Random Doodles

For my creative project, I will do something related with my artwork because I find that I start to draw (well doodle) only when I’m feeling emotional; I’m either experiencing a profound euphoria or I’m in a despair state of mind where everything around me is depressing, and the only outlet I feel I have to express what I’m feeling is through art. However, I find that I mostly tend to doodle when I’m feeling sad. When I’m feeling sad, I’m inclined to take out my watercolors and begin to let my imagination run wild without putting any restrictions on my conscious.  When I feel I have to express something internal that I cannot describe with words, painting is a way to express what in other words feels wordless in my life because I give meaning to what is internally bugging me. I don’t think about what I am going to doodle. I just take the paintbrush in my hand and begin to draw random lines on the paper. The paintbrush in my hand begins to move in whatever direction it likes and I allow it. I often feel mindless when I’m drawing because I don’t think of nothing; I don’t think of what color I’m going to select next when painting or what shape to draw.

I have noticed when I try to think about what to draw, I find myself feeling like I can’t draw, or I feel like I’m trying too hard to paint something. It’s easier to just not think of anything and allow my conscious to express itself freely and without restrictions because when I allow my conscious to be free like the wind, the drawings (doodles) I end up with impress me. The paintings are nothing rational that anyone looking at can make sense of, but the paintings speak to me; they often make sense to me. The paintings take on their own form and the message I often receive by looking at them is rebirth. I don’t know why, but rebirth is what often pops in my head when I look at the finished painting. Weird.

I find that when I draw, I have to use a lot of bright colors. The colors I draw/paint with are mostly all shades of blues, greens, yellows, purples, etc… I have noticed that I tend to avoid using the colors red and black in my paintings. I have not figured out why I do that, but I’m hoping to discover the reason for it before my presentation day. The color I’m mostly drawn to using is blue. The color blue reminds me of the ocean, which happens to be one of my favorite places to visit whenever I’m feeling “blue.”  In other words, the color blue has a significant meaning in my life because it signifies the deep void inside of my chest that is profound like the ocean. I tend to want to express what I feel is lacking in my life? I don’t know.

I will be analyzing and interpreting the paintings I have drawn and kept over the years to discover the hidden message or messages my subconscious has been trying to tell me before my presentation day. 

What could be more important?

I believe the reason why many people accept a job duty they do not like is because they feel they have no choice. Speaking for myself, I accept a job duty I don’t like because I, too, feel like I have no choice. If I ignore what I am told to do I’m fired, and if I suck it up and do what I’m told, I keep my job. However, I would argue that it all depends on the duty I’m asked to accomplish that determines whether or not I do what I am told to do because if the duty goes against my own personal morals, I quit before I get fired. For example, I quit my job at SFO (San Francisco International Airport) as a customer service agent for an airline a few years back because I could not deal with two things: the late hours and the toll working late hours had on my body and mind.

           

When I was hired to work at SFO, my boss told me my schedule would be from 5pm or maybe 7pm (it all depended on the flight schedules) till about 2am. I took the job because I wanted to work for an airline and also because the work schedule fit with my busy school schedule. At first it was wonderful working at SFO. My coworkers were all very friendly and helpful; they made me feel welcome and comfortable. I didn’t mine working the late hours because I was getting paid. I was getting paid overtime to help rebook angry passengers all morning after a flight was cancelled. Though I have to admit, rebooking angry passengers SUCKED BIG TIME! But I had to do it because if I didn’t I was fired. However, I did not mine having to stay long hours when it was on a Friday or Saturday morning because I had nothing to do the following day, except maybe homework.

Eventually working long hours started to annoy me because I did not want to stay all morning long, especially Monday mornings. Working late hours and going to school on Mondays were the worse for me because I was practically a walking zombie. I attended school four days a week: Monday through Thursday. I had class on Mondays from 10am till 6pm, and by the time I got home on Monday in the evening, I was practically dead. At school I had the hardest time fighting the urge of wanting to fall asleep in class. My eyelids felt like they each weight a ton; they felt so heavy on my face. Caffeine had no affect on my body; it did absolutely nothing to keep me focus. I could drink two cups of coffee, one after the other, and feel no affect. In class, I would space out and not absorb any information the professor was lecturing on. Whatever my professor said when in through one ear and right out the other without me even noticing. I dreaded feeling so tired and drained. I mean I had been working since 5pm the day before till 8am the following day, which was 13 hours. Sometimes, however, I could not leave until the morning crew arrived to takeover.

