I have always been plagued by many conundrums, however, this seems to encompass many, structuring a reoccurring theme. Though, many believe that introductions should not include questions, I find it hard to do anything else when I hold more questions than answers.
So here goes: What distinguishes the difference between an artist and a person who paints? One who plays an instrument and a musician? A person who is able to write well and a writer? What is the qualifying factor that sets in stone which end of the fence you reside?
Do you care about people or are you a humanitarian? Does it lie in intention, in effort or in the end product/situation?
I suppose the deepest problem I have is that I hold too many questions such as these, concepts seemingly paradoxical, however, immeasurable, forcing them to be nothing more nor less than one heavy conundrum.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Inspiration in chalk
I awoke this morning in much the same fashion as the past couple of days, around noon, clutching a pillow and reluctant to move. Using the ever successful process of mentally listing all that had to be done that day, I coaxed myself out of bed. With only one item on the to-do list “Go to the liquor store,” I cast the winning vote, 1-0, to get it over with.
Looking like a walking train wreck, I made it there and back. However, on my way into my neighborhood, I noticed a note written in chalk on the corner by the stop sign. I had seen it just a few minutes prior, but assumed it was just something a few neighborhood kids did last night in the name of undying rebellion.
Intrigued, I decided to stop the car and read the message.
In front of the stop sign read: “If this sign told you to live without fear would you still obey?”
To say I was stunned would be an understatement. In that moment the weight of all of my decisions, the things I have done, things I did not do, everything I have wanted and everything I needed was called into question.
Am I living in fear? If so, fear of what? Dissatisfaction or happiness, failure or success, predisposition or free will, control or freedom, the mundane or the fantastic, comfort or newness, longing or having? Much like the age old question: “Is one more afraid of dying or living?”
It is a strange experience for the universe to give you the exact sign you need in the moment you are starving for it.
Needless to say, I have not nor do I think I can at this moment, answer most, if any, of the questions posed above.
However, the rest of my day consisted of playing the piano for 9 straight hours, for the first time in years, writing numerous new songs and recording all that was played to be part of my second piano CD.
For that I thank the inspirational message writer and beckon you all to spread the inspiration through chalk.
Looking like a walking train wreck, I made it there and back. However, on my way into my neighborhood, I noticed a note written in chalk on the corner by the stop sign. I had seen it just a few minutes prior, but assumed it was just something a few neighborhood kids did last night in the name of undying rebellion.
Intrigued, I decided to stop the car and read the message.
In front of the stop sign read: “If this sign told you to live without fear would you still obey?”
To say I was stunned would be an understatement. In that moment the weight of all of my decisions, the things I have done, things I did not do, everything I have wanted and everything I needed was called into question.
Am I living in fear? If so, fear of what? Dissatisfaction or happiness, failure or success, predisposition or free will, control or freedom, the mundane or the fantastic, comfort or newness, longing or having? Much like the age old question: “Is one more afraid of dying or living?”
It is a strange experience for the universe to give you the exact sign you need in the moment you are starving for it.
Needless to say, I have not nor do I think I can at this moment, answer most, if any, of the questions posed above.
However, the rest of my day consisted of playing the piano for 9 straight hours, for the first time in years, writing numerous new songs and recording all that was played to be part of my second piano CD.
For that I thank the inspirational message writer and beckon you all to spread the inspiration through chalk.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
I thought it would be bigger...
I received my diploma in the mail this afternoon. I thought it would carry more girth and size than it does. Somewhat of a disappointment I guess; I have continuously found the graduation ordeal, in its entirety, much less than anti-climactic, that should say much.
Though many continuously point out the importance and impressiveness of such an “accomplishment,” I cannot help but think of it as something less than that, and more of an obligation.
By no means am I demeaning or belittling the blessed opportunity I have been awarded: to be able to achieve a higher formal education. Nonetheless, it has been the goal held for many years, now that it has been met there seems to be a void of sorts, begging the so-called potential, lying dormant in me, to do something with myself; something of worth, something more than satiating my idealized and delusionary understanding of this world.
I suppose this is my attempt to beckon myself, through writing, to finally do what I must, in order to be a better person; to volunteer abroad.
