#love listening to radiohead on the way to school to make my day even sadder

[lorawant2sleep]

tired sketches?

[bigmouthbadsleeper]

Mascara Tears.

The year is 1996 and I am twelve years old. I have just started junior high, and my mother has just allowed me to go to the movies alone. “Alone” meaning my friend, one year my senior, and me got dropped off by my mom and her sky blue Oldsmobile and picked up by her mom and her sage green mini van. The movie we saw was Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet. It was kind of a big deal because it was the first movie I saw in a theater on my own, with no grown-ups present. I had no idea what Romeo + Juliet was really about. I knew it was about romance. I knew that Romeo and Juliet were “star cross’d”, but I had no idea what that phrase meant. I was, after all, twelve years old. All I really knew about the film was that the advertising campaign had dominated my YM and TEEN magazines the entire summer prior to its release. It was a genius marketing campaign, for the record. They had stuck postcards in every issue of every teen-oriented magazine on the stands. If you collected them all they pieced together, like a puzzle, to spell words and connect scenes from the movie. I think this goes without saying, but I had all of them.

At the time, the most confusing thing to me about this film was not the ending, although it haunted and upset me for weeks, if not months after. I was confused from the second the movie started, and those of you who’ve seen it know what I’m talking about. It was set in present day, but the language was old-timey. They called their guns “swords”? Romeo took drugs??? I have to add all the question marks here. The first ten minutes alone are enough to make a person feel insane. But then the fight between the two families breaks, and the music softens, and we see Romeo. We see Romeo aka a baby faced Leonardo DiCaprio, and we hear Radiohead, and everything feels warm and good. Everything makes sense.

(honestly cigarettes are gross except in this movie. I don't make the rules.)

I remember sitting there in the dark theater after the movie ended, listening to “Exit Music For A Film”, one of my favorite Radiohead songs, which was written specifically for the end credits of this film. I remember being confused and angry. I remember my friend crying, and complaining about her mascara running. I remember being jealous because I didn’t wear mascara regularly. I only wore it when my mother received a free sample in her Lancôme gift with purchase. Looking back on it, some of my anger probably came from the fact that I was robbed of the dramatics of those black streams running down my face. I wanted not only to feel sad, but to look sad too. Feeling sad without really looking sad just felt like lying.

(all the cool girls had this mascara in their backpacks. I died of happiness every time my mom would give me one.)

 I came home to find my mother in her room.

“Have you seen that movie before? I mean have you read that play??”, I demanded.

“Yes.” She replied while folding laundry. She was more interested about sock matches, I could tell.

“Well do you know that they DIE at the end??” I said, too loudly, for shock factor. I wanted her to know how seriously I took this.

“Yes. It’s Shakespeare.” She picked up a sock, matched it with its sister and tossed it in the pile.

My eyes widened. I almost couldn’t believe she was so cavalier about it all.

“Well what was all that then? I thought this story was like about true love and stuff!”

“Well it’s a love story, but not all love stories are happy stories.”

 Preach, mom. Preach.

I always had a liking for sadder movies over happy movies. My favorite movie as a kid was Beaches, followed by Untamed Heart, both devastatingly sad, and my favorites only got sadder as I got older. But before Romeo + Juliet, I don’t know that I saw the beauty in sadness. I think about that movie experience often, especially when I'm feeling sad. It evoked a lot of strong emotions in me that i had never felt at the same time before. The perfect mixture of sadness and anger, sprinkled with beauty throughout, a deadly cocktail of emotions. The ironic thing, maybe, is that the only kind of love stories I wanted to watch after that one were tragic love stories. Some of my favorite movies today are tragic love stories, and I watch them over and over again. Though the stories are often different, at the core, the emotional cocktail is the same. The only difference now is that I wear mascara when I watch them. You know, for proof.

Why am I telling you about the experience I had watching this movie that you have probably never heard of? What's the point of sharing my sadness and anger over some film that doesn't really affect my life at all? It's because being a teenager is hard. When I was one, I thought it was the hardest thing ever. False. Being an adult is hard too sometimes. Turns out life is just hard no matter what! What fresh nonsense is this? It turns out that despite being difficult and sad at times, life is also really beautiful. One way to contribute to that beauty is to create art from the pain you're feeling. Think about it: if everyone always felt included, if no one was different, if the world were a perfect place, how much art would we have? How many songs or books would never be written? How many of our favorite paintings or movies wouldn't exist? All forms of art have always been a huge part of my recovery from depression and anxiety. I often found solace in film and television, music and books, and in turn I created art of my own. I wrote in journals every day from the ages of 13 to 25 (when I got older I blogged on a computer rather than wrote in a journal) which resulted in me being a good writer and speaker. That trip to the movies back in 1996 inspired me to write this piece for you, and hopefully help you feel a little better about yourself, and maybe learn something too.

