© Saman Giraud
1/10/2015
Je ne suis pas Charlie. Je suis Saman.
I am deeply saddened
by the attacks on Charlie Hebdo in Paris and I too, like all of you,
condemn any terrorist attack and any form of violence towards another
human being.
The attacks in Paris are profoundly shocking and it took me a few days to process the news. My thoughts are with the families of the victims and the people of France ever since. Acts of violence are not a solution and they will never be.
The attacks in Paris are profoundly shocking and it took me a few days to process the news. My thoughts are with the families of the victims and the people of France ever since. Acts of violence are not a solution and they will never be.
To my friends I'd like to say that hate speech is not a solution either.
It is a form of violence on its own. We all, religious and
non-religious people are upset, angry and hurt yet remember that we are
better than the product of our anger. We are smarter. We have the luxury
to access information and enjoy education and we have the means to make
our voices heard and speak up.
I condemn any extremism comments, be it on Facebook or spoken out loud, as extremism leads to extremism and I will not support any form of hate or generalization especially not when we're talking about nearly 2 billion people globally.
Remember that there is no or very little real depth analysis in the media and that the issue is broken down into a recipe based on three ingredients: a satire, a religion and a gun. Remember that there is more to it.
Therefore it is important to ask the right questions and I'd like to ask all of you to take the time, even when upset, to question everything you read in the media. Do your research until you find answers for yourself that you can represent and argue for. If you take a step back you might even see that history is simply repeating itself.
We should remember that these terrorist acts are an aberration of people's faith.
We should remember more than ever to respect and protect our friends and people who are faithful and innocent as they have been and will be the target of hatespeech, insult, violence and discrimination.
Remember to call for reason.
We should stand united against terrorist attacks and any form of extremism. We should stand united against polarization and hate. We should stand for mutual respect and love for those who are innocent.
Je ne suis pas Charlie. Je suis Saman.
I condemn any extremism comments, be it on Facebook or spoken out loud, as extremism leads to extremism and I will not support any form of hate or generalization especially not when we're talking about nearly 2 billion people globally.
Remember that there is no or very little real depth analysis in the media and that the issue is broken down into a recipe based on three ingredients: a satire, a religion and a gun. Remember that there is more to it.
Therefore it is important to ask the right questions and I'd like to ask all of you to take the time, even when upset, to question everything you read in the media. Do your research until you find answers for yourself that you can represent and argue for. If you take a step back you might even see that history is simply repeating itself.
We should remember that these terrorist acts are an aberration of people's faith.
We should remember more than ever to respect and protect our friends and people who are faithful and innocent as they have been and will be the target of hatespeech, insult, violence and discrimination.
Remember to call for reason.
We should stand united against terrorist attacks and any form of extremism. We should stand united against polarization and hate. We should stand for mutual respect and love for those who are innocent.
Je ne suis pas Charlie. Je suis Saman.
10/21/2013
The Writer's Block Virgin
Every writer has made the acquaintance or has at least heard of the oh-so-legendary 'Writer's block'. And just like many others, I suddenly found myself unwillingly hurled at a place that I didn't like and therefore a place I urgently needed to leave. Welcome to the journey of a Writer's block virgin.
1) JUST RELAX
The exit door leading straight to creative wonderland seemed at first logical if not to say easy: Relaxation. Therefore I took a deep breath with my eyes gently closed like in those generic yoga ads. I tried to relax for hours, days, weeks, even for months. Yet the durability of trying to relax combined with the nonexistence of any satisfying results whatsoever, made me add an extra effort to it, which on the other hand resulted in nothing but additional stress: the stress over not being able to relax. And there I was back to exactly where I had started: stiff, tense and wordless. Clearly I was running in circles - running far away from relaxation. But I had gained one thing: a special form of a slight passive aggression towards any remotely human being trying to be 'helpful' and asking me to 'just relax'. Even though it is certainly questionable whether or not this state of mind can be described as a 'gain' at all. But that's a different story.