I knew I had to change the lifestyle I was leading because it was affecting my ability to stay sane. Once having to rebook angry passengers into later flights started to become a routine and I was losing too much sleep, and loosing my ability to stay present not just in class but in life, I knew it was time do something about it. As much as I hated having to make the decision to quit my job because I really enjoyed working with my coworkers, I knew I could not handle being a full time student and work 30 hours a week. Yes, the money I received helped me, a college student, live comfortably, but I had to make the decision to quit and keep my sanity and health.  I knew that if I did not stay when asked to stay and rebook angry passengers in other flights, I would be fired. Therefore, I did stay for as long as I could take it. However, I reached my limit of tolerance and I had to make the choice to quit because my education and health were suffering as a consequence of working long hours. I had to set my priorities straight and decided for myself what I valued more.

A selfless Man

In “The Guest”, my favorite character has to be the Arab because although he is accused of killing someone, he comes off as a thoughtful, compassionate human being who would not harm anyone. The Arab had plenty of opportunities to escape when he was in Daru’s custody, but he chose not to. Moreover, the Arab never showed any type of hostility towards Daru once Badulcci left. On the contrary, at first the Arab seemed a bit scared but once Daru asked Balducci to untie the Arabs hands, the Arab understood Daru would not harm him. Daru treated the Arab like a guest in his house even though he was a prisoner, and for this reason the Arab felt gratitude towards Daru. The Arab knew Daru was not the enemy; instead, he was his friend.  Daru hated to be put in that situation where he had to turn the Arab over to the authorities and the Arab understood that. The Arab understood that if Daru did not turn him in, then, Daru could be killed. Therefore when Daru took him to the crossroads and told the Arab he had two choices, one to turn himself in or two to go a different route and be free, the Arab chose the path that would take his liberty to save Daru’s liberty and life. He did something only a man with a selfless heart could do because even I feel that would be difficult for me to accomplish. 

Miscommunication leads to Misunderstanding

In his book, The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm poses the practice of the art of loving requires one to not have a narcissistic orientation, but instead, the practice of the art of loving “…requires the development of humility, objectivity and reason” (111). For Fromm love is more than just a feeling; it requires one to be engaged and actively focused in our relationships with the people we know, people we meet, and with the strangers on the streets. He sees the practice of the art of loving as the Golden Rule, “…to do unto others as you would like them to do unto you” (120). Although practicing the art of loving can be a challenge if one has never learned to be objective, it is, however, important for one to practice objectivity because it allows one to live through life with an open, patient, and humble mind which helps one become a better person.

When I was growing up, it was far easier to avoid a misunderstanding with a friend than to try to fix the problem because it required more work and some emotional talk about how I felt. I was young and had not learned yet that objectivity is a valuable tool to have when caught in a miscommunication with friends. However, as time passed and I began to get older, I realized that I wanted to explain myself when I made a mistake or I did not articulate a fact effectively to a friend, which led to a misunderstanding because of my failure to express myself. Eventually with practice I manage to get the hang of how objectivity worked through trail and error. Once my friends started to hang around after I apologized, I realized being objective paid off. I began to notice this “give-and-take” interaction between the people I could be objective with and their ability to be objective with me.

One experience that stands out where I had to practice objectivity to salvage a friendship happened about two years ago. In my first year at the College of Marin, I met a wonderful interior designer who hired me as her personal assistant. Our relationship as employee and employer eventually blossomed into a friendship. However, our friendship was damaged for a little over a year before we managed to make amends with each other. My incompetence to communicate my working schedule with hers damaged our business and personal relationships. I had failed to let her know that I had received a summons for jury duty the week I started working with her. I failed to mention that there was a possibility that I would be called in to serve on a jury.

We had been working on a project together for about a week, making posters and whatnot, when I had to call her to leave her a message (the day before the projects were due) stating that I had jury duty the next morning. She called me immediately and expressed her disappointment and frustration with me. In my defense, I told her that I did not know I was going to be called in for jury duty and that I had gone the whole week calling in for jury duty that I figured on my last day of jury duty, which was on a Friday, I was not going to be summons. I had, for the record, never been summons for jury duty, so I had no idea how jury selection worked.

