stage, in that industry. I was still experiencing hella doubt, so I decided to put the feeling down to a heavy involvement in the industry, probably dating musicians.
Fun Fact: I have pretty much exclusively dated musicians (not intentionally.) Another fun fact: Musicians are fucking crazy. The last guy I was seeing, seemed super normal, corporate, sane and (apart from the tattoos) not very creatively inclined. It was nice. He said his first tattoo was a music note and then it began. Turns out, he was in bands when he was younger and spoke more and more about getting into music again. I was partly excited, partly, 'God dammit, another one?!' Turned out he had more issues than Vogue, Cosmo and US Weekly combined. And then some.
3. I did do music as a subject in high school, I had sung in front of assembly in primary school and participated in the school choir. But the idea of music was still absolutely terrifying. Playing it scared me. I'd tell myself I wasn't good enough, that it was basically too late to learn (what the actual fuck.) I basically ruled it out for myself for all eternity because it was so damn terrifying.
4. When I find myself with a predicament knocking around in my skull, I do tend to toss that shit up to the universe. Something as simple as asking for a sign, I find it can bring me clarity. A sign always comes. It has never lead me wrong. It is always absolutely undeniable. Like that time I was seeing the guy (mentioned above) and he was constantly cancelling on me, lying to me and leaving majority of my calls/texts unanswered (like a lil bitch.) I knew I was being treated shitty. I knew I deserved better. But I'm still aspiring for self worth. I was approached by a man, in a bar, after a Steel Panther gig. I told him I was seeing someone, this man looked directly into my soul and asked, 'But where is he now? He does not deserve you!' Even though this man was unduly intoxicated, he had a point. I asked for a sign after this interaction and written in on the wall in bold CAPS, 'DUMP HIM!!!' Pretty direct, amiright? Ask and you shall receive. (Still didn't dump him by the way, still kept entertaining his silly little boy antics.)
Before I embarked on the roadtrip which was to became a whimsical, mind boggling experience of pure magic! I was doing a wee bit of thinking about where I am, where I wanted to be and what I wanted to be doing. The idea of writing, recording and performing music still whizzed around my brain from time to time. I had gathered pages upon pages of songs I'd carelessly written. I started to attempt poetry, which always became another song. I threw the question up into the stars, 'What about music?'
After that delightful little golf shirt interaction, we continued to pass through security check. That's when the fun really began.
He asked me if I played music. I told him that I used to (I also used to play the clarinet. Giggity.) He suddenly entered into an almost trance like state and his style of speaking was very, very direct. He told me to get rid of my self doubt. He said that music was my gift, that I'll bring a lot of people together with my music and to start believing in myself. I was told that I needed to share my musical talents with the world. He then began describing who I was in my friendship groups and my bedroom decor (to pinpoint accuracy) for confirmation.
If I can recall correctly, he said his name was Josh and that he travels the world praying for people. He said that he felt like the message was directly from god and that it was important for me to know and the reason he was drawn to me as I was walking past was because he'd seen music notes all around me.
Pretty magical, right?
Do you want to know the best part? He didn't ask for my phone number or make any sly, sexual passes afterwards. My friend, who had witnessed the whole thing, was instantly skeptical (and rightly so.) I mean, you could look at a person with rainbow hair and an alternative fashion sense and assume that they're pretty into their music. But the fact that he didn't really stay around seemed like he hadn't any ulterior motives in mind. The way he described not only who I was in my friendship groups (quite specifically) but also physical decorations I had on my walls.
Think what you want to think. I'm quite a spiritually inclined person and when I asked for a sign and received this shit, I feel like there's just too many synchronicities to ignore. I also found it interesting that he said he saw music notes around me and just the night before, the person I was seeing had told me about his music note tattoo and the friend I was travelling with also had a base clef tattoo. It was like I literally had music notes on the people around me (no, I'm not reaching.)
Another synchronicity! Once aboard the aircraft, I told my lovely friend that had witnessed this entire encounter about my notebooks full of songs. She reminded me that she'd studied music and offered to help me with the musical aspect of the songs.
