Lost in the Middle East

It's been a while since my last post. I guess it's been a struggle to find inspiration to write until this point. I have realized, however, that putting oneself in uncomfortable and unusual situations breed a distinct need to express the emotions that follow such predicaments.
In the last two months I have been documenting the struggle and perseverance of people. Particularly two women who, with their groundbreaking radio program, voice the problems facing the people of an impoverish area in Jordan (a country in the Middle East, for any of you wondering). In following these women and meeting the people who they represent, I am overcome with a variety of emotions, but all driven by one question:why? Why is it that these people (along with millions of others all over the world) have to live in a constant state of struggle? Why is it that these "minorities," or majorities in actuality, are, and forgive the blatant metaphor, screaming for help with no one to answer their cries? How do we live our lives on a daily basis and push aside these blatant facts? Not to say that my endeavors here are strictly altruistic--quite the opposite. I came here to make a film about two women and their story in hopes of achieving some level of personal success. But you can never plan for anything and, as it goes, the film has turned into a socio-political saga of these two women and what they are doing to help people in need. As a result, the film has become a vessel to expose and educated the world on the problems facing these people and the countless others who are facing similar problems.
Is it simply a western-centric mentality to "go to the 3rd world and help the people!"? Are we really helping anyone? Will this film make any difference? I can only hope that I will shed some needed light on the pain and suffering of these people...people who have grabbed my hand, looking into my eyes and pleading for us, America, to help them. How do you not feel like you're exploiting people who are living under such depressing circumstances by capturing their situation on film? It's ironic, really, when children want so desperately to be in a photograph and line themselves up in front of a backdrop that so precisely shows the state of their lives. There are clear moral and ethical dilemmas here but, I hope, these dilemmas will be remedied by good intentions--by shifting the focus of this film from us, the filmmakers, to them, the people.

DoneZo

I don't know whether I stopped writing here because I had nothing left to say or if I thought blogs should be a bit less exclusive, a bit less narcissistic. You know, maybe I should write about vegan recipes or books or music or celebrities. Vegan food sucks, though, etc.

The last few month have been pretty surreal--a hodgepodge of hellos and goodbyes and various sentiments or lack thereof and all without balance. Extremity; that which I thrive on. I went from being busy every day, going to school and having a productive life to graduating college, moving back home after almost 3 years and watching videos of amazing animals and babies singing and dancing on YouTube. I mean, I guess that's a bit unfair and self deprecating. Everything is so anticlimactic these days. It's like nothing can penetrate my jaded, "extreme lows" self. The language used and the seemingly sexual overtone of those last two sentences is pure coincidence, I assure you. I guess it's difficult to work hard and stay focused and do it all for by yourself and for yourself. Why can't we just help ourselves?

(Elapsed time between paragraphs: approx. 12 minutes.)

The Self:
I'm sick of self destruction being accepted as something that we "just do to ourselves." It's a direct result of our privileged lives that we are even able to treat ourselves badly and make a decision between one shitty choice or another, ultimately being decided by which one would make a more outrageous Facebook status update. It's all talk and no action and I am slowly becoming a victim of this monotony or, maybe not a victim but a perpetrator? When everything is overrated and life is a series of events that we can barely RSVP to, one must ask ones self-- is this the way I planned it? I don't like that metaphor but whatever.

The Other:
What are we supposed to do with other people? I feel like we're all delusional and want/expect/create a world that is just bearable and livable for ourselves. If you happen to fit into whatever the current climate of a certain someones world at that moment in time you manage to be lucky enough to touch down on some serious and meaningful interaction (or so they say and thank you for). But the question is simple yet important: are these interactions really meaningful? Is it love or anger or happiness or pain or is it just an attempt to interpret what those emotions would really be/feel like had the catalyst for them been something more than just someone/something to pass the time? We're stuck with certain people and certain scenarios because we don't want to live in our own world alone. We start to sacrifice. We need to distract and consequently save ourselves from the things we know we should do with our lives, friends, hearts, family, bodies, et cetera. Otherwise how would we be self destructive?