2) BEAUTY IS EVERYWHERE
Plan B was to write about something beautiful. Beauty can be incredibly disgusting when you're forced to it. Nonetheless, I decided to intensely seek inspiration as at that point the nausea of looking at a blank piece of paper forced me to scale down my expectations from 600 words down to one single sentence. Talk about being desperate. I sat down over and over again, thinking of the past few months, my eyes still closed, seeing the incredible collection of breathtaking impressions and emotions I had been blessed with and that I had stored in my head. A wonderful place thus far far away from my fingertips. You would think that any writer would be able to fulfill the task of writing a single sentence. But nowadays more than ever a single sentence is under a constant serious life threat by being just one click away from trash and two clicks from forever gone.
3) ANY TOPIC IS A GOOD TOPIC
I ended up gazing shyly at good old Google, like a little girl who is well aware that she's not supposed to look at the soon to follow sex scene on TV but somehow can't help it. Google is naked knowledge combining the good, the evil and the idiotic and therefore it has an answer to almost every question I can possibly think of. I was looking for the famous advice of famous authors- famous as in folks who actually get paid for a sentence. I can tell you that any hint of possible embarrassment over myself googling 'Writer's block' vanished within 0,35 seconds. That's how long it took Google to give me more than 75 million results on this topic. Clearly I was not the only one and needless to say that I never made it past page 1 of my search results. Now some of these famous authors suggest to write about something. Anything. Whatever. Obviously I gave it a shot. Who wouldn't? Their financial life depends on writing so whatever advice they have to offer must work, right? Wrong.
I found myself trying to write about the daily news, orphans in Syria, hope and death in Lampedusa, water on Mars, global warming and other serious topics. I quickly switched to fashion week, people, couples,weirdos or nerdos before getting to good food, bad food, a skirt, a plant, love, a piece of art - even dirt. I was drifting from topic to abstract and steering from a state of being desperate towards madness. What was missing was my inner glue on which words would simply stick and the fun I used to feel when writing.
4)FUN
Ray Bradbury, what would I do without you? I found a video of the Sixth Annual Writer's Symposium by the Sea in 2001, where Ray talked about writing and simultaneously rocked my world. That's when he unknowingly became my writer friend. And here's an excerpt of smarty pants Ray:
“Well, it’s obvious you’re doing the wrong thing, aren’t you? Hm? You're in the middle of writing something, you go blank and your mind says: “No, that’s it.” Huh? Ok. You’re being warned, aren’t you? Your subconscious is saying “I don’t like you anymore. You’re writing about things I don’t give a damn for.” Huh? You’re being political or you’re being socially aware. You’re writing things that will benefit the world. To hell with that! Huh? I don’t write things to benefit the world. If it happens that they do, swell! I didn’t set out to do that. I set out to have a hell of a lot of fun. Huh? I’ve never worked a day in my life. I’ve NEVER worked a day in my life. The joy of writing has propelled me from day to day and year to year. I want you to envy me, my joy. Get out of here tonight and say: ‘Am I being joyful?’ And if you’ve got a Writer’s block, you can cure it this evening by stopping whatever you’re writing and doing something else. You picked the wrong subject.”
Cheers to you Ray. May your wonderful soul rest in peace.
1) JUST RELAX
The exit door leading straight to creative wonderland seemed at first logical if not to say easy: Relaxation. Therefore I took a deep breath with my eyes gently closed like in those generic yoga ads. I tried to relax for hours, days, weeks, even for months. Yet the durability of trying to relax combined with the nonexistence of any satisfying results whatsoever, made me add an extra effort to it, which on the other hand resulted in nothing but additional stress: the stress over not being able to relax. And there I was back to exactly where I had started: stiff, tense and wordless. Clearly I was running in circles - running far away from relaxation. But I had gained one thing: a special form of a slight passive aggression towards any remotely human being trying to be 'helpful' and asking me to 'just relax'. Even though it is certainly questionable whether or not this state of mind can be described as a 'gain' at all. But that's a different story.