Now we meet once a week to work on a song. Was it absolutely terrifying showing my personal writing to a close friend? Yes. It was evening worse singing in front of her and it was absolutely terrifying recording that signing. But we're nearly finished. it's raw and I can't wait for you to hear it!
In the words of my baby, Bowie, 'I don't know where I'm going for here, but I promise, it won't be boring.'
Have you been attempting something that scares you? I do hope so. If not, what's stopping you? The 'Doubt Monster'?
I never took a photo with him, but you can see photos of us at Bondi and me cartwheeling in front of parliament house in the wee hours on the night @saatanaleerose
Youtube!
Facebook!
Twitter!
Instagram!
There was also a lot of footage from that roadtrip that I've been editing. I'll leave a link when it's up on my channel.
Until next time, stay bright, shiny lil cupcake.
-Saatana Lee Rose xoxxo Keep on keeping on. Keep on doing you.
The title pretty much sums it up. I was going through security check in an airport when a delightful stranger took it upon himself to compliment my fully sick rainbow hair. I then noticed his alarmingly vibrant Turquoise type of shirt (one of my top ten fave colours) and told him how I really felt, 'THANKS! I LIKE YOUR SHIRT!'
Apparently it was a golf shirt. Didn't know what a golf shirt was, still don't know what a golf shirt is. I think it's a shirt specifically for playing golf? But I thought people did that in Polo shirts. Wait, are those just for playing polo? This is blowing my damn mind.
Before I continue, there's a couple of stories that you probably should read so the next bit hits just that little bit closer to home.
1. Music was and is everything to me. When I'm feeling really great, really shitty or literally anything in between, music is there. It wasn't until I had a dream that I was telling Gerard Way (yassss) this until I realized it. But because I was made to deal with things as a child that I didn't have the coping mechanisms for, I'd repress a lot of my emotions. Music was a device that allowed me to process the feelings that I had no coping mechanisms for. In an instant, it can change my mood.
2. At 6, my Dad bought me a guitar. I was eager as a beaver and became rather infatuated, even a little bit fixated on this device. I wrote songs, I played them on guitar. From a young age I'd always wanted to be a forensic scientist. Playing guitar put me in quite a predicament. Could I be a forensic scientist AND a guitarist? Fortunately my Dad said yes. I played one of my songs for my Mum and had told her I wanted to be a forensic scientist guitarist. She told me guitarists move their fingers more or some bullshit like that. I'm strong, but I'm sensitive as fuck (shh, secret) and I was crushed. Sure, she had good intentions. But she was young, I was her first child and her delivery was poor at best. I put that guitar down and never picked it up again. Still kept at writing lyrics.
2.At the tender age of about 14, I was at a gig and had an alarmingly unique experience. I've always heard of people having these experiences, but I'd never come to imagine I'd experience this to the same magnitude. In the middle of the concert, it was as if I'd been transported to another dimension for just a moment and I was overwhelmed with an indescribable feeling. I suppose I can try to explain it. It was like instinct, a deep knowing, right in my core that I needed to be on that stage, in that industry. I was still experiencing hella doubt, so I decided to put the feeling down to a heavy involvement in the industry, probably dating musicians.
Fun Fact: I have pretty much exclusively dated musicians (not intentionally.) Another fun fact: Musicians are fucking crazy. The last guy I was seeing, seemed super normal, corporate, sane and (apart from the tattoos) not very creatively inclined. It was nice. He said his first tattoo was a music note and then it began. Turns out, he was in bands when he was younger and spoke more and more about getting into music again. I was partly excited, partly, 'God dammit, another one?!' Turned out he had more issues than Vogue, Cosmo and US Weekly combined. And then some.
3. I did do music as a subject in high school, I had sung in front of assembly in primary school and participated in the school choir. But the idea of music was still absolutely terrifying. Playing it scared me. I'd tell myself I wasn't good enough, that it was basically too late to learn (what the actual fuck.) I basically ruled it out for myself for all eternity because it was so damn terrifying.