In the end, I managed to understand how frustrating and difficult it had to have been for her to manage all the workload on her own. I know I failed to be responsible in communicating my potential inability to work for her that week. She was very upset with me and even threatened to not pay me. But I kept my cool and gave her time to cool off. I apologized a handful of times to her and at first she was not receptive, but then after time had gone by, she slowly but surely came around and eventually paid me and warmed up to me again. I have to say that over the summer we finally started to hang out again…few! 

Music as a Mode of Life

Let me just start by saying that Music is too abstract for the human mind to even begin to verbally describe the cause and effect music has on one’s persona. I find that Music is a linguistic that only my soul understands and is able to communicate back through body movement, which we call dance. However, my soul sometimes communicates with music through silence. Therefore, I find Music to be subjective to every soul's interpretation.

                       

            Alan Watts explained that we must not forget to dance our way through life. His video explains that our lives are full of distractions where one pursues material gains because we are under the impression material things will bring us happiness and fulfillment, but that’s not what life is about. He explained that if we live our life only pursing meaningless work, we’ll wake up one day and realize that we’re empty. This is why I choose to live my life as a musical song surrounded by art. I perceive my world to be like Music, inexplicable but yet fulfilling and rewarding to one's heart, mind, soul, and spirit. Although I can’t verbally explain the mysteriousness of Music and its effects on my persona, I know that Music is life and transcends verbal language. I must take the time to allow Music to influence my soul in order to live a more fulfilling life.

            The Music in my world that quenches my thirst for adventure and fulfillment is Cuban Salsa Music. One of my favorite Cuban Salsa songs is called “La Rebelion” by Joe Arroyo. “La Rebelion” tells the story of Africans who were brought to Cartagena, Spain in the 1600s and enslaved. The lyrics of the song speak of the perpetual enslavement and the constant mistreatment the Africans had to endure by the Spanish slaveholders. More specifically, the song conveys the story of how an African man is led to take matters into his own hands and rebel against his slaveholder after his wife is beaten. The husband is forced to rebel against the slaveholder and take vengeance in the name of their love because his soul bursts with anger every time his wife is beat. The song points out that even today one can hear through the iron doors the words of the African husband saying, “No le pegue a mi negra… Oye, esa negra se me respeta” (don’t beat my black woman… hey, you must respect her).

            I like this song for many reasons. One reason is because it speaks of breaking free from the fetters of the status quo. The African husband can no longer bear the abuse committed against his wife, so he is forced to take justice into his own hands, since no one else will, and make the slaveholder pay for what he has done. The husband stands up for what he loves and defends his wife with his life if need be. In other words, he fights back and does not play into what society has allowed. This is how I view my life, if I don’t agree with a particular path society has made, I make my own.

            Another reason I like this song is for its ability to captivate my soul. As soon as I hear the music, I become transported into a different dimension. It’s like I’m in a different world all together where nothing matters except for how my soul chooses to communicate my inner emotions through dance. Salsa Music is a language that only my soul understands because when I hear it I become captivated by its infectious rhythms. I love the sound of the piano, trumpets, drums, and so forth playing together. To me, Cuban Salsa music is infectious, especially this song!

            The most important reason why I love “La Rebelion” by Joe Arroyo is for its ability to unite two bodies and allow their souls to communicate with one another through dance. When I dance with a partner to this song, the body language we produce while dancing to “La Rebelion” is dynamic, intense, but yet subtle. The rhythm of this song is fast pace, but it also slows down, which is how life is. Life is fast pace, but it also has its moments where it slows down and one is able to see things more calmly. In this case, when the song slows down, it allows me to catch my breath to prepare myself for more intense movement, once the Music speeds up. I'm able to let loose and allow my partner to lead the conversation, as his poetry begins to woo my soul. 

Lyrics for "La Rebelion" by Joe Arroyo:

Quiero contarle mi hermano un pedacito de la historia negra, de la

historia nuestra, caballero

Y dice asi:

Uhh!

Dice!

En los anos mil seiscientos, cuando el tirano mando

las calles de Cartagena, aquella historia vivio.

