articles and observations
Below are articles I’ve written. There are more religious/political jargon on my blog under “Politics/Religion”.
Article #1.
It is. Now is when we open our eyes. Now is when we open our mouths. Now is when we question authority. Now is when we open our minds. Now is when we indulge in art. Now is when we throw off our clothes and swim naked in the ocean. Now is the time to be. To live. To find your voice.
Enjoy this entry. It is simple and fragmented and disjointed but hey, that’s art.
Strangers: Life can be a continual cycle of insanity or love or uncertainty or calm. Very rarely is it without chaos. Amidst the chaos though I have been fortunate to witness and be shown the kindness of strangers. A gift I truly believe we all must continue to give. Though I should preface that with saying, if we can walk through this world unafraid of “different” we may in fact open up a world so boundless, all that’s left is to enjoy it. The chaos and the simple gesture of smiling at someone could very well be the thing that turns your day around.
Artists: When you are an artist, or creative, I think it is almost like you’re an entirely different species. We all (artists) have this beautiful way of seeing the world but we also have tremendous darkness. We honestly hurt when we see the hurt in the world. We create in response to that hurt.
Emotion and Truth: Most artist’s are passionate. Always feeling an emotion to their core and to some, this is strange and odd, but to me, it is absolutely breathtaking. I’d always rather see emotion than mask it. But then again, anyone who has been to a museum or turned on a radio or gone to the cinema or looked through a camera lens or seen someone’s body moving to the music or have eaten a meal prepared by a chef is witnessing an artist’s most provoked emotion - truth. No matter how you perceive it, art, really good quality, core awakening art, is someone’s soul just on display. They are giving you a reason to make something beautiful. To do something of worth. To speak up. To fight the system. To ask questions. To open your eyes. An artist creates anything or says anything because to us, if we say nothing we will implode. Literally. Our heart, our soul, our being would shrivel and melt away and all that would be left is an obedient shell and who wants that?!
I create because I cannot survive without doing so. I believe in the beauty in this world. I cry when I turn on the news. I ache when I hear of injustice. I speak out when someone is wronged. I write. I turn off the need for societal restriction and I am true to the things within. We are all quite extraordinary people capable of truly remarkable things. We hide behind sex or vanity or money or acceptance and deny ourselves the essence of who we really are. Perhaps if the world were less concerned with power and greed and being the “center of it all”, something really good might happen. Artists may actually find some common ground with the mainstream world.
Until then, you need artists. We are your conscience. We remind you that nothing is as plain and basic as it appears. We remind you that wars occur because voices are silenced. We remind you that quality is fading because expectations are low. We remind you that we could co-exist and do so flawlessly. We will always be those “people” in life who seem to be misunderstood but in truth, sometimes I think we are the only ones who understand things clearly.
Here is to the creative minds and souls out there who remind us all to be more…
Article #2.
art. the pulse of life.
Artists are the reason there is a pulse in the world.
Life is an invaluable experience. Some would argue, our only experience. I have enjoyed a rather adventurous life . I have been fortunate enough to travel the world, experience other cultures, see all kinds of live music, envelop a plethora of art, eat exquisite food, and above all, meet the most unique and beautiful people - and it blows my mind. If we just open our eyes and our ears and our souls, the world might be surprisingly extraordinary.
Today I had a moment. A moment where I heard someone say 3008 and I thought (one, they are singing Black Eyed Peas) but two, in a thousand years, what WILL this world be like? What happens when generations of people die and hopefully new ones take their place? I cannot simply believe my brief stay here is for nothing; that it’s just some fantastic science experiment to see what our species would do. I also know I do not want to be some faint whisper in history. I want to write things worthy of time. Not intentionally. just somehow - miraculously.
Some people have the gift of not focusing too much on the now. In all honesty, I don’t think that’s much of a gift at all. When you live in a society greedy with the “next quick fix” (that Apple promotes and I buy into: own MacBook, iTouch, iPod, Apple TV, and soon, an iPhone —- damn. I’m a horrible example!), or the notion that god can answer all things AFTER death, I question our species. We forget the fundamental fiber of our beings: to live. LIVE! Remember that “work” will always be there, good people will not. Appreciate the truly magnificent people in your life. If we get too carried away we will miss our lives.
What good is any of it if, in the end, we let everything pass us by? I am a huge dreamer. And an avid entrepreneur. I have no qualms with working or wanting money, I just think we tend to get caught up in the “busy” or the “money” and forget about what really matters. So here is a little reminder (to myself as well): to walk outside, breathe in some air, look around you, call someone you’ve neglected, be good to your friends, appreciate your family, love the ones you love and do it without parameters. In the same breath remember that this is your life. Cut out the people who don’t feed your soul, or love you back, or make time for you, or take from you without returning. I don’t mean we should give expecting but if you give and give and give and it’s from your heart, it’s ok to want someone to be there for you. It doesn’t make you some selfish person if once in a while you need to be able to lean on someone as well.