When framed in such a light, I am sure it sounds a tad pretentious, a bit self-deprecating and much on the selfish side.
As I am sure I have said before…I was once told that the ultimate form of selfishness is selflessness; a phrase I cannot ever forget hearing, for it still stings me, irrespective of how long ago it was said.
Ultimately, I suppose both are required, for, if it weren’t for that phrase once said to me, the debilitating poison in my ear, there might be a lessened passion to my drive.
All the same, I no longer believe that, however, now for different reasons than before; for more valid reasons.
It may make me feel like a better person to help other people, however, should I deny those in need out of the fear of selfishness?! Which is more selfish: to sit and constantly spew self-righteous views in an attempt to make others think…..OR…..to take a risk, leap off the branch and do what I feel is right in order to make a difference in the lives of others, knowing, full well, that though I may receive something in return (spiritual enlightenment, humanity etc.) that I provided something of equal worth to those in need; composing a symbiotic relationship, unclear in who plays which role, the giver or the recipient.
Though many continuously point out the importance and impressiveness of such an “accomplishment,” I cannot help but think of it as something less than that, and more of an obligation.
By no means am I demeaning or belittling the blessed opportunity I have been awarded: to be able to achieve a higher formal education. Nonetheless, it has been the goal held for many years, now that it has been met there seems to be a void of sorts, begging the so-called potential, lying dormant in me, to do something with myself; something of worth, something more than satiating my idealized and delusionary understanding of this world.
I suppose this is my attempt to beckon myself, through writing, to finally do what I must, in order to be a better person; to volunteer abroad.
When framed in such a light, I am sure it sounds a tad pretentious, a bit self-deprecating and much on the selfish side.
As I am sure I have said before…I was once told that the ultimate form of selfishness is selflessness; a phrase I cannot ever forget hearing, for it still stings me, irrespective of how long ago it was said.
Ultimately, I suppose both are required, for, if it weren’t for that phrase once said to me, the debilitating poison in my ear, there might be a lessened passion to my drive.
All the same, I no longer believe that, however, now for different reasons than before; for more valid reasons.
It may make me feel like a better person to help other people, however, should I deny those in need out of the fear of selfishness?! Which is more selfish: to sit and constantly spew self-righteous views in an attempt to make others think…..OR…..to take a risk, leap off the branch and do what I feel is right in order to make a difference in the lives of others, knowing, full well, that though I may receive something in return (spiritual enlightenment, humanity etc.) that I provided something of equal worth to those in need; composing a symbiotic relationship, unclear in who plays which role, the giver or the recipient.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Google yourself
I am currently in a slight state of shock accompanied by a strange excitement.
I googled myself tonight, not expecting to find much; then again I tend to fall into the most unexpected of circumstances. I wasn’t surprised to find articles I had written for the university paper, published online, however, I was shocked to find a piece I wrote, which mind you was not chosen to be printed, but was published online, without my knowledge.
That’s fine, I understand that if something is submitted there are, at times, blurry ownership issues. Then I found myself on the U-wire, which is a university version of the Associated Press (stories are shared online with all the universities that are subscribed to the service). However, it is good to keep a record of where one has been published.
My next finding was completely unexpected -- I wrote an article, about a year or so ago, about the fact that people need to take credit and fault for their actions; it was in response to a woman who sued a tobacco company for the death of her husband, who was a long-time smoker. I myself am a smoker, but I thought it was as ridiculous as suing McDonalds for “making” you obese after years of eating fast food daily.
Anyhow, some tobacco awareness organization posted my story on their website! I’m pretty sure that’s not legal, there are copyright laws; I don’t mind too much seeing as though my writing is, obviously, being circulated around; irrespective, it is strange!
Here is a list of the web sites I found (some people added an h to the end of my last name, hence the need for two google searches; I didn't include the sites I found on yahoo):
http://www.tobacco.org/news/243003.html
http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P1-132427498.html
http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P1-138922976.html
http://www.chezshaw.com/pastartists/sarahalmulla.html
http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P1-136144349.html
http://www.daily49er.com/home/index.cfm?buttonPushed=1&event=displaySearchResults&q=mulla (list of a few articles is on this one)
http://media.www.daily49er.com/media/storage/paper1042/news/2006/10/04/Opinion/Technology.Harmful.To.Society-2330626.shtml
I thought that since I had a moment, and as I am prone to yammering on endlessly at this time of night, I would share my findings.
