Courage and Love on a Little Blue Planet

By Austin T. Murphy

Photo Credit: Fletcher Krawczuk

**The musical themes for this post are "Island" by Coheed & Cambria and "In Your Time" by Bob Seger.**

Blind faith is a tricky concept to tackle. I've never been a devoutly religious person, so far be it from me to try to tell you how you should or shouldn't live your life or what to believe. That's for you to decide in your own time.

What I can tell you -- with no doubt in mind -- is that the most important thing you can and should believe in is yourself.

Just consider the actual unlikelihood that you are living your life today with whatever privileges you are afforded. We are all human, and though some are in "better" positions given class structures, just consider the abysmal probability that you -- out of billions of people -- are able to wake up on a given day and exist.

Not just that you exist, but that you also have the power to choose how you respond to external stimuli. It's all about your attitude: you can either embrace your obstacles and overcome them, or you can shrink from them and allow them to rule your life.

This is a fact in all walks of life. Too many people, today and historically, have been paralyzed by the fear of failure...when in reality the only thing to fear is the shame of never trying.

So I'm eliciting a challenge to you on this warm, sunny Saturday: try to do something new today. Try to do something you've never done before.

This is especially important because of how easily we can trap ourselves in routines in an attempt to blind ourselves from the excitement of a spontaneous, unpredictable life. Obviously a semblance of a routine is critical to our survival in an advanced civilization, but that doesn't mean you must (or should) repeat the exact same actions day after day after day after day....

The most successful people in the world don't allow themselves to live in an enclosed circle; they establish circles everywhere they go, and they break free of them whenever they recognize the time has come to do so.

The most successful people are more than aware that their every move isn't going to be perfect, nor do they need to be precise in every calculation. And most importantly, they recognize obstacles for what they are: opportunities to improve as a person.

As for me, I'm choosing to embrace my obstacles. I enjoy surprising myself with my own strength.

So I suppose it also comes down to a choice on your behalf. You can either be someone's obstacle, or you can be their ally. For better or for worse, your actions will always have an impact -- sometimes small and sometimes big -- on other people.

If you choose to be my ally, then we can strive to achieve the impossible and accomplish what has never been done before.

If you choose to be my obstacle, then I feel sorry for you. We weren't put on this planet to fight each other; we were put on this planet to help one another and mend our broken parts.

Courage and Love in the Central Valley

By Austin T. Murphy

Avoid the city of Fresno at all costs. You have been warned.

    The world is a fickle place, my friends. Although we’d like to believe we are better than the herd, we all waver between moods and opinions, living our lives in the in-betweens much more  than the peaks and valleys.

    And that’s ok.

    Permanence is beautiful, like the redwood tree, the Grand Canyon, and the Great Wall of China. But humans are not permanent. We exist here for a short time, and in that time we value our personal experiences and knowledge above all else, for that is all we know.

    That’s why it is ok for us to change our minds from time to time. After all, nothing lasts anyways.

    Hell, the media does it for us when they are constantly telling us that we should hate, then  love, then resent, then admire LeBron James, Tiger Woods, Kobe Bryant, Tom Brady, Richard Sherman, Tim Tebow, Barry Bonds, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Chris Brown, and Kim Kardashian all within the course of the week.

But that’s not really the point at all, is it? Thank goodness I caught myself, because that could have gone in a strange direction.

The point, I suppose, is that this isn’t really about humans, and this definitely isn’t about celebrities, landmarks, or nature.

This is about me, and the fact that I can’t make up my damn mind about what to do about you.

I loved you. And I use the past tense because I can’t know if I still do anymore. I haven’t seen you in months, and the last time I did I swore I wouldn’t keep carrying on.

I can be sure of that little bit, though. I definitely loved you. That is a fact.

And I’m well aware that people can change. After all, I am 110% different from the person I was five years, ten years, even twenty years ago.

And I’m pausing briefly here because I know I’m going to need some help from my favorite musicians to say what I really ought to say.

This is certainly a different kind of piece; for anyone of you reading, welcome to the real me.

Inhale. Exhale.

Some days I can’t stop thinking about how perfect it felt when we were happy. I’d call you over to the couch, put my arms around you, and bask in the smile spread across your face.

I often told you that you fit perfectly in my arms.

And then I gather myself, ten seconds later, and remember all of the ugliness that came out of us. All the terrible things I said, and remember that I haven’t always been the best man I am capable of being.

But it takes two to tango, and you have that strange ability to push my buttons even with your silence. I know you so well, and you know that I do. I’m utterly convinced that you do it on purpose when you feign ignorance and play the martyr.

I’m not perfect, but neither are you. And just because I don’t want to hold onto the bad moments or make note of every fault you’ve ever made doesn’t mean that the bad moments don’t happen or that you are infallible.

It just means that we are both human, and we are both capable of making mistakes.

And hell, maybe you were a mistake to me. But I’d like to think not.

I just don’t understand what you want at this point. I don’t understand how you can honestly think that I want to talk to you less than a week after I told you I don’t want you to in my life. I said it quite clear. I was there. And you heard me.

But of course it goes back to the precedent I’ve set. You have no reason, other than intermittent periods or months of silence, to believe that I’ll ever be true to my word. After all, I always slip up, I always let down my guard and relapse back into answering the phone when you call eventually.

I’m like a clock that way. You can always count on me to let you back in even though I shouldn’t.

In the end I guess it all just comes down to asking myself what I really want, which is about as simple as reciting the first three hundred digits of pi by memory.

3.14159265....

What I want, or at least what I think I want, is for you to wake up to the reality that we can’t try again, that we can’t be friends, and that we are both much better off accepting that and not kidding ourselves.

We have long since established that we simply have fundamental differences of opinion and values. Not to mention that I’ll forever hate myself in remembering the terrible things I’ve been and said to you.

But I can hear it in your voice when you speak that you still believe somehow. And that’s the problem. You are so sheltered and protected that you don’t see the situation clearly for what it is, and that’s not me calling you out or pretending to be better or wiser than you.

That’s me calling it as I see it, and I see that we have grown up in different situations. Sure we have similarities, but there have been so many times that you don’t understand my motives or intentions all because of how you were raised and the life you’ve lived.

You don’t understand. At all. But I want you to, so badly.

And so I have to keep truckin’, keep moving forward with blinders like Abraham leaving Sodom and Gomorrah.

Well that has to be a first. Wasn’t planning on taking this all the way back to Genesis when I started, but c’est la vie--as if that is any valid excuse.

And I have to keep my eyes straight ahead and my mind clear, and I have to try as hard as I can not to think of you whenever I listen to one of the two hundred love songs on my phone, because that’s what makes it the hardest.

At this point, I really don’t have anything else to say other than thank god I left the Central Valley, and thank god I’m naive enough to believe that everything happens for a reason.

Because, frankly, that is the only reason I can still hope that there’s an answer around the corner, another adventure to