So that’s that. I’ve seen and experienced beauty but I have also had my fair share of death. Way too much, in fact. And life is all we have. Make yours beautiful and lend some goodness to this world. Don’t suck out all of the oxygen with being “busy” or thinking the world is coming to you. Sometimes you have to reach out - and from experience - it’s when you reach out that the most enriching things come around.
In my opinion, artists are essential to the pulse of life. They allow us to see the world in an infinitely more beautiful way. I am so grateful for the artist’s in my life who remind me every moment to never forget about people or beauty or culture or seeing something no one else is able to see. So the next time you see a photograph or a painting or a film or read a book or a story or see a play or exhibit or go to a concert or listen to a song: remember someone poured out their soul to share that with you. In some form or fashion, when it’s quality, there’s a little blood left behind from the artist who was willing to open up their veins and entrust it to you.
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Article #3.
an observation essay.
Skybar
9:00p.m.
The valet takes my keys and hands me a pink claim ticket. In front of the hotel sit two enormous doors, probably a hundred feet tall a piece with mahogany wood and large bronze handles. Behind them are glass doors, the actual entrance. I glance around and the lobby is full of Hollywood elite. I look to the right, just outside of the entrance and there is the white fence-like gate I was looking for. It looks like a trash bin but when knocked on opens up into a world known only to a select few. Tonight, I was among that group. The gate unlatches and a tall security man dressed all in black asks me for my name. I tell him, “Dawn Garcia. I’m here with a guest to see Glenn —-” and he looks on his list and says, “Come on in and have a great night.” I stroll in with a newly acquired sense of importance and my husband Matt on my arm.
When the door opens up the pathway turns into glamorous splendor. Candles adorn every corner and every wall, mattresses are placed aimlessly about the concrete floor, and everywhere I turn there are faces of strangers. Heat lamps fill every other open space and wooden tables rest politely around the crowd, patiently awaiting an empty glass. A man stands against the wall to my left. He is wearing a dark gray suit with a light periwinkle blue button-down shirt. He is no more than fifty and a handsome fifty at that. His hair is short and looks as though he is in his element. The other two gentlemen with him look slightly less at home. They are in their early thirties and I will assume they are training to be talent agents. I think I recognize the first man. He is the head of an agency called Creative Artist’s Agency (CAA). He looks unbelievably familiar and his cool arrogance leads me to conclude I’m right.
The sound of the crowd is almost like a smooth breeze. It is there filling every empty pocket, conversation is looming in every open mouth. In my mind I watch them and Moonlight Sonata plays in my head. They move with every note and take hits of their cigarettes with each stroke of the black piano keys. Who are these people? I walk around and send my husband off to buy me a drink, a vodka martini, extra dirty with three olives. I feel so very “L.A.”, whatever that means. I walk through the maze of faces and find a vacant corner of a mattress. I lean down and sit as daintily as I can. I do have on a skirt and albeit rock-star like, I’m certainly not apt for playing the part; at least not to that degree.
To my right is a decadent wooden staircase that leads up to what looks to be a creative haven. I get up to check it out. It is jam-packed with people, some of whom I know I know from somewhere but I can’t place them. One I definitely recognize, Jamie Fox; that unnatural hairline is hard to miss. He is wearing a suit with a white jacket, probably Armani. It reminds me a little of Miami Vice. People look around and notice him but no one says a thing to him, with the exception of one very drunk fake blonde. He looks to his entourage of all of two friends (not much of an entourage I’d say) and they shoo her away. His face looks expressionless and sullen. He looks lonely and unapproachable. I wonder if that’s stardom or boredom.
The second celebrity sitting in the corner of the upper bar is Tracey Morgan from SNL. He is sparking up a joint and getting louder by the moment. Clearly he isn’t looking for anonymity tonight. The ladies with him look as if they might have been paid for. The drinks keep coming. The hour passes and eventually he takes his shirt off to everyone’s dismay. YIKES! I hear comments in the background, “Damn, put that back on”, “Use some of that money to buy yourself some class.” I chuckle inside and on perfect cue, up comes my husband with my martini glass and a smile.
10:00pm
Two of my friends arrive, Devon and Barrett. They are dressed to the nines with their hair perfect and their Hollywood smiles, white and glimmering. They fit right in. Devon doesn’t waste a moment and orders himself a drink. Barrett sticks with water. We talk a bit and I point out Tracey Morgan who sadly has only gotten worse. Matt and I tell them about Jamie Fox who has now disappeared. I decide to let Matt finish the story. I watch him as he talks, his facial expressions, his hands, everything. He’s pretty animated when he tells a story. Barrett listens but Devon is off flirting with a guy at the bar. I never did understand their relationship. Barrett has a look of disappointment in his brown eyes as he sips his half-empty glass of water.