Next time: My recipe for vegan pineapple upside down pants cake.

I'll Never Take You Out Dancing

It's pointless the worry about things out of your control. These "things" to b controlled can be anything from things that have nothing to do with you or things that are in the future that you have no means of understanding without abstractions. 

The importance of living in the moment.

This is it.. the here and now. 

I think the problem with actually acting on this advice stems from the cliches of "living in the moment". There's some kind of negative connotation that has attached itself to the concept and it's imperative that we dismiss any preconceptions and just "be". 

Don't take things personally. 

Live in the moment. 

It's not you, it's them. 

These are all things that have been said before but when actually scrutinized they are the essence to maintaining a happy demeanor. Anything can make you smile or cry or make you feel angry from one moment to the next. Embrace it. Embrace the hectic-ness and the messiness and the fear and the pain. Happiness comes along with it. And isn't happiness only possible because of the sadness, or madness or apathy? It's not as trite as "you feel sad so you can distinguish between happiness and sadness". I think that we would be able to differentiate regardless. I think it's just the essence of every emotion, every fleeting thought or feeling that adds to the notion of what makes us happy. 

I need to learn how to let it go. 

In Dreams

I think there's something rather ironic about my inability to differentiate between dreams and reality. It facilitates this dreamlike quality to manifest itself throughout my life through different people, experiences, places and times.

Sometimes I'm awake and couldn't feel more like I am living in a dreamless night. In dreams I sometimes feel more emotion than I allow for reality. Maybe this is why I am plagued at times by nightmares, dreams of suffocation and loss, etc etc etc.

I suppose this is relevant because I have had a few dream-like experiences in real life over the last few months that eventually lead to my questioning what exactly was even real about the people, places and events. It instills this sense of an ever present nostalgia for something that I can't quite put my finger on. I guess nostalgia is rather vague in and of itself, anyway.

It's almost like I am so bored with real life that I dream to escape that boredom that I cannot control. I also try to create and facilitate any and every situation that might be (in any way) an exciting prospect. I enjoy the teeth pulling awkwardness of the night, day, week, month after and create fantasies about said events until what was real is a memory almost as vague and blurry as a dream. It all seems rather circular and contradictory in nature. 

But things are good. They have to be. 

Where Are You John Cusack?

It's been a short while or maybe a long while. Hopefully anyone who actually reads this thinks that it's out of commission. 

As this February 14th approaches I think fondly to my last February 14. I saw a film about a girl who had vagina dentata. I was happy wandering the streets of the city alone, watching men nervously striding towards a busy street corner with roses in their hands while the women looked starry eyed as if thinking to themselves, "I'm so lucky". 

I think that a vagina with teeth is much luckier. 

I need to remember to externalize 

 stay healthy

 not fall into the trap

 live in the moment

 etc

 etc

I don't really know what's fun anymore. I know I only enjoy meaningful exchanges with interesting people. I know I act out when I am frustrated and don't know how to just feel okay about my boredom. 

What are you supposed to do when you're legitimately bored with everything?

The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once

October is a funny month. I wonder what happened to September and find myself at the end of October terrified that another year is passing and I cannot recall exactly where the time went. I suppose saying something like "where did the time go" is somewhat redundant in the general sense because it's not going anywhere it hasn't been before. I can't help but feel this overwhelming sense of running out of time. Not my life, or my possibility, but just time wasted and experiences lost in the midst of it. I keep telling myself I'll be more productive and use my time wisely and "starting tomorrow" bla bla bla. 

I guess I will start tomorrow. I have no other option, really. 

I have also decided to stop drinking and smoking. I can't handle it anymore. I was thinking about it and realized that I had drank every day for the last... while. I have been waking up sickly and not being able to leave my bed for the majority of the day, that is, until I go out again. I feel like I have only seen this city at night for the last couple of months and by city i mean the likeness of a bar or bottle. 

