Dreamhouses on Film

Barbie loves the cinema and often the architecture is as much a star as the boys and girls on film! Here's some dream homes you might recall seeing in your favorite films!

Dreamhouses on Film

 

Ferris Bueller: Cameron Frye’s House

The Big Lebowski: Sheats-Goldstein Residence

Bladerunner: Frank Lloyd Wright Ennis House

Diamonds are Forever: Bond Villain’s Lair

LA Confidential: Lovell House

Sleepless in Seattle: Tom Hanks’ Houseboat

A Single Man: The Schaffer Residence

Did you recognize any of these dreamhouses on film?

Barbie hopes so!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Dream

All dreams are ageless. What you wanted as a teenager has no expiration as an adult. If you have a dream... keep holding on to your dreams tightly like you're hugging your lover and never let them go. 

Here's an old one about holding on tightly...

Do you have dreams from your teenage years?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Tighter

(2-2-2011)

Through the low lights of approaching evening we are two that become one. Hand in hand walking, our arms locked into each other while our feet match the same stride. The graceful descent of the sun cascades a shadow of lavender across the horizon and a slight chill to the air. The houses seem quieter and less than inviting to our passing steps. Our movements manage to dance in unison through this empty street alone without notice.

The silence that surrounds us sends him into a whimsical mood. With a slip of a hand his arm wraps over and around me with a spin stopping our forward pace. Closer he turns me again and again before taking me in. Hugging gently, his sliding arms circle and lock around my torso. His fingers interlace behind my back. Each finger reaches inward as if to take me in whole. Tighter.

Attempting to match his embrace, my hands scramble. Both arms are struggling to return his hold. Dancing with his merging frame, tighter they squeeze and begin moving closer together. Carefully my probing hands find their way around his body until one ends where another begins. Locking in a grip that rests in the small of his back while my head finds its place upon his chest. Tighter.

The night becomes cooler in our surroundings. Light purple becomes a deeper violet and we’re wrapped around each other in a hold. Our arms are gripping each other securely and pulling without restraint until there is nothing between them. The crushing force of our weight against each other completes the circle. My face rests on his chest looking up into his eyes. His eyes look down into mine and he releases a heavy breath upon my face. I rest my lips upon his neck with a gentle kiss and squeeze. His arms return the constriction and his lips touch my forehead. Our breathing sounds deeper through the force of our embrace. Strained shallow breathes escape with a heaviness that’s familiar. Tighter.  

Our bodies have no beginning and no end in the last light of the day. There are no sounds around us. No streets, no houses,  and no one walking through the night. There’s only this feeling of security in our circle. In this moment we’re all alone. Alone in the world but we’re connected in our own moment. There’s nothing and no one anymore.

Focus

 

Focus on the memories you make instead of keeping track of what you've done. I don't recall my first story written, my first photograph escapes me, & even my first race  won. It's not a regret when you focus on the moments. Some moments are more memorable than others. Perhaps my life is better for a lack of recalling. I can't recall the exact last time I wore my toe shoes but I know I'll be wearing them again. Sure all people have their firsts... but if you focus on the first of everything you do then you'll never reach the second or third or so on. While it's great to recognize where you start... stay present so you can keep going and become what you're meant to be. Love yourself.

Here's a old one about letting go...

Do you hold on to all the firsts? Or keep going?

Letting Go

(Revision: October 2012)

Time heals all wounds. Or does it? Quite simply you have to question that logic. In time broken bones can mend. But what about broken hearts, dreams and bruised egos? There are things in life that we are trained to accept and move forward from. Loss of life, love, limb, and livelihood are all things that require a bit of recovery and never hold the same meaning once they are lost. Yet, you move on. This brings me to where I'm at tonight, standing on the top floor of this parking garage with Victoria dangling over the edge waiting to fall. Here we're having a heart to heart; trying to make her see things as I do.

Sometimes you have to move on and let go.

“Things have become so distant in this life and it's time for a change. On some human level you must feel it too? We wouldn't be here if you didn't. I can see in your eyes there's fear. I'm afraid too. Life is an experience full of opportunities. As I hold your hand tightly in mine, it seems as though I shouldn't let go. But there comes a time to let go. In order to find freedom from the constraints of humanity, you must stop fighting.”

“Don't. “She trembles and grips tighter to my hand as she begins to whimper. Shifting her weight and I'm immediately finding it harder to maintain my own balance as she hangs off the edge. Beneath us the cold air whistles and the empty streets echo our sounds.