I can hear Devon laughing. I look over at him and suddenly see him in a way I never bothered to before. His mannerisms are incredibly overdone. He dresses nicely and is put together but his need for attention and center stage isn’t all that attractive. He is careless with his partner, Barrett. He has been flirting with the random guy at the bar for over an hour now and the drinks have flowed continuously since. I wonder if they had a fight before they got here. They seem distant and clearly, something must have happened if Devon has spent the last two hours away from him, and us for that matter.
Devon gets even louder and begins dancing with every gay man near the bar. I watch every once in a while and he looks rather happy. The other people in this part of the bar seem uncomfortable with the whole thing. That is one thing I’ve never understood, especially in Hollywood. How is it that a city entirely composed of the strangest people in existence has awkwardness about others who are gay? Perhaps it’s just that they don’t understand what homosexuality is and through their own ignorance they create opinions. I suppose that’s true about all prejudice. It is merely ignorance that creates hate and breeds intolerance. I think that’s why I embrace difference. I think it’s beautiful.
1:00a.m.
The night has officially come to an end and now the in between hours have strolled in. The bar is even more crowded than it was when I arrived. Down below, at the bottom of the wooden staircase there are still hordes of people laughing, drinking, and networking. The mattresses are now being utilized, some are lying down, some are sitting Indian-style, others are resting their bodies discreetly on the corner. The candles are the only visible light, although many of them have burned out. The moon has decided to hide behind a patch of clouds and contribute to the allure of the Skybar.
Devon is still embellishing into the night while Barrett patiently sits at the table and sips his third glass of water. Tracey Morgan is still in the corner with his arm candy and bloodshot eyes. His shirt is still off and his belly has become a part of the atmosphere. We all tried to ignore it but after all, he is a comedian and that, by definition means he feels that he can do whatever he wants. Then again, I suppose we all could. Matt’s eyes are revealing signs of exhaustion as a yawn escapes his lips. I can feel my feet pounding from the stilettos and my legs are covered in goose pimples. The temperature has dropped dramatically and it seems this is the end of another night in Hollywood. I take one last trip to the bathroom and on the way am approached by an agent. He wanted to know if I was an actress. I said, “No, I’m a writer” and he responded, “ahh, you’re the brains behind the curtain.” I smiled and he shook my hand. That was that.
I gave Matt my little pink claim ticket, took my shoes off of my aching feet and waited for the valet to bring our car. A few others waited as well, some were young and drunk, some were elegant and wealthy, and others, well they just were. Our white Jetta pulls up, I give the valet a ten and call it a night.
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Article #4.
a political essay.
I wrote this article below, 5 years ago. I had no idea how much this would ring true today. Millions of Americans, hell, millions of people around the world, have no grasp of “fun or joy”. There are wars, political injustice, social hardship, religious infiltration, economic turmoil, failing education, scientific stagnation, and healthcare exploitation. No longer are we able to take vacations or afford luxuries like massages or expensive clothes - in fact, most every person has scaled WAY back. Taking more time to plan because our economic, social, perfect little bubble has indefinitely “burst”. Read the article but remember, there is some truth to the idea that perhaps in some way, Americans have returned to Corporate slavery:
freedom. an idea. a possibility.
To dream or not to dream. Is that really the question? Are Americans really living or are we merely well oiled machines, working hard at jobs we care little about but due to a decent salary, insurance benefits and possible retirement, we do it anyway? With that, we keep running the endless race that inevitably leads to a less fulfilled life, less time with our families, friends and most certainly less time for ourselves. Not very many average Americans can run out for a massage when they want or go on a weekend getaway just on a whim. They are held down by responsibilities, jobs that have little room for personal time. Honestly, how many people can tell you that they are living their dreams? I’ll guarantee you that it is less that fifteen percent of the population and I’m being generous! Somewhere along the lines we gave up on our dreams because we had to get a real job, get married or raise our children. Why should any of those things deter us from satisfying our own spirit? Whatever you believe in as far as who is responsible for this planet, there is one thing for certain: Every single one of us was given the ability to think, to dream, to aspire and to be happy. Why have we so easily forfeited that right? No matter what country any of us are from, no matter how much we need that job, no matter what wars are waged against us every day, no matter how many human rights are destroyed, we still have that choice! There are people telling us we have to think like them, be like them, we have to make as much money as we can. I know that we can’t survive as a people if we have nothing but at what point do we look back and realize that our lives were supposed to be so much more?