4. When I find myself with a predicament knocking around in my skull, I do tend to toss that shit up to the universe. Something as simple as asking for a sign, I find it can bring me clarity. A sign always comes. It has never lead me wrong. It is always absolutely undeniable. Like that time I was seeing the guy (mentioned above) and he was constantly cancelling on me, lying to me and leaving majority of my calls/texts unanswered (like a lil bitch.) I knew I was being treated shitty. I knew I deserved better. But I'm still aspiring for self worth. I was approached by a man, in a bar, after a Steel Panther gig. I told him I was seeing someone, this man looked directly into my soul and asked, 'But where is he now? He does not deserve you!' Even though this man was unduly intoxicated, he had a point. I asked for a sign after this interaction and written in on the wall in bold CAPS, 'DUMP HIM!!!' Pretty direct, amiright? Ask and you shall receive. (Still didn't dump him by the way, still kept entertaining his silly little boy antics.)
Before I embarked on the roadtrip which was to became a whimsical, mind boggling experience of pure magic! I was doing a wee bit of thinking about where I am, where I wanted to be and what I wanted to be doing. The idea of writing, recording and performing music still whizzed around my brain from time to time. I had gathered pages upon pages of songs I'd carelessly written. I started to attempt poetry, which always became another song. I threw the question up into the stars, 'What about music?'
After that delightful little golf shirt interaction, we continued to pass through security check. That's when the fun really began.
He asked me if I played music. I told him that I used to (I also used to play the clarinet. Giggity.) He suddenly entered into an almost trance like state and his style of speaking was very, very direct. He told me to get rid of my self doubt. He said that music was my gift, that I'll bring a lot of people together with my music and to start believing in myself. I was told that I needed to share my musical talents with the world. He then began describing who I was in my friendship groups and my bedroom decor (to pinpoint accuracy) for confirmation.
If I can recall correctly, he said his name was Josh and that he travels the world praying for people. He said that he felt like the message was directly from god and that it was important for me to know and the reason he was drawn to me as I was walking past was because he'd seen music notes all around me.
Pretty magical, right?
Do you want to know the best part? He didn't ask for my phone number or make any sly, sexual passes afterwards. My friend, who had witnessed the whole thing, was instantly skeptical (and rightly so.) I mean, you could look at a person with rainbow hair and an alternative fashion sense and assume that they're pretty into their music. But the fact that he didn't really stay around seemed like he hadn't any ulterior motives in mind. The way he described not only who I was in my friendship groups (quite specifically) but also physical decorations I had on my walls.
Think what you want to think. I'm quite a spiritually inclined person and when I asked for a sign and received this shit, I feel like there's just too many synchronicities to ignore. I also found it interesting that he said he saw music notes around me and just the night before, the person I was seeing had told me about his music note tattoo and the friend I was travelling with also had a base clef tattoo. It was like I literally had music notes on the people around me (no, I'm not reaching.)
Another synchronicity! Once aboard the aircraft, I told my lovely friend that had witnessed this entire encounter about my notebooks full of songs. She reminded me that she'd studied music and offered to help me with the musical aspect of the songs.
Now we meet once a week to work on a song. Was it absolutely terrifying showing my personal writing to a close friend? Yes. It was evening worse singing in front of her and it was absolutely terrifying recording that signing. But we're nearly finished. it's raw and I can't wait for you to hear it!
In the words of my baby, Bowie, 'I don't know where I'm going for here, but I promise, it won't be boring.'
Have you been attempting something that scares you? I do hope so. If not, what's stopping you? The 'Doubt Monster'?
I never took a photo with him, but you can see photos of us at Bondi and me cartwheeling in front of parliament house in the wee hours on the night @saatanaleerose
 |
| Just a couple of dope bitches doing dope shit with their lives xo |
Youtube!
Facebook!
Twitter!
Instagram!
There was also a lot of footage from that roadtrip that I've been editing. I'll leave a link when it's up on my channel.
Until next time, stay bright, shiny lil cupcake.
