Tag: Tim Burton

Tim Burton

beetlejus

Tim Burton has always been my favorite director. 

From the first time I saw Nightmare Before Christmas I knew I loved his style.   Burton’s dark and quirky genre of film has attracted many fans, including me, over the years.

The thing that always appealed to me about his work, is that no matter how dark the colors and the characters may be, the movie always seems so bright. 

Take Edward Scissorhands, for example. This movie terrified me the first time I saw it, 7-year-old me would cling to my mother at the sight of a transformed Johnny Depp.

As I got older, I began to look past the frightening front of this movie to the much deeper meaning found in it. 

Edward Scissorhands was much more than a bizarre story about a man with scissors for hands.  It was about isolation and self discovery, and I learned so much from it. 

Movies have always been a constant in my life. 

Whenever I was sad, angry or just felt alone, the eccentric and beautiful characters of Tim Burton would fill me with laughter and joy. 

I related to his characters so deeply – so much they’ve almost became apart of me.

In my life, I’ve always been considered an outsider, I’ve done my own thing and been happy while doing it. 

When I started high school things began to change.  If you weren’t like every other girl in the school you were suddenly weird. 

Not fitting in is an age-old story, especially for teenage girls, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.  I was different, and I knew that, except suddenly it didn’t feel so great.

 Naturally, I turned the imagination of Tim Burton.  His characters are almost always outsiders, look at Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice or Sally from Nightmare before Christmas. 

These two outsiders both have huge hearts and make a difference to the people around them.  That’s what I strive to be. 

While I know I’ll probably never be a Tim Burton character (though Tim if you’re reading this, call me), I know, no matter how weird or different I may be, I can make a difference.

And that’s what I’ve learned from Tim Burton.

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Photo Credit to: http://www.d2fzf9bbqh0om5.cloudfront.net

 

Mickey’s Halloween Time

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I had the most amazing weekend.

I went to Disneyland with my roommate and one of my best friends, Brooke Browning.

We stayed at a Hilton, and as I walked in the door, I looked down to see a text from her:

I’m gonna get you.

Turning my head, I dropped all my bags and ran into her arms when I saw her running full speed at me.

What most people don’t understand is the intensity with which CIMIans miss each other during the year.  I hadn’t seen her in 63 days, which for us, is like 63 lifetimes.

At camp, the C’s (16-17 year olds) have a  Murder Mystery Party and this year it was cowboy themed.  I wore my costume from that crew night and Brooke went as Max from Where the Wild Things Are.  

She made her costume, mind you.  She makes everyone’s costumes at camp.

Disneyland at Halloween time is so awesome.  They go all out with the decorations, the shows, the commodities.

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Nonsense Poems

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Here are some of my favorite nonsense poems!

These photos are not mine.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,
  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
  And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
  He went galumphing back.”

-Section of “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll

Click the photo to see Johnny Depp recite “Jabberwocky” as the Mad Hatter

Raise your hand if you remember this poem from Tim Burton‘s 2010 version of Alice in Wonderland.  It sounded wonderful in Johnny Depp’s gravely, low Mad Hatter voice, his eyes burning emerald and hair of bright sienna.

“There was never a sound beside the wood but one, 
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. 
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; 
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, 
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound 
And that was why it whispered and did not speak. 
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours, 
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf: 
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak 
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, 
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers 
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake. 
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows. 
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.”

–“Mowing” by Robert Frost

I had to memorize this poem for my freshman English class in high school.  It struck me as strange and beautiful.  Though much time has passed since my recitation, the words have never left me and often when I am running in the heat or enduring some unpleasantry, they come floating back, soft and haunting.

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.”

-Section of “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe

I used to volunteer at a soup kitchen and I worked with a guy who could recite “The Raven” in its entirety.  If you know this poem, you will know that is remarkable.  If not, click the link above and see just how LOOONNNGGG this poem really is.  I read a series called Nightworld by Ljane Smith and one of the books in the series is called “Witchlight.”  There is a character in the story named Iliana Harman who is said to be very beautiful.  An artist creates portraits of the characters for Ms. Smith’s website and the depiction of Iliana seems like the perfect face for the mysterious Lenore.

Portrait of Iliana Harman by Jan Sovak

“Let us go then, you and I,
To the Tomb of Ligeia, bye and bye,
Let us go to the Kingdom by the Sea,
The fish and chip shop of Annabelle Lee.
Let us go to the costal laundrette run by Lenore,
Let us throw open the windows and the door,
Dispel the gloom and evict the black cat,
Make a monkey of the ape asleep upon the mat.
Let us drink a draught of Hemlock at the House of Usher,
Where the décor is like the unquiet tomb, only plusher,
Let us imbibe at the Tell Tale Heart,
Let the parrots sing and the ravens play their part.
Alas, alas, M. Valdemar has come and I am at the door,
And I hear a melancholy chorus of black birds crying, Nevermore.”

-“The Love Song of Edgar Allen Poe” by Max Scratchmann

I thought this little poem amusing if not only for referencing two of my favorite poems (“The Raven” and “Annabel Lee”) and a few excellent short stories but it is also quite clever and, to my standards, nonsensical.

Note: He does spell Annabel Lee differently than Poe.

Annabel Lee