Cheers
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Perfume to weaken even the strongest of hearts
I sometimes forget the preternatural power of words, furthermore, yet slightly less fleeting, is the knowledge of that same force in music. The beauty, the grace, the sleight of hand, the movements, motions, thought and heart it takes to create something truly beautiful; something that would render even the most calloused of hearts to tears and emotional anguish.
I found myself reminded of these things by one of the most beautiful films I have seen in the last 6 months. “Perfume: The story of a murderer,” based on a novel by the same title, is morbidly gorgeous in every facet of its being. The plot, the imagery, the score, it is easily, the most beautifully haunting film; on par with “Edward Scissorhands,” though, dare I say, thankfully lacking the 1970s kitsch.
From costume to set design, acting to dialogue, I find this film truly flawless. You are free to disagree if you wish; however, it is an impossibility to convert me at this point. I never thought I would even think this, but even the film’s website exists beautifully. (http://www.perfumemovie.com)
I have not yet read the novel, as I still have a plethora of books I have been trying to get through; however I am anxiously awaiting it in the mail. From what I have read of it, the writing is impressive, the phrasing poetic and the characters, simply human at worst and heartbreaking at best.
A comfortably eerie feeling overwhelms me as I listen to the soundtrack, looking around expecting something to be behind me. I feel moved, maybe a little too far from comfort. There is not much music with such intrinsic power in silence as well as sounds.
If you have not seen this film I recommend you watch it; for there is something magical, beautifully morbid, terrifyingly gorgeous, unsettling along with an unspeakable quality to this film; it should not be passed up.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
When I finally get a customer service rep.
If you know me, this story is not going to seem surprising; if you don’t, stuff like this happens to me often. Occurrences people think would make for a great short story; a brief encounter with a stranger, a conversation being had in sheer loneliness, an end as seemingly short as the experience.
I received an invoice in the mail for my subscription to the Wall Street Journal. I was quite confused seeing as though I had already paid it online. I multitask, as I usually do very poorly, and make my insta-Mac & Cheese in the handy microwave – that machine will kill me long before the cigarettes kick in.
I can hear the random facts and muzak via speaker phone as I set my cell down on the nearby counter; listening intently every time the condescending voice chimes in that I am a valued customer and shall be dealt with as promptly as possible.
My macaroni is ready; I stir in the powdered cheese and breathe in the toxic aroma of the insta-food.
As I leaf through the tabloid magazine on my table, I feel guilty for doing so. However, feel a sense of self-validation in the fact that it was not delivered for me, I am just being nosy for the sake of voyeurism and boredom.
Finally, a man answers my call, muttering something I cannot understand; I was too caught off guard having just taken a bite of piping hot food.
I reply “I am so sorry; I have no idea what you just said.” That was not the response he was expecting, nor was his one I was, his being “blah blah blah, what can I do for you?”
Needless to say I was surprised at his candor, however, more amused than anything else. He repeated his original phrase: “Hi my name is (insert name here) from the Wall Street Journal, what state do you have your newspaper delivered to?”
Now that he was speaking in English, I began to formulate a reply, which seemed to be difficult under the circumstances. I told him “California,” he then says “Oh, that’s why you couldn’t understand a word I said. We New Yorkers hate California.”
“Hey don’t start bag on California,” I say with an unrecognizable defensiveness in my tone and intent. I follow that with “California is great, I think New York is rad, I’ve always wanted to go! What’s so wrong with California?!”
“Nothing,” he says, “I lived there for three years, and I really liked it.”
I’m even more confused than when I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.
I explain my payment dilemma to him; he assures me I’m in the clear, paid for etc. We then start talking about random U.S. cities, what’s nice about them, where he’s lived, what he liked/disliked.
He got a degree in engineering, decided he didn’t like it; got a degree in Mathematics, ended up teaching and is now finishing up his second novel. It’s a Sci-Fi/fantasy novel, supposedly in order to understand it; one must have a good deal of knowledge in physics and calculus.