-Saatana Lee Rose xoxxo Keep on keeping on. Keep on doing you.
Wednesday, 27 July 2016
Last Friday Night.
*I mentioned in 'I'm modelling (again!)' that I had a bunch of unpublished blog posts, this is one of them from about a year ago*
Is this an online journal? I don't even know. But if there was ever a dear diary type of post, this would be it.
FRIDAY
The night before we had been filming our short film for around 4-5 hours straight after a full day of study, writing and being taught to twerk on walls by a man, who will be known from this post onwards as 'Loose Bruce.' Safe to say we were mentally and physically exhausted, which is probably why I showed up to class a good 3 hours late today. But that's okay. The best way to describe my campus I'd say would be consistently inconsistent. You can never trust what any of the staff say they will do, unless they are physically doing it right in front of you. As a person who is dealing with her intolerance of human error and general incompetence this is always a great fucking time for me. This is also why I was utterly shocked when I realized our shuttle into the city was going ahead as planned (hell bitch yes.)
If I'm being honest here, the only reason I wanted to embark on this trip would be to buy candy, coffee, pringles and escape for a short while. Residing on campus in such a secluded rural town for two weeks at a time, I find after only a few days I'm craving lights and noise. Although it does bring a sense of balance to an otherwise erratic and somewhat hectic city living.
After stocking up on some much needed, erm 'supplies' me and my band of misfits headed to the the beach to climb rocks and pray there were no crocodiles lurking beneath our feet. Risky business indeed. I also really wish I could have vlogged or taken pictures of those moments but I just installed snap chat and although it's enhanced a fair few friendships, it drained my battery like a motherfuck. So Sorry. Please love me. I won't know how to accept this love but damn it I'll try.
As I had been involved in back to back activities all week, I had decided to relax, read, recharge and participate in a spot of yoga in my dorm room. Shortly after the bus had pulled into campus I found myself tagging along with a group consisting of Loose Bruce, Black Jesus, Fred and another gent whom I will probably always be forgetting his name. Pandemonium was on the horizon.
Our campus is shared with an army training facility and although we maybe mocked them and found their air of arrogance and false sense of importance a constant stream of entertainment; Everyone in our social circle had individually attempted to make contact with the army folk. To build a bridge of communication and maybe even friendship, because why not? But alas inflated egos and the sheep mentality of conformists had rendered all attempts futile. An example of how one of these such interactions went:
*Night time on campus, friends sit on the side of the road as military students walk passed*
Friend: -to army student- Hi!
Army student: Good night...
And all other interactions were similarly shut the fuck down or ignored completely. Until tonight.
It was the army students fly out tomorrow. They had their graduation that day, The clock had just struck midnight and things were getting pretty rowdy. I arrived at the pub and found my people interacting with the army folk... Interesting. Unfortunately by the time I'd arrived and mingled a sufficient amount, the pub had stopped doing serving takeaway liquor and were just about to call last drinks. Fortunately for me I am pretty much the party and can sober rage like a bad bitch. Everyone was pretty heavily intoxicated and only really just started to become acquainted, competing with the karaoke, fights that were beginning to break out and drunken banter around us.
Playing guessing games about each other in the midst of this chaos was when I heard what I am now referring to the second smoothest line I have ever heard in my life. It went a little something like this:
'I'm guessing your name is Jess, like gorjess, is your name gorJESS?'
It was corny. But that's what made is so brilliant. The sheer unpredictability caused me to lose my shit. This same gent guessed my fanatic fall out boy tendencies. From here on out, he will be referred to as 'Snapback.' Although his real name is Jeremy .
The rest of the night was rather hazy.
We were assigning each other batman characters. Everyone had agreed I was Harley Quinn. Some would be overjoyed at this assignment. For me this just did not fly. I waited patiently for a friend the stray from the group until I could approached her and ask tentatively if I could be the joker. Because I AM The Joker. She found it endearing and granted me the title of joker. It wouldn't have mattered too much. I would still be the joker, even if it were in my own mind. Because we, as beings on this planet are essentially alone in our own minds. Do we bleed the same blood? Do we see the same blue? Do we feel the same happiness? You just never know. Because you are alone and that is pretty much the only guaranteed thing you have to hang on to in this life. You're welcome.