Cuando alli llegaban esos negreros, africanos en cadenas

besaban mi tierra, esclavitud perpetua

Esclavitud perpetua

Esclavitud perpetua

Que lo diga salome y que te de llego, llego, llego

Un matrimonio africano, esclavos de

un espanol, el les daba muy mal trato

y a su negra le pego

Y fue alli, se revelo el negro guapo, tomo

venganza por su amor y aun se escucha

en la verja, no le pegue a mi negra

No le pegue a la negra

No le pegue a la negra

Oye man!!

No le pegue a la negra

no le pegue a la negra

no, no, no ,no, no, no,

no, no, no, no, no, no

(varias veces)

Oye esa negra se me respeta

Ehh, que aun se escucha, se escucha en la verja,

no, no, no, no, no

no, no, no, no, no

no, no, no, no, no le pegue a la negra

Negra que me dice..

No le pegue a la negra

no le pegue a la negra

no le pegue a la negra

no le pegue

Y con ustedes... chelito de casa

Vamos a ver que le pegue a jeva

porque el alma, que el alma, que el alma

que el alma, que el alma se me revienta

Ehh, no, no, no, no, no, no le pegue a mi negra

porque el alma se me agita mi prieta

El Chombo lo sabe

y tu tambien

no le pegue a la negra

Click on this link to view the video and hear the song!

Scattered Thoughts

 As I listen to Building Steam With a Grain of Salt in my room with my eyes closed, the beginning of the song reminds me of a ticking clock, as if time was running out. But as the song continues to play, I hear a voice in my head telling me to move forward and reach out. The piano playing makes me feel as if I was inside of a dream in which I’m walking towards the light. I see it; it’s there, but as I try to hold it, it begins to fade away. All the while, I can’t make out what I’m reaching out for. I just know that I’m walking and sometimes running trying to reach it so that I can embrace it, as if I was trying to fill a void in my chest.

The spoken words part of the song makes me reflect on what I want to perfect in my life. I think of all my emotions and feelings inside of me that I wish I could describe with words and make a poem out of them and give to all my loved ones, as a token of my affection and disappointments. I wish I could perfect what feeling courageous is like.

I also think of a number of skills I want to perfect in my life such as my painting skills, cooking skills, writing skills, etc…

 I want to work on my laugh so that it can become an infectious laugh, and on my joke telling abilities.

I want to allow and give myself permission to trust those around me because I feel that time is running out. I would hate to go one day into the great beyond and leave the people behind me feeling as if they felt I did not love them. 

With Hardship Comes Appreciation

            In the movie “Groundhog Day”, Phil, a self-centered individual finds himself reliving the same day over and over again. He is trapped in what seems to be a never-ending spiral. He eventually escapes from living the same day over and over, but he must first become enlighten. What this movie tells me about the path towards enlightenment is that it is a hard one to travel through, and the transition from a self-centered individual to a more compassionate, empathetic individual can be difficult to endure.

             

            The path towards enlightenment is never an easy one. We must become broken before we can become empathetic towards the ones around us. Life has a very interesting and peculiar way of showing us the path towards enlightenment. I find that the path towards enlightenment is a thorny one that stings and, more often than not, cuts you. We must bleed a lot before we can heal and value life; we learn to appreciate life because we treasure the good moments.

            When we escape, our torments, doubts, insecurities, selfishness, etc… we learn that life has two faces, a pretty one and an ugly one. We learn that there are things that we can control while there are others we can’t. We learn that death is a natural part of life, and one day we, too, will die. We learn that all the people around us have a story; some people have better ones than others, and we are all unique in our own way.

            We become humble, not by choice, but because life has made it its personal business to makes us humble. Often, we have no choice but to feel thankful and grateful that the storm and turbulence in our life has passed. We learn to value the peace and tranquility because we know how ugly it can be. The best part about being enlighten is that we learn that the hard moments in our life will soon pass; consequently, we become strong and are not easily broken. 

The Truth about what I did not believe in...

Plato’s Cave reminds me of my own cave. I am trapped in my own mind, and trying to make sense of what is real and make-believe is sometimes difficult to sort out. My mind is constantly coming under attack by the external world. I am constantly bombarded by rules, policies, morals, ethics, customs, traditions, and so forth that tell me how I should behave, what I should believe in, and more importantly, distract me from discovering the truth. What truth you may ask? Well, I have no answer because I have yet to discover it, but what I do know is that if I don’t feel right about it, then maybe it's wrong.