He yammered on endlessly about scientific wonders, none of which I was familiar with (I don’t think many people are, in my defense). He was surprised I didn’t know some scientific phenomena, seeing as though it has been featured on Star Trek…at which point I had to inform him that I was not an avid viewer (it’s cool and all, just not my thing).
Much of the conversation was a blur; of course except for the part where he gave me directions about how to mock a huge volcanic eruption: supposedly…(put 4 white Mentos in a 2-litre Diet
Coke bottle and run; if you try it before I do, let me know if it works).
Poor man then said “I’m sorry; I’m just a very lonely man.” I, on the other hand, was intrigued to have such off-the-wall dinner company in New York via telephone.
Mid-sentence he changed his tone: “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” So I am assuming that the boss walked in, ready to have his job.
So if you will all do me the pleasure: the next time you have a drink, cheers to the lonely Wall Street Journal man…may he experience great success in his novel and soon escape the tortures of his current position.
Cheers Lonely Wall Street Journal Man!
I received an invoice in the mail for my subscription to the Wall Street Journal. I was quite confused seeing as though I had already paid it online. I multitask, as I usually do very poorly, and make my insta-Mac & Cheese in the handy microwave – that machine will kill me long before the cigarettes kick in.
I can hear the random facts and muzak via speaker phone as I set my cell down on the nearby counter; listening intently every time the condescending voice chimes in that I am a valued customer and shall be dealt with as promptly as possible.
My macaroni is ready; I stir in the powdered cheese and breathe in the toxic aroma of the insta-food.
As I leaf through the tabloid magazine on my table, I feel guilty for doing so. However, feel a sense of self-validation in the fact that it was not delivered for me, I am just being nosy for the sake of voyeurism and boredom.
Finally, a man answers my call, muttering something I cannot understand; I was too caught off guard having just taken a bite of piping hot food.
I reply “I am so sorry; I have no idea what you just said.” That was not the response he was expecting, nor was his one I was, his being “blah blah blah, what can I do for you?”
Needless to say I was surprised at his candor, however, more amused than anything else. He repeated his original phrase: “Hi my name is (insert name here) from the Wall Street Journal, what state do you have your newspaper delivered to?”
Now that he was speaking in English, I began to formulate a reply, which seemed to be difficult under the circumstances. I told him “California,” he then says “Oh, that’s why you couldn’t understand a word I said. We New Yorkers hate California.”
“Hey don’t start bag on California,” I say with an unrecognizable defensiveness in my tone and intent. I follow that with “California is great, I think New York is rad, I’ve always wanted to go! What’s so wrong with California?!”
“Nothing,” he says, “I lived there for three years, and I really liked it.”
I’m even more confused than when I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.
I explain my payment dilemma to him; he assures me I’m in the clear, paid for etc. We then start talking about random U.S. cities, what’s nice about them, where he’s lived, what he liked/disliked.
He got a degree in engineering, decided he didn’t like it; got a degree in Mathematics, ended up teaching and is now finishing up his second novel. It’s a Sci-Fi/fantasy novel, supposedly in order to understand it; one must have a good deal of knowledge in physics and calculus.
He yammered on endlessly about scientific wonders, none of which I was familiar with (I don’t think many people are, in my defense). He was surprised I didn’t know some scientific phenomena, seeing as though it has been featured on Star Trek…at which point I had to inform him that I was not an avid viewer (it’s cool and all, just not my thing).
Much of the conversation was a blur; of course except for the part where he gave me directions about how to mock a huge volcanic eruption: supposedly…(put 4 white Mentos in a 2-litre Diet
Coke bottle and run; if you try it before I do, let me know if it works).
Poor man then said “I’m sorry; I’m just a very lonely man.” I, on the other hand, was intrigued to have such off-the-wall dinner company in New York via telephone.
Mid-sentence he changed his tone: “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” So I am assuming that the boss walked in, ready to have his job.
So if you will all do me the pleasure: the next time you have a drink, cheers to the lonely Wall Street Journal man…may he experience great success in his novel and soon escape the tortures of his current position.
Cheers Lonely Wall Street Journal Man!