Someone had caught wind of a nearby house party. We staggered there. Though I had more of a leaping gazelle approach if I'm going to be honest with myself and the internet. Upon arriving at the party I had some rather obscure conversations thrust at me. The most interesting was with Snapback and that consisted of space, aliens, metaphysics and comics we would draw as kids. He said he could make any situation awkward and went over to discuss something with the twins. It ended in a game of limbo which was the total opposite of awkward if you ask me. One of the military boys sat on my lap. Instead of turning it into a joke or asking him to get off like a normal human being I just screamed. Squealed is actually a better way to put it. Squealed until he got off and tried to make casual conversation with me but it was time to star gaze.
I left the group to star gaze on the lawn... The owner of the property approached me a week later and asked if I was the girl passed out on his lawn and refused to believe I was actually stargazing. A short while later after a small group of people had gravitated towards me and were having a conversation standing in a semi circle above me. I faded in and out of the conversation. Too busy stargazing and pondering every mystery in the entire universe. Suddenly it hit me. I realized that I was lying in quite a large patch of red dirt that was being pressed into the oversized white shirt I'd fashioned into a skimpy dress. I'd ask the person manning the speakers to play truffle butter. I don't think they were going to play it. It was time to leave. A friend valiantly covered me on our way out of the party.
On our journey back to campus we encountered water gushing out of the ground, result of a faulty sprinkler. I hear one of the friends daring me to run under the sprinkler. Snapback appeared. Perfect timing for me to hand him my bag and rinse myself of the mud/red dirt that had accumulated on my back. I looked like a drowned rat. Snapback put his snapback on me and I looked like a drowned rat in a snapback. We passed security and I was informed that was recycled sewage water. I'm pretty sure we drink recycled sewage water anyway so... That's really not the worst thing that can happen to me. Loose Bruce, K-rad, Snapback and I made it back to campus in the early hours of the morning. K-rad, Snapback, random military student and I retreated to the basketball courts to continue our fascinating conversations and dry off until about 5.30am.
I went to my room to snapchat my friend who resides in the U.S. I lost track off time and didn't sleep until a rather ungodly hour.
The remainder of the weekend was a haze of parties, vomiting, vodka soaked panties and waterfalls. You can see a quick montage of that on my vlog channel some time in the future.
Hope you enjoyed my journalistic fuckery. Maybe I'll see you in six months, maybe I'll see you next week. Maybe I love you. Just maybe...
Here's a couple of my links if you're interested in some of my other jazz. I wish jizz was also called jazz tbh.
Youtube!
Facebook!
Twitter!
Instagram!
Stay strong bby's, shine bright, kiss hot strangers (or not, whatever floats your goat.)
Also, here's a quote that really razzed me this morning when I was about to be super petty:
- Saatana Lee Rose xoxoxoo Stay good, golden.
Is this an online journal? I don't even know. But if there was ever a dear diary type of post, this would be it.
FRIDAY
The night before we had been filming our short film for around 4-5 hours straight after a full day of study, writing and being taught to twerk on walls by a man, who will be known from this post onwards as 'Loose Bruce.' Safe to say we were mentally and physically exhausted, which is probably why I showed up to class a good 3 hours late today. But that's okay. The best way to describe my campus I'd say would be consistently inconsistent. You can never trust what any of the staff say they will do, unless they are physically doing it right in front of you. As a person who is dealing with her intolerance of human error and general incompetence this is always a great fucking time for me. This is also why I was utterly shocked when I realized our shuttle into the city was going ahead as planned (hell bitch yes.)
If I'm being honest here, the only reason I wanted to embark on this trip would be to buy candy, coffee, pringles and escape for a short while. Residing on campus in such a secluded rural town for two weeks at a time, I find after only a few days I'm craving lights and noise. Although it does bring a sense of balance to an otherwise erratic and somewhat hectic city living.