“Darling, you must believe this when I tell you that there is nothing left of this life and who you were. Letting go is the ultimate release and only way for this...”

“I don't... JUST HOLD ON TO ME!” Victoria's shrill cry pierces the silence as she latches onto my grip tighter and begins to sob.

“Please, shh. Listen.” Tears stream down her cheeks as the sobbing grows louder. “Victoria, I need you to remain calm. It is important that you accept this. We can not linger here all night. This must be over. See this my way. I know in your heart you can. Please.”

“D-D-D-ON'T!” She stutters and begs me through her choked back tears. “Not yet. I'm not ready. I'm scared. How do I know this is the right choice? “ Her hands grip me tighter.

One might question how I find myself in this predicament. How does a person spend day in and day out convincing complete strangers to let go of life's most crucial heartbreaks, disappointment if you will and accept change. Just a simple twist of fate you could say. At one point I'd found myself on the other end of the dial, asking a stranger to solve my life's tough choice cause I couldn't do it alone. What that person gave me, the advice, well it saved my life.

Sink or Swim? Fight or Flight?

It was at that point I realized helping others who weren't able to push themselves was rewarding. Those who couldn't choose needed me. What's the harm in a little motivation? It was enough of motivation for me to take that first step myself. And I've never looked back.

Taking a hold of Victoria's arm I return her grasp whole-heartedly. “Have you let this fear affect you? We've been through this, and it's best if you embrace the situation. Give in to your true nature. Without that dedication how can you possibly hope to let go. This is your peace of mind. Face it with the strength and poise that is within you. Do not beg for life as you know it. Accept what is to come. Be Strong.”

She weakens her grip and I pull her up into an embrace.

“Are you ready?” I whisper into her ear.

“Almost,” She releases a few more tears.

“You don't have to do this.” I tell her. “If you're not ready you don't...”

“I want to. Just keep holding my hand until I'm ready.” She whispers.

My arms slowly release her body and I remain gripped in a hand lock as I lower her back down to the edge. Our eyes meet and the tears have faded. I know she's prepared herself.

“It's time?” I question and she nods. “Victoria, promise me, you will be brave about this. I know you have the courage within you. Have dignity.Don't scream.”

Her eyes indicate certainty and I know there's no going back.

“I'm ready now. Let go.”

The iron clad grip of her hand releases. There's no fear in those blue eyes. No sounds escape that determined mouth. Quietly her body descends in a graceful free fall into the dark night. Before reaching the street below Victoria whimpers loudly and arches her back spreading her wings to fly. Instincts kick in and her small form lifts with flight. With her purple and blue plumes reflecting the most brilliant colors she enters the night sky with a peaceful end to her past and a new beginning. It's probably the most beautiful thing to see a newborn embrace their true nature and let go.

Paint

Most people are painting a picture of themselves they want you to see. Some paint what's appealing, others paint exactly who they are. I enjoy the people who paint themselves as authentically as they are. 

Do you paint a picture you want others to see or are you truly authentic? 

Kisses, m.

What do you think?

2-21-2011

What do you think? It’s lovely. Isn’t it? 

That’s alright you don’t have to be an art critic to have an opinion on art. Seriously tell me what you think. 

It’s important that you remain objective though. 

Excuse me? As a matter of fact it… yes I am the artist. 

I’ve been painting since I was five years old. In fact, my first painting was a kitten that looked a bit like a dog sitting next to a ball of yarn shaped like a square. The colors were all wrong too. Can you believe that? 

You can. I see. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you mean by that comment? Oh, you’re absolutely right. Everyone does have to start somewhere. Ain’t that the truth of it? 

Thirteen years ago is when I decided I wanted to do this professionally. Progression? You might say there is a lot of progression in my work. There’s a piece on the wall behind you that is at least eight years old. 

Look at that one. Now look at this one then tell me what you see. 

No, not at all. I don’t want a critic’s voice. If I did, I could ask that man over there. 

Who?! He’s a writer for the Post. He crucifies painters and eats their insides for breakfast. For being an art critic he rarely appreciates anything artistic. As a matter of fact, he didn’t think too highly of my last showing a year ago. It was at this tiny place in Brooklyn. And not only did he manage to attack my work, he found a way to butcher the gallery in the same three line critique.

Touchy? You might say I’m a little sensitive. But you like the work, don’t you? 

Really, tell me what you think.

Easy

It's easy to copy someone and much harder to put in effort to make a life built on your own. But the effort you put in will always make it worth the work. Anything worth doing will never be easy. 

~m.