I guess in a sense time is running out. It's starting to get cold in New York and any day I could spend enjoying Fall I am sitting in my room. 

This too will change starting tomorrow. 

Maybe Sundays are lonely. 

It's Monday in ten minutes. 

Oh, The People You'll meet.

I spent the weekend in Charlottesville, Virginia with the intent of helping the Obama campaign and hopefully registering people to vote. I would not consider myself to be naive in my knowledge of popular opinion in the greater United States, but I must admit that I was rather shocked at the response we Obamians received at the hands of McCain-Palin supporters. 

This political game is far from over but in its last few minutes.  I must apologize for my sports metaphor. Perhaps it's inspired by the University of Virginia's MASSIVE football game which happened on Saturday in which people gathered in the parking lot, tailgating and conversing about various pressing issues. 

In wandering around passing out Obama stickers and asking people if they were registered to vote, we were greeted with both praise for helping the cause as well as with vomit sounds, shouting and, my personal favorite, "Palin Power!!". 

It would be ignorant to believe that people would say anything but "politics?? on game night??" (which they did), but I suppose I was under the impression that politics was something to be debated and considered from different angles, only to find people supporting ideas which they backed with little to no information. None of these supporters could say why they supported any of the candidates. None of them had any passion beyond superficiality. But it was alright, because the next day we would be going to the streets and hitting neighborhoods with people who would inevitably join our cause. 

Of course the feedback was mixed. But I came to the realization that there is a more important issue at hand. People are, of course, losing homes (though not just because of our economic crisis, we must remember that these losses were occurring prior in certain middle to low income brackets) and fighting wars on the street which are incomparable to the current political game being played. Politicians are still not talking to these people. No one is addressing the conflicts that so many Americans face on a daily basis, whether is be violence, crime, drugs, poverty, homelessness, etc. How can these people be active in an election that speaks a different language? This is not to say that people are unable to be interested, but it is more so a commentary and question about how they are expected to feel a part of a greater goal that does not pertain to majority of their lives. 

All in all, my friend and I were successful in registering people to vote. We also left with an enriching and exciting experience. 

I would call it a success on many levels.

Next stop: Pennsylvania on the weekend before the election. 

Hang on to your hats, folks.

What Do You Mean, Sir?

It's an obvious trend: We do things that we know promote our unhappiness. We refuse to remove ourselves from our self absorbed, unnecessary, privilige driven deteriorative ruts. It isn't enough to know what the problem is and fix it, instead we know what the problem is and put it on the back burner until we are so dysfunctional that it is unbearable and we break down, almost as though we "didn't see it coming" to be sure to not blame oneself for the demise. 

Balance is key and I am forgetting that I have absolutely no ability to balance my life. If I work one day too many my whole life is thrown off path. If I decide to clean I will clean the whole day until I can't find any time for anything else. 

I suppose it's called perfectionism, but if that was so then I would want that level of perfection for every aspect of my life and thus designate enough time for each activity, obligatory or voluntary. These inconsistencies are a constant bother. 

I suppose with my extra time (and by extra time I mean energy that isn't spent on people and things which have no future) I have time to over contemplate these ideas which are inherently arbitrary. 

I started drawing again and find myself really interested in religious art again. I think it's because it deals with an issue which has been done so many times and with such varying levels of expertise, yet the art still evokes such powerful emotional responses regardless of medium, dimensions, perspective or religious affiliation. 

Remember: Don't take things personally. It is what I say it is. 

All the power will shift. 

Not for all the tea in China

I miss you a lot today.

I just do.

Blase

I wonder sometime what would have happened if I had made different choices... if I had adhered to my mantras.
It's all about separating oneself from the "I" and the "Me".
"I'm humiliated"
"I'm hurt"
"I should have known"
"I'm sad"
"I wanted that"
When in actuality, I just need to shut the fuck up.

I salute you, because the next one is going to be tough. I thought I was cynical about all things "warm" before.
ooohwee.