After stocking up on some much needed, erm 'supplies' me and my band of misfits headed to the the beach to climb rocks and pray there were no crocodiles lurking beneath our feet. Risky business indeed. I also really wish I could have vlogged or taken pictures of those moments but I just installed snap chat and although it's enhanced a fair few friendships, it drained my battery like a motherfuck. So Sorry. Please love me. I won't know how to accept this love but damn it I'll try.
As I had been involved in back to back activities all week, I had decided to relax, read, recharge and participate in a spot of yoga in my dorm room. Shortly after the bus had pulled into campus I found myself tagging along with a group consisting of Loose Bruce, Black Jesus, Fred and another gent whom I will probably always be forgetting his name. Pandemonium was on the horizon.
Our campus is shared with an army training facility and although we maybe mocked them and found their air of arrogance and false sense of importance a constant stream of entertainment; Everyone in our social circle had individually attempted to make contact with the army folk. To build a bridge of communication and maybe even friendship, because why not? But alas inflated egos and the sheep mentality of conformists had rendered all attempts futile. An example of how one of these such interactions went:
*Night time on campus, friends sit on the side of the road as military students walk passed*
Friend: -to army student- Hi!
Army student: Good night...
And all other interactions were similarly shut the fuck down or ignored completely. Until tonight.
It was the army students fly out tomorrow. They had their graduation that day, The clock had just struck midnight and things were getting pretty rowdy. I arrived at the pub and found my people interacting with the army folk... Interesting. Unfortunately by the time I'd arrived and mingled a sufficient amount, the pub had stopped doing serving takeaway liquor and were just about to call last drinks. Fortunately for me I am pretty much the party and can sober rage like a bad bitch. Everyone was pretty heavily intoxicated and only really just started to become acquainted, competing with the karaoke, fights that were beginning to break out and drunken banter around us.
Playing guessing games about each other in the midst of this chaos was when I heard what I am now referring to the second smoothest line I have ever heard in my life. It went a little something like this:
'I'm guessing your name is Jess, like gorjess, is your name gorJESS?'
It was corny. But that's what made is so brilliant. The sheer unpredictability caused me to lose my shit. This same gent guessed my fanatic fall out boy tendencies. From here on out, he will be referred to as 'Snapback.' Although his real name is Jeremy .
The rest of the night was rather hazy.
We were assigning each other batman characters. Everyone had agreed I was Harley Quinn. Some would be overjoyed at this assignment. For me this just did not fly. I waited patiently for a friend the stray from the group until I could approached her and ask tentatively if I could be the joker. Because I AM The Joker. She found it endearing and granted me the title of joker. It wouldn't have mattered too much. I would still be the joker, even if it were in my own mind. Because we, as beings on this planet are essentially alone in our own minds. Do we bleed the same blood? Do we see the same blue? Do we feel the same happiness? You just never know. Because you are alone and that is pretty much the only guaranteed thing you have to hang on to in this life. You're welcome.
Someone had caught wind of a nearby house party. We staggered there. Though I had more of a leaping gazelle approach if I'm going to be honest with myself and the internet. Upon arriving at the party I had some rather obscure conversations thrust at me. The most interesting was with Snapback and that consisted of space, aliens, metaphysics and comics we would draw as kids. He said he could make any situation awkward and went over to discuss something with the twins. It ended in a game of limbo which was the total opposite of awkward if you ask me. One of the military boys sat on my lap. Instead of turning it into a joke or asking him to get off like a normal human being I just screamed. Squealed is actually a better way to put it. Squealed until he got off and tried to make casual conversation with me but it was time to star gaze.
I left the group to star gaze on the lawn... The owner of the property approached me a week later and asked if I was the girl passed out on his lawn and refused to believe I was actually stargazing. A short while later after a small group of people had gravitated towards me and were having a conversation standing in a semi circle above me. I faded in and out of the conversation. Too busy stargazing and pondering every mystery in the entire universe. Suddenly it hit me. I realized that I was lying in quite a large patch of red dirt that was being pressed into the oversized white shirt I'd fashioned into a skimpy dress. I'd ask the person manning the speakers to play truffle butter. I don't think they were going to play it. It was time to leave. A friend valiantly covered me on our way out of the party.