Fascinating quote
“He wants the woman he would never be. He wouldn’t be caught dead being her: therefore he wants her. She is his repudiated identification and the object of his desire.”
If you want a context to the above keep reading:
“Becoming a ‘man’ requires repudiating femininity as a precondition for the heterosexualization of sexual desire and its fundamental ambivalence. If a man becomes masculine by repudiating the feminine, where could that repudiation live except in an identification which his heterosexual career seeks to deny? Indeed, the desire for the feminine is marked by that repudiation.”
- From “The Psychic Life of Power” By: Judith Butler
If you want a context to the above keep reading:
“Becoming a ‘man’ requires repudiating femininity as a precondition for the heterosexualization of sexual desire and its fundamental ambivalence. If a man becomes masculine by repudiating the feminine, where could that repudiation live except in an identification which his heterosexual career seeks to deny? Indeed, the desire for the feminine is marked by that repudiation.”
- From “The Psychic Life of Power” By: Judith Butler
Monday, February 4, 2008
Have you ever felt this way?
Sometimes I cannot distinguish the difference between fact and fiction, daydreams and life, for that matter, memories and dreams. At times I am unsure as to whether something has actually happened or if I have fabricated some sort of polyester memory to make myself feel better….or for that matter, worse. Furthermore, the feeling seems to be never-ending.
I have difficulties dealing with people at times because I don’t know where we stand, what I have done or how I will be received.
There is a film called “The Science of Dreams,” a great movie directed by Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). The main character faces these same questions, it is fascinating to watch his life unfold and slowly fall away from underneath him because he lives not fully in reality and not completely in his mind, but in some middle ground, leaving him confused and constantly falling; awaiting to finally hit the ground and know that something truly exists, that there is a true reality and that, in that moment, you know where you are and what is happening to you….whether or not you shall remember it later is another story.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Abstinence vs. Addiction
Abstinence, what a horrible word!!!
If addiction is an extremist state of being, then so is abstinence.
There is a middle ground….may we please recognize that?!!
How treacherous is it that it is programmed within us to lay in one category or the other…There are more than 2 choices, thereby we must break through the boxes in which we feel compelled to be contained by, with the walls dictating a certain set of rules.
There is much I could say on this topic, however, I shall keep myself reigned to my self imposed muzzle. I think more thought would allow it to be better than anything I could write at this particular moment.
Birthday time again...yuck!
It’s birthday time again. Strange, I was going to say that it felt like just yesterday since my last one, but it honestly doesn’t. Confronted by a brief moment of complete blankness, I couldn’t remember my last birthday at all; however, it’s all, at least much of it, has come back to me now. It wasn’t one to remember, reckless debauchery etc…
Much has changed, then again, a lot has sustained within the last year. Strange, I have never began a new year on New Years, nor have I done so on my birthday…but, for some reason, this time around, the latter seems to be appropriate.
I’ve grown to dislike birthdays…well, mine at least. Though I’m young, it is akin to a constant reminder that you’re one year older and most probably in the same place. For some reason, it makes me feel a tad bit trapped. The regular post it on the mirror, reminding you that you are wasting more time than you are taking advantage of. Then again, you do get those nights when you know you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the people you’re supposed to be with….and it’s simply divine, as temporary as it is.
My last semester ironically starts the day before my birthday…what’s next? Hell, you tell me!!!
Maybe I’ll be a drifter for a while, a vagrant of sorts. I think I would feel a little too pointless for my own good, and would end up pan handling for my daily alcohol rations.
Peace corps maybe?....sure sounds like a good idea, something I’ve been running through my mind over the past year and a half…then again, it’s a big commitment and responsibility…I usually don’t do well with those…hence, my resume is laden with short term freelance work.
This is probably just nonsensical rambling, but it’s getting close to the wire here. Of course, the painstaking question everyone is asking is “What’s next?” And I don’t know.
I would like to bank on 12/21/12, but I think that would make me feel even more anxious.
So here’s to a new year, I hope it goes better than the last and I hope the next step is as obvious as a slap in the face….even if it is just that…it would save me some time.
Cheers
Much has changed, then again, a lot has sustained within the last year. Strange, I have never began a new year on New Years, nor have I done so on my birthday…but, for some reason, this time around, the latter seems to be appropriate.