A weight is lifted from our shoulders and placed on to our hearts.

Wallflower

It's been too long.
All apologies to whoever reads me.

It's been a dark couple of months. I have been in transit for as long as I can remember and all I want is a place to rest my head. I want my books in my room and my records playing and my clothes in a closet and not in a pile in the corner.
I need to do laundry.
I need to take a shower.
I need to be happy.
I need to stay busy.
I need to realize I am right.
I need to stop wanting/waiting/expecting.

It's amazing how sometimes, when the sun hits the street in a certain way, and the crowds part, and for one moment you can really feel peacefulness... everything is perfect.
"In that moment, you're infinite"

You allow yourself to be treated in a way that equates what you think you're worth.
I finally realized I was actually worth more.
I feel happy.

You shouldn't feel lonely around another person.

"You're a tall woman, and most can't be as tall" - I think he meant it figuratively speaking... but also literally.

I don't need a song for you to like me a little.

Goodnight Piano

It's like they always say.

I communicated some issues I was having to certain people in my life and an instant change was made.
I need to talk to you.


"This just isn't working out"

And, I am okay with that. I am excited for it. I get to meet "you" and do it all over again. I get to be unsure and unhappy and smiling and excited and dizzy...

You make me dizzy.

OOps

I wish I had never met you.
I wish nothing ever happened.

You told me this would happen and I refused to believe that I wasn't enough.

I am slowly turning into someone I hate and it will become the blind leading the blind.
I can't be like you; hating the prison I am confined to.

And the craziest part is that I was actually okay with it being like that.
I'm like a fucking masochist or something.
We all are, I suppose.
We do it to ourselves.
Your plague is contagious and I can't mistake pain for pleasure anymore.

You're amazing!

I am stuck in this place between being welcoming of responsibility and obligation and then terrifying myself once I have it. I either have too much or not enough to worry about.
I think I need a vacation.

Financial constraints have to be the some of most suffocating barriers to overcome. I feel as though I am entitled to have certain things when in actuality I have done nothing to deserve them. It's a paradox in and of itself because I actually have nothing to complain about.

remember: everywhere you go, it's the same blue sky.
The concept I discovered which taunts me every single day.

I am sick of school.
I am sick of being told what to do and how to do it and why and when and for how long.

I'm in a place where I have once again become dependent on something which is dictating my happiness. I have become weak and pathetic.

What is it that is fulfilling? Do I have any interests, or interesting things to say, or interesting people to say things to?

I cringe thinking about next semester and taking 5 classes 2 days a week in hopes of actually doing well, as opposed to the reality of my inevitable meltdown.
And if you go wrong or change, I'll be done for.

I got 2 kittens a couple of days ago. Just watching them gives me so much happiness.
They rely on me. Are they already an obligation?
(As I wrote that my kitten Books came over and sat on my shoulder, as if to assure me it's not the case)

You need to get out of my head.

Everyone needs to be honest again.

Time Flies

It's been just about a month since my last post. I suppose the delay in updates can be attributed to my overall lack of inspiration in Los Angeles as well as the hectic-ness of packing up my whole life in boxes to ship back to New York.
I am currently in the process of finding a place of my own to live and being a pretty good sport about living out of a suitcase.

The city is humid and mucky and rainy and hot. It's perplexing to me how this city can be so extreme in regards to its weather... although it's pretty extreme in the general sense also.

Aside from being slightly malnourished and rather wilted from the effects of the sweltering heat, I am ecstatic to be back here. It's a bit quieter than I remember but that's most likely because I am either busier or less busy than before... I can't put my finger on which one it is.

I want to thank Acat for asking what the reason for my delay in writing was.
Thank you and there will be more to come.

Food for Thought

I saw a segment about the "Pregnant Man" on the news today and I couldn't help but be somewhat confused. I guess this would be considered "old news" but he is getting ready to give birth so I guess it's rather relevant. 