On our journey back to campus we encountered water gushing out of the ground, result of a faulty sprinkler. I hear one of the friends daring me to run under the sprinkler. Snapback appeared. Perfect timing for me to hand him my bag and rinse myself of the mud/red dirt that had accumulated on my back. I looked like a drowned rat. Snapback put his snapback on me and I looked like a drowned rat in a snapback. We passed security and I was informed that was recycled sewage water. I'm pretty sure we drink recycled sewage water anyway so... That's really not the worst thing that can happen to me. Loose Bruce, K-rad, Snapback and I made it back to campus in the early hours of the morning. K-rad, Snapback, random military student and I retreated to the basketball courts to continue our fascinating conversations and dry off until about 5.30am.
I went to my room to snapchat my friend who resides in the U.S. I lost track off time and didn't sleep until a rather ungodly hour.
The remainder of the weekend was a haze of parties, vomiting, vodka soaked panties and waterfalls. You can see a quick montage of that on my vlog channel some time in the future.
 |
| A wild drowned rat appeared. |
Here's a couple of my links if you're interested in some of my other jazz. I wish jizz was also called jazz tbh.
Youtube!
Facebook!
Twitter!
Instagram!
Stay strong bby's, shine bright, kiss hot strangers (or not, whatever floats your goat.)
Also, here's a quote that really razzed me this morning when I was about to be super petty:
- Saatana Lee Rose xoxoxoo Stay good, golden.
Wednesday, 6 January 2016
YOUR NEW YEARS MOTIVATION//DID YOU KNOW THAT I'M A MODEL?
***JUST A QUICK NOTE THAT THIS MAY TRIGGER ANYONE THAT HAS BEEN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED, I ONLY BRIEFLY TOUCH ON IT, BUT I THOUGHT I'D GIVE Y'ALL A HEADS UP***
Whaat? No way! I know right? Crazy things have been happening lately on the floor of Tokyo or down in London to go, go with the record selection and the mirror reflection I'm dancing with myself. I have been listening to a lot of generation X lately, so thank-you for letting me put those lyrics in for no reason (it was only kind of funny.)
One such thing is my return to the modelling world! It has been such a long, long time (well, a couple of years) and I'm finally ready to get back in front of the lense and #werkit. The hash tags began as a joke and now I can't stop, refer to previous blog post and send help immediately.
But why the hiatus? You should have been crowned Australia's Next Top Model by now! Well, let me tell you a little something, something. Unfortunately, this is actually a big something, something and that is that there are a lot of fucking creeps out there! I know you are all shocked. But when you have a creepy manager who will send you a constant stream of perverted text messages and send you out to jobs with the sleaziest photographers who are consistently ignoring your personal boundaries and trying to push you to do more than what you're comfortable with, it's a little bit off putting. But at some point in time you've just got to say fuck these assholes (not literally...unless that's your thing, I don't judge.) and choose to pursue your dreams, regardless.
Unfortunately, this was during a pretty dark period of my life when I had just left a really high stress job and was left with nothing but extremely low self esteem and a desperation to prove I wasn't absolutely worthless. Without going into too much detail, this came at a bit of a cost to my mental and physical health.
But I only came out stronger. Sure, they are probably somedistasteful *ahem* perfectly normal and not gross photos of me floating out there in world wide web. But I did manage to walk away from the creeps, the weirdos and the perverted asshats and tell them all to back the fuck off (eventually.)
Anyone that knows me, knows that I have never been a person to take anyone's shit which is why this circumstance came as such a surprise to the couple of people that knew what I had been going through and tolerated. It was also pretty unsettling to myself that I had taken so much shit and let so many people tell me what to do. Dare I say that was the lowest point in my life? Maybe...Maybe.