I’ve grown to dislike birthdays…well, mine at least. Though I’m young, it is akin to a constant reminder that you’re one year older and most probably in the same place. For some reason, it makes me feel a tad bit trapped. The regular post it on the mirror, reminding you that you are wasting more time than you are taking advantage of. Then again, you do get those nights when you know you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the people you’re supposed to be with….and it’s simply divine, as temporary as it is.
My last semester ironically starts the day before my birthday…what’s next? Hell, you tell me!!!
Maybe I’ll be a drifter for a while, a vagrant of sorts. I think I would feel a little too pointless for my own good, and would end up pan handling for my daily alcohol rations.
Peace corps maybe?....sure sounds like a good idea, something I’ve been running through my mind over the past year and a half…then again, it’s a big commitment and responsibility…I usually don’t do well with those…hence, my resume is laden with short term freelance work.
This is probably just nonsensical rambling, but it’s getting close to the wire here. Of course, the painstaking question everyone is asking is “What’s next?” And I don’t know.
I would like to bank on 12/21/12, but I think that would make me feel even more anxious.
So here’s to a new year, I hope it goes better than the last and I hope the next step is as obvious as a slap in the face….even if it is just that…it would save me some time.
Cheers
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I Wonder:
I wonder....
Why is it that everything breaks down all at the same time? (my computer, car and water pipes in my house all took a shit on me).
Why is it that there is a season for everything....even if it's people coming into your life...they arrive in a tidal wave?! (random people resurface all at the most inconvenient of times...even if it were a day too late).
Why is it that believing in something makes you act out in the opposite direction? (the fear of accountability....that's all I can say about that).
Why do we never feel comfortable and enjoy where we are, and always yearn for where we would like to be? (we need to feel like there's a goal, something else out there....but when is enough?)
Why is it that when we find comfort in people do we look for others to mix things up? (we might get used to people and love their company, but enjoying those who are complete opposites are just, if not more, fun).
Why do I feel so safe in the solitude of darkness, yet fear it when I'm sober? (no idea on this one...yes I do, I'm lying...I'm a deeply paranoid, and at times neurotic, person...that should speak for itself).
Why is everything that is new so exciting, yet they end up making you so nervous that you lock up? (because you don't want to mess anything up?)
Why? I just want to know why things are the way they are....nothing ever happens at the appropriate time, nothing is ever placed where they would best lay. There is always a problem with something, nothing ever just runs smoothly, I suppose if it did, it wouldn't be life...but why does it have to be so up and down?
I just don't understand why everything can't be good, peaceful, happy and copacetic!!! Maybe, if it were, then people wouldn't question life...then again...I suppose...how many people actually do?!
Any insight would be appreciated.
Why is it that everything breaks down all at the same time? (my computer, car and water pipes in my house all took a shit on me).
Why is it that there is a season for everything....even if it's people coming into your life...they arrive in a tidal wave?! (random people resurface all at the most inconvenient of times...even if it were a day too late).
Why is it that believing in something makes you act out in the opposite direction? (the fear of accountability....that's all I can say about that).
Why do we never feel comfortable and enjoy where we are, and always yearn for where we would like to be? (we need to feel like there's a goal, something else out there....but when is enough?)
Why is it that when we find comfort in people do we look for others to mix things up? (we might get used to people and love their company, but enjoying those who are complete opposites are just, if not more, fun).
Why do I feel so safe in the solitude of darkness, yet fear it when I'm sober? (no idea on this one...yes I do, I'm lying...I'm a deeply paranoid, and at times neurotic, person...that should speak for itself).
Why is everything that is new so exciting, yet they end up making you so nervous that you lock up? (because you don't want to mess anything up?)
Why? I just want to know why things are the way they are....nothing ever happens at the appropriate time, nothing is ever placed where they would best lay. There is always a problem with something, nothing ever just runs smoothly, I suppose if it did, it wouldn't be life...but why does it have to be so up and down?
I just don't understand why everything can't be good, peaceful, happy and copacetic!!! Maybe, if it were, then people wouldn't question life...then again...I suppose...how many people actually do?!
Any insight would be appreciated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