To anyone who is unfamiliar with this scenario, it goes like this: A woman goes through almost all of the steps of sexual reassignment surgery except for changing her reproductive organs. She/he then meets a woman and they decide to have a child. But, as opposed to biologically female of the two becoming impregnated, the transgendered one of the pair decides to have his wife impregnate him with a syringe of some sort. 

Essentially, he is not a pregnant man, but a woman who claims to not be able to identify with any characteristics of the female sex and/or gender, except for one of the most defining roles a woman is capable of pursuing? It seems rather strange that he doesn't feel "female" enough to go through life resembling a woman but is able to identify to the point that he can carry a child?

It just strikes me as rather odd. He claims that it is a human right to have children and not a biologically female right, but if that was the case, men would be able to have children biologically, just as women do. 

I am not one to argue against gender being a blurry concept up for much interpretation but biology and science are fundamentally concrete and I don't think that can be argued. 

Amoeba Pick-Up Lines

"So, how many crates do you have?"

... apparently if you're in the vinyl section of Amoeba there is like, a slang imperative to striking up a conversation.I guess I understood what he meant; people usually keep their vinyl in crates -----> how many crates are you on = how much vinyl do YOU have. 

Just another really awesome conversation. 

He then asked me who Patsy Cline was.  

I bought some awesome records though:

Elton John!!

Neil Young

Sergio Mendez 

etc..

I now need to either ship or pack all my records to get them to New york. I just have this irrational fear of packing/shipping anything I care about. 95% of the time I am convinced that they're going to be sucked into some black hole. Irrational... 

Why isn't everyone as cool as these people? The tambourine player is balancing on a rail and the men are wearing suits... I miss men in suits. 

Back by Popular Demand

I thought that my hiatus would go unnoticed but apparently that's not the case.

I have been ordered by a friend to post again.

It feels good to be back.

I am listening to an old tape of my late uncle who made some really awesome music. It's really progressive in a really cool way.

Last night I went to a staple in the lame-o Hollywood club scene. I apologize to all parties involved, I was misinformed about a cool band playing there when, in fact, a hipster friend to hollywood's young starlets was spinning. This essentially guaranteed a crowd of really dull hipsters who are only out on Tuesday night to pass the time before the BIG EVENT: Moscow on Wednesday nights.

I found myself so bored that I actually had a 5 minute conversation with some "post-hipster" as he called himself (he does graphic design for TARGET) about how he cuts his tank tops. Thankfully he found some chick wearing a fedora that he was more interested in exchanging air with and left, but not before explaining that one must ALWAYS fold the t-shirt in half before one begins cutting.

The most embarrassing part of the whole night is that we were photographed mid conversation by an aspiring photo-blogger.

Ugh.. evidence.

I have also realized that when someone asks me what kind of music I listen to I can't name a band that has come out in the last 5 years. I am slightly out of the loop and don't know if I am willing to make the effort to get back in.

It just seems like music is in a pretty stagnant spot at the moment... although those Mars Volta enthusiasts would beg to differ.

These kids are kinda cool though.

Hiatus

I'm on a short one. 

I'll be back...

All is to be continued. 

Return to Los Angeles

I'm back. It's 100 degrees outside and I can't be bothered to move too much. The effort is just lacking.

I am slightly loosing my morale for blogging.

I can't explicitly say everything that I want to because of the fact that anyone can read this, and I hate being vague.

I am already slipping back into the mindset that I was in when I first moved to New York. There's just too much water under the bridge. I can only try to be understanding but I have no obligation to anything or anyone. It's as if I am not a real person... I am supposed to just take all of the shit that gets handed to me and still be sympathetic? Anyone else in my position would be just as frustrated as I am, if not more.

I don't want to to fight. I am exhausted.

It's not L.A. that I have a problem with. It's the fact that I have changed so much and everything here stays the same. Not the same in the comfortable, familiar sense... but in the claustrophobic, anxious sense.

It's ok though. It's all perfect. I won't feel like this for much longer.

P.S. I can't help but notice how cheesy L.A. is compared to New York.