But hey! You live and you learn and I realized that just because I'd been a bit of ball breaker with a take no shit attitude in the past, who had a temporary lapse in judgement and self esteem, doesn't mean I can't pick up the pieces and return to my natural state of ball breaker with a take no shit attitude. Let's call it jumping right back on the horse, shall we? I'm really happy to say that it doesn't compromise my worth as a person either.
So, I've been on a mission to rebuild my portfolio. This time with magical rainbow hair! and freelance for a while before I find an agency that I feel will represent me, my modelling and other secret talents (*cough* burlesque *cough*) properly. I have also been posting regularly to my YouTube channel and auditioning for a lot of acting jobs. Feels good man, feels good to get back out there. Here's a link to my channel, go show me sum luv if you're feeling me <3 (u no u wnt 2) and I'll leave a couple of cute lil snippy snaps of my rainbow glory below because I'm feeling so super generous.
Thanks for reading all about my biz. Luv u long time. Go and start something you never thought you could or go back to something you stopped because someone told you that you couldn't or made you feel like shit about it. Do it for you because nothing else really matters in the end except for your own health and happy.
-TheDoll, Saatana, whatever else xxx
Whaat? No way! I know right? Crazy things have been happening lately on the floor of Tokyo or down in London to go, go with the record selection and the mirror reflection I'm dancing with myself. I have been listening to a lot of generation X lately, so thank-you for letting me put those lyrics in for no reason (it was only kind of funny.)
One such thing is my return to the modelling world! It has been such a long, long time (well, a couple of years) and I'm finally ready to get back in front of the lense and #werkit. The hash tags began as a joke and now I can't stop, refer to previous blog post and send help immediately.
But why the hiatus? You should have been crowned Australia's Next Top Model by now! Well, let me tell you a little something, something. Unfortunately, this is actually a big something, something and that is that there are a lot of fucking creeps out there! I know you are all shocked. But when you have a creepy manager who will send you a constant stream of perverted text messages and send you out to jobs with the sleaziest photographers who are consistently ignoring your personal boundaries and trying to push you to do more than what you're comfortable with, it's a little bit off putting. But at some point in time you've just got to say fuck these assholes (not literally...unless that's your thing, I don't judge.) and choose to pursue your dreams, regardless.
Unfortunately, this was during a pretty dark period of my life when I had just left a really high stress job and was left with nothing but extremely low self esteem and a desperation to prove I wasn't absolutely worthless. Without going into too much detail, this came at a bit of a cost to my mental and physical health.
But I only came out stronger. Sure, they are probably some
Anyone that knows me, knows that I have never been a person to take anyone's shit which is why this circumstance came as such a surprise to the couple of people that knew what I had been going through and tolerated. It was also pretty unsettling to myself that I had taken so much shit and let so many people tell me what to do. Dare I say that was the lowest point in my life? Maybe...Maybe.
But hey! You live and you learn and I realized that just because I'd been a bit of ball breaker with a take no shit attitude in the past, who had a temporary lapse in judgement and self esteem, doesn't mean I can't pick up the pieces and return to my natural state of ball breaker with a take no shit attitude. Let's call it jumping right back on the horse, shall we? I'm really happy to say that it doesn't compromise my worth as a person either.
So, I've been on a mission to rebuild my portfolio. This time with magical rainbow hair! and freelance for a while before I find an agency that I feel will represent me, my modelling and other secret talents (*cough* burlesque *cough*) properly. I have also been posting regularly to my YouTube channel and auditioning for a lot of acting jobs. Feels good man, feels good to get back out there. Here's a link to my channel, go show me sum luv if you're feeling me <3 (u no u wnt 2) and I'll leave a couple of cute lil snippy snaps of my rainbow glory below because I'm feeling so super generous.
Thanks for reading all about my biz. Luv u long time. Go and start something you never thought you could or go back to something you stopped because someone told you that you couldn't or made you feel like shit about it. Do it for you because nothing else really matters in the end except for your own health and happy.
-TheDoll, Saatana, whatever else xxx
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