            In my first blog, I wrote about detaching from the Catholic Church because of different beliefs. I explained that I must stay true to myself and not be part of something that I do not believe in. The decision to leave the Catholic Church was not an easy one. I had been contemplating whether or not to leave the church for sometime, but I was always afraid to do so because I felt scared to face what is outside of what I have always known. I was afraid to leave (what Plato would call my "Cave"), and then find out that I had made a mistake. Why I felt like this I do not know. All I knew at the time of my decision was that I had had enough.

            Religion, in a sense, had turned into a tradition in my life, something to do on Sunday with my family and not question it. I had been brought up to believe that if I did not attend Mass on Sunday, God would be upset with me. In addition, I was raised to believe that if I did something bad, whether morally, ethically, culturally, etc… and I did not confess it to a priest, who through the power vested in him by god can absolve me from my sins, when I die, I will go to hell. Through out my childhood and teenage years, I believed everything I was raised to believe and not question it.

            I don’t fully understand what precisely triggered my decision to leave the Catholic Church, but when I begin to dig into my memory disk, I think of events that occurred sporadically that contributed to my decision to detach from the Catholic Church. One event that led to my decision to leave the church happened when I was 14 years old. I had been an altar girl for a year when a new priest was assigned to replace the old one. This new priest had a different view of what an altar helper should look like. To make the story short, I was not allowed to be an altar girl anymore because I was not a boy. The explanation I received was that God had only apostles, who were all men, and not women; therefore, only boys were allowed to be altar helpers.            

            Another event that occurred that contributed to my decision to leave the Catholic Church was during a Eucharist celebration, a new song was introduced for the congregation to sing along to that I did not like one bit. The song talked about women and how impure they are when they are on their periods. The song continued by emphasizing that anything a woman touched while on her period was impure. I was furious and felt so hurt and disappointed by this song. But what upset me the most was not the song and its oppressive lyrics, but how young girls sang along without even questioning it, as if the lyrics of the song spoke only of truth.

            After Eucharist was over, I went home and vented to my parents about this song, especially to my mother. I told them that I had had enough and I no longer wanted to be part of it. I told them that I had been raised by them to believe that women are strong, powerful, beautiful and equal to men, though sometimes treated unfairly by others who feel superior. But that in the end, we are all sons and daughters of God and he loves us equally without exceptions. My parents told me that the decision to attend Mass was up to me, and up to me only; consequently, I decided to detach, and I have not attended since I left.

Two Quotes and My Sister's Haircut

Among the list of truth quotes, the three quotes I selected were easy to decide on for this assignment because I was immediately drawn to them.

The first quote I selected takes me back in history to the time when I made the decision to detach myself from the Catholic Church because of personal beliefs. My moral beliefs, in some respects, clash with the church’s beliefs. Therefore, I could not allow myself to be part of a community that holds different moral beliefs than my own. I must stay true to myself just as Abraham Lincoln once said, “I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed but I am bound to live the best life that I have. I must stand with anybody that stands right and part from him when he goes wrong.”  Even though I was raised in the Catholic Church, and find many things about the Catholic Church to be wonderful, I could no longer be part of it because of belief differences; it was just not made for me. 

Deciding on the second quote was easy because it, too, takes me back to the time when my sister had gotten a new haircut and it looked horrendous. She looked as if something had crawled in her hair and died. Her friend had cut her hair for free and from the looks of it, her friend had no prior experience in haircutting. When my sister asked how the new haircut looked, I said, “fine” but I lied. Her haircut was not fine, and as soon as my brothers saw my sister, they started to make fun of her haircut. I could not help but laugh. I know my sister felt embarrassed. I should have just said it was not the most flattering look and she should seriously consider getting the haircut “adjusted” as soon as possible before anybody else sees her because as Robert Louis Stevenson once said, “The truth that is suppressed by friends is the readiest weapon of the enemy.” And man is that true!

The last quote I selected remains me of the saying “Thirds the charm,” meaning that if something is meant to be yours on the third try it should come true. This saying I find is relevant to what Lewis Carroll once said, “What I tell you three times is true.” I think Carroll's quote is relevant to the saying because the meanings are similar and because the number three is said in both. Sometimes I find myself throwing paper balls in the air with two options—one written in each paper ball. I toss them in the air and catch only one of them, and if I catch the same paper ball three times in a row then it’s meant to be.