When I was 13 I took a strong liking to makeup and hair color. I would babysit most weekends to make money, and then turn around and buy makeup and music with it (I have never been a good saver). I would come home from babysitting and sit in front of the mirror in my bedroom and consider my face; what was pleasant about it (my eye color), what needed work (my brows, always my brows). I started to rip pages out of my mom's fashion magazines that contained makeup looks that I loved, and on these weekend nights I would put music on and try to recreate these looks on myself. My music choices ranged everywhere from Janice Kapp Perry's “The Light Within” to Alanis Morissette's “Jagged Little Pill”. My likes have always been a bit of a contradiction to themselves. All this practice on my own face led to me being good at doing makeup on others which led me to being a successful makeup artist for the last fifteen years. I have been blessed with the ability to see the beauty in others, and in turn helping them see it in themselves. Makeup is such a fun way to be able to do that for people. I'm so happy to make someone feel good about themselves, in some small way. Makeup is a fun way to express myself and to make myself look better sometimes, but I know that real beauty is on the inside, and no amount of makeup can cover up an ugly soul or a mean spirit. The Lord looks at our insides to judge us, not our outsides. He doesn't care what you weigh, or if you know how to highlight and contour. He doesn't even care if your brows are uneven! How's that for unconditional love?

When you turn your pain into art, you can inspire others, and that is a beautiful thing. Art in some form has always inspired me to see the light in dark times. I am so grateful that suffering isn't always in vain. If we can find something beautiful in our journey, we should share it with others. Paint. Sing. Write. Act. Take a ceramics class at school! All of those things have helped me at one point in my life, with the exception of ceramics, because I actually FAILED that class my senior year and had to take a correspondence self-help class in order to graduate. Well guess what Mr. B?? That self help class was actually really great and way more helpful than your ceramics class ever was! I may not know how to throw a pot but I do know that if you want to have enough time for everything, you must put your big rocks in the mason jar before you put your pebbles in. If you are confused, see: Steven R. Covey's “Seven Habits for Highly Effective Teens” for more on the rocks in the mason jar object lesson. It's a classic.

This concludes somewhat messy, very heartfelt guide on how to survive your teen years. I actually could write for months on this subject, and I have over the years on my old blogs. Its kind of difficult to fit all of my thoughts into shorter, cohesive pieces of writing, so I apologize if I didn't do a great job. I have to confess I was nervous to contribute to this website because I know how many young people it reaches. I actually had a harder time writing these pieces than I have writing anything else, and I have written for blogs before. It was hard for me to pin down what I wanted you young girls to know most. And because I have a big mouth, and I never know when to stop talking, I will leave you with a few (more) pieces of advice before I go. I think the thing thing I wish so badly that I had worked harder on long ago when I was just a young girl, back before I heard anyone say I was gross, is loving myself, and being grateful for the body I have. I think it still would have been hard to hear those words because words like that are never easy to hear, but if I had known how beautiful I was, and that my body was something to be celebrated, I wouldn't have spent so much time telling myself that boy was right. I still struggle with body image. Sometimes I think about what it was like before I came to earth, and how what I wanted more than anything was a body. Now that I have one, I am mean to it, and I say that I hate it too often when I should be celebrating all the amazing wonderful things it can do. I can run and hike and tell jokes. I can see beautiful things and hear amazing music. I can touch furry cats and hold hands with people I love. My legs carry me around Disneyland. So much to be thankful for, yet I waste time tearing myself apart and listing all the ways that I fall short. It's such a shame.

Figure out what makes you unique and celebrate those things, don't hide them. Tell yourself you are beautiful every day because you are. Makeup and clothes and hairstyles are fun to experiment with but they aren't what leads to true happiness or beauty. Beauty on the outside cannot compensate for ugliness on the inside. If you ever find yourself in a position with anyone where you are campaigning for them to like or love you, get out immediately. Real love and friendship does not have to be bargained for. Protect your words and your kisses; don't give either away too easily. The boy who loves you most is the one who believes that your insides are beautiful, who looks at you the same whether you are fat, skinny, happy, or sad. True love isn't based on superficial things. Money can't buy happiness but it can solve a lot of problems, so set aside some money now so that one day you can help build a life for yourself. Know that your worth is not based on how many boys like you, or when you get your first boyfriend, but on how the savior sees you. He sees you for all that you are and all that you can be. He truly knows what you are capable of. You have a father in heaven who loves you and has a plan for you. Look to Him in times of trial or confusion and he will guide you in the best direction.

There's a hill about twenty minutes from my house that I used to drive up every weekend. I would put on some of my favorite songs and sing (and cry) along to the lyrics. I would park my car at the top of this hill and look out at the thousands of twinkling lights and try to pick out anything familiar from my drive. Sometimes I would recognize a building or spot an intersection, but mostly all the lights just twinkled together like glitter in the sun. Every time I looked at those lights it baffled me that an entire city existed within them. Houses, shopping centers, gas stations, happy people, sad people, lonely people... they all exist there in that sea of lights. Yet I can't see them. Stop lights and buildings that moments ago towered over me in my car are now invisible. I can't tell one from the next. Our lives are like cities; busy and lonely, full of hard stuff and happy stuff, and ultimately one big beautiful glitter bomb. How lucky are we to know that there is someone on the hill who can see every hard and beautiful thing? It's someone who loves us and wants nothing more than for us to make it back to Him one day. As you follow guidance from your Heavenly Father, believe in yourself. Know your worth. Trust in your talents and abilities. Speak kindly of yourself and others. Be a friend. And don't over-tweeze your eyebrows. Trust me on that one. You'll thank me one day.