2) BEAUTY IS EVERYWHERE
Plan B was to write about something beautiful. Beauty can be incredibly disgusting when you're forced to it. Nonetheless, I decided to intensely seek inspiration as at that point the nausea of looking at a blank piece of paper forced me to scale down my expectations from 600 words down to one single sentence. Talk about being desperate. I sat down over and over again, thinking of the past few months, my eyes still closed, seeing the incredible collection of breathtaking impressions and emotions I had been blessed with and that I had stored in my head. A wonderful place thus far far away from my fingertips. You would think that any writer would be able to fulfill the task of writing a single sentence. But nowadays more than ever a single sentence is under a constant serious life threat by being just one click away from trash and two clicks from forever gone.
3) ANY TOPIC IS A GOOD TOPIC
I ended up gazing shyly at good old Google, like a little girl who is well aware that she's not supposed to look at the soon to follow sex scene on TV but somehow can't help it. Google is naked knowledge combining the good, the evil and the idiotic and therefore it has an answer to almost every question I can possibly think of. I was looking for the famous advice of famous authors- famous as in folks who actually get paid for a sentence. I can tell you that any hint of possible embarrassment over myself googling 'Writer's block' vanished within 0,35 seconds. That's how long it took Google to give me more than 75 million results on this topic. Clearly I was not the only one and needless to say that I never made it past page 1 of my search results. Now some of these famous authors suggest to write about something. Anything. Whatever. Obviously I gave it a shot. Who wouldn't? Their financial life depends on writing so whatever advice they have to offer must work, right? Wrong.
I found myself trying to write about the daily news, orphans in Syria, hope and death in Lampedusa, water on Mars, global warming and other serious topics. I quickly switched to fashion week, people, couples,weirdos or nerdos before getting to good food, bad food, a skirt, a plant, love, a piece of art - even dirt. I was drifting from topic to abstract and steering from a state of being desperate towards madness. What was missing was my inner glue on which words would simply stick and the fun I used to feel when writing.
4)FUN
Ray Bradbury, what would I do without you? I found a video of the Sixth Annual Writer's Symposium by the Sea in 2001, where Ray talked about writing and simultaneously rocked my world. That's when he unknowingly became my writer friend. And here's an excerpt of smarty pants Ray:
“Well, it’s obvious you’re doing the wrong thing, aren’t you? Hm? You're in the middle of writing something, you go blank and your mind says: “No, that’s it.” Huh? Ok. You’re being warned, aren’t you? Your subconscious is saying “I don’t like you anymore. You’re writing about things I don’t give a damn for.” Huh? You’re being political or you’re being socially aware. You’re writing things that will benefit the world. To hell with that! Huh? I don’t write things to benefit the world. If it happens that they do, swell! I didn’t set out to do that. I set out to have a hell of a lot of fun. Huh? I’ve never worked a day in my life. I’ve NEVER worked a day in my life. The joy of writing has propelled me from day to day and year to year. I want you to envy me, my joy. Get out of here tonight and say: ‘Am I being joyful?’ And if you’ve got a Writer’s block, you can cure it this evening by stopping whatever you’re writing and doing something else. You picked the wrong subject.”
Cheers to you Ray. May your wonderful soul rest in peace.
5/31/2013
2/27/2013
Maverick
Your voice whispers blandly my name,
Drowning the noises of a world I do not understand,
Appeasing my fire, guarding my flame,
Treasuring clandestinity that neither you or I had planned...
Affinity expelled prudence the moment we met,
Rarely in times, ones own life song can be a duet,
I dove in your loving gaze, fearless, perhaps I knew,
That in the unknown depths I would find me within you.
Ingeniously you strike my hair as if you would touch my skin,
In the palm of your sweet hands I learned where I begin.
Your luscious scent, once inhaled, is addictive as air,
Paired with your voluptuous kisses words fail to compare.
Forgive my voice, it lacks my words, my whisper is due,
Let me elucidate, this poem is just for you.
2/07/2013
1/21/2013
A Love Letter by Count Tolstoy
I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in
you that
which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul.
Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour
and cease to love it as speedily;
but the soul
one must learn to know.
Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour,
even love,
the most beautiful and natural of feelings.
which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul.
Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour
and cease to love it as speedily;
but the soul
one must learn to know.
Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour,
even love,
the most beautiful and natural of feelings.
10/27/2012
Inspiration
It was a cold November night a few years ago; one of those nights whose whispers, announcing the approaching snowfall, become louder and inevitably reach my ears, where the air is crisp, almost razor-sharp, cracking like a whip, where the smell of pure, chilled air fills my warm summery lungs and where the empty streets of New York City are filled with the sudden void of in between seasons.
I gently pulled my bed sheets, wakening the mild perfume of detergent, and laid my heavy head on the pillow, evenly spreading out my thoughts. With each passing moment, my body started to descend into the mattress while the day began its surrender - leaving me to the mysterious nothing yet to come...
My eyes were closed when the serenity was interrupted: a fast pacing storm of distinct pictures and vivid colors, of unique characters and dialogues, of old french music and moods as diverse as only a human soul can be, invaded my mind. Dense Inspiration at its purest hit me like a thunderbolt and took over everything that is me: It spread from my eyes to the tip of my fingers, adhered to my bones until they merged and rushed through my blood in a state of urgency, pushed its way through my veins and pumped up my heart.
I glared at the ceiling, gasping for air, pushed away the bed sheets I had wrapped myself in only moments earlier - its cozy warmth suddenly an obstacle. I jumped out of the bed, ran to the kitchen to prepare fresh coffee only to run immediately back to my bedroom where I slid the heavy window with all my strength and as fast as I could to let all the air in that I could possibly inhale while still surrounded by darkness. The light switch seemed to be yet another obstacle, but one I could live without overcoming. I prepared my desk that was facing the open window with the one thing that would be needed for the moments to come: a blank page on my laptop's screen. And when I finally sat down I looked up into the dark blue sky , greeted the moon and started to write.
I remember how I tried to write as fast as possible, led by the fear of losing the pictures in my head at any moment, led by the rage that my fingers could not type as fast as I could see and led by the rush of Inspiration still running through my veins that made my heart beat so fast that I would not breathe but gasp for air.
Four hours later: 'M4 - My Many Married Men' was born and I sat there in the darkness, my inspiration looking right at me.
I gently pulled my bed sheets, wakening the mild perfume of detergent, and laid my heavy head on the pillow, evenly spreading out my thoughts. With each passing moment, my body started to descend into the mattress while the day began its surrender - leaving me to the mysterious nothing yet to come...
My eyes were closed when the serenity was interrupted: a fast pacing storm of distinct pictures and vivid colors, of unique characters and dialogues, of old french music and moods as diverse as only a human soul can be, invaded my mind. Dense Inspiration at its purest hit me like a thunderbolt and took over everything that is me: It spread from my eyes to the tip of my fingers, adhered to my bones until they merged and rushed through my blood in a state of urgency, pushed its way through my veins and pumped up my heart.
I glared at the ceiling, gasping for air, pushed away the bed sheets I had wrapped myself in only moments earlier - its cozy warmth suddenly an obstacle. I jumped out of the bed, ran to the kitchen to prepare fresh coffee only to run immediately back to my bedroom where I slid the heavy window with all my strength and as fast as I could to let all the air in that I could possibly inhale while still surrounded by darkness. The light switch seemed to be yet another obstacle, but one I could live without overcoming. I prepared my desk that was facing the open window with the one thing that would be needed for the moments to come: a blank page on my laptop's screen. And when I finally sat down I looked up into the dark blue sky , greeted the moon and started to write.
I remember how I tried to write as fast as possible, led by the fear of losing the pictures in my head at any moment, led by the rage that my fingers could not type as fast as I could see and led by the rush of Inspiration still running through my veins that made my heart beat so fast that I would not breathe but gasp for air.
Four hours later: 'M4 - My Many Married Men' was born and I sat there in the darkness, my inspiration looking right at me.
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