Freedom. A mindless pursuit or a brilliant idea? Have you ever thought about the fact that we take a day every year to recognize one of America’s greatest men, Martin Luther King, Jr.? He gave a speech that could have changed the course of humanity but have we even heard him? Do we just listen as the news reminds us of what we were supposed to be living like and then flip the station to Baywatch? Have we forgotten that we are supposed to be living in a country where everyone has equal rights? Or what about the pursuit of happiness? Was that whole speech by Thomas Jefferson just a nice sugar coating for the way Americans idealized life or was it real? What about King’s dream of us living harmoniously together without the ignorance caused by racism? I mean we watch the news as children kill children, people gun down schools because of its religious preference, people still believe that skin color separates us as humans. When are we going to open our eyes? Are we so blind that we feel nothing towards another human being because of their race or religion? When we get hurt, don’t we all bleed the same color blood? The only thing that separates any of us is the fact that we choose to be uneducated and ignorant. Nothing else. Don’t you understand that we can only gain something as people if we could let this kind of ridiculous, stupid, hate go? Color is not black and white or yellow and brown. Color is beauty. How many times have you looked up at a rainbow and said to yourself, “My God, that is the ugliest thing I have ever seen”? Or do you look up at it in awe that something so amazing exists? I can bet on at least a good ninety-eight percent of you that find it beautiful. So why then can’t we accept difference? We are only cheating ourselves.
The American family. Ward and June or Peg and Al? These days there are multiple aspects of a family. Family isn’t necessarily the one that gave birth to you or the ones in your same gene pool. Family is your mate, your spouse, your friends. The people you turn to when times are rough or where you go to share yourself, your life, your experiences, knowing and trusting that you won’t be judged or turned away. Along with that word “family” comes a far greater word, “love”. These two words should be equated. Not because a family has to love as an obligation but because that’s really all we have, love. It is the only thing in life that’s free. It’s what we strive for. In this day in age, there are those that don’t even talk to their immediate families, some that are close to their immediate families, some that don’t know their families and some that have created their own idea of family. Sadly, at the rate this country is going, family is taking a back seat. I have seen children that haven’t gotten to know the real sense of the word. They are being raised by nannies and child care because their parents are off trying to make ends meet. I know that in this country women and men have to bust their butts to feed their children as well as themselves but what happens to the kids left behind? I wonder, are these children lacking love? Do they feel abandoned or a little too independent? The children that are being raised by someone may have some direction, some sense of foundation. What about the children left at hone to make the choice to do their homework or watch cartoons? Or better yet, play a video game that delights in killing off as many “enemies” as possible? These children going home to empty houses, caretakers, relatives, not their parents, it seems unfair. What if something happened to them? It seems it is more difficult to even discuss this subject, it has become oddly taboo.
A day for the blue collar. Labor Day. A whole day off once a year when the government decides to recognize those that are working themselves to the bone to make enough money just to get by. I don’t know about you, but how about longer vacations? No, we get a day. One whole day. The sad thing about that one day is how some us look forward to having those three days off so that we can plan a little getaway, have a barbecue or spend time with our kids. What is one day going to do? In Europe, they have four weeks holiday in most countries. That doesn’t count sick days. What are we doing wrong? We have the most debt, politicians that are robbing us blind, taxes that leave us all poor and a slave to the IRS and less and less time to enjoy this short journey we call life. What kind of quality life do they think we’re getting? This isn’t living. This is a job. Whether you live in Los Angeles and drive an unnecessary hour and a half to work because the Metrolink is a joke and the buses would take four hours to get you anywhere or if you’re in another big city where gridlock, unavailable taxi’s and safety make it difficult on your morning and evening commute, this is all way too much work. Think about how much time we spend getting to work because our State Government officials haven’t yet found a reliable public transportation system. Granted New York and Chicago are fairly well taken care of but what about Los Angeles, San Francisco, Washington D.C.? And if we have to have a car to get from here to there, why is it so expensive? Car insurance, registration fees, smog checks, tires, maintenance, and my Gosh, gasoline! Why must the majority of people work at a job that makes them miserable but gets the bills paid?
Isn’t there a way to use all of those nice, chunky tax dollars to make life a little less stressful for the average American? Uncle Sam. Well, that brings me to my next subject. What about all of that money that I know this Government has? Why are the homeless unable to receive proper care? Why are the mentally handicapped completely dismissed by the United States Government? Why do children have access to guns? Why do we have to have so many guns? Why can’t we put up our fists like real men and women and sweat out some of that testosterone and estrogen? Why are our jail systems crowded with people who smoke pot and the rapists are out gallivanting around committing more treacherous crimes against humanity? Why are child molester’s living in cities where more children exist? Why do you think people need anger management? Do you think that it’s because we all have so many personal problems? No, it’s because living in this country is just too damn hard! Where is that wonderful thing called freedom and why is it so wearing on the human spirit?
Freedom, it is a brilliant idea and much more than a mindless pursuit. This country is noted for freedom but aren’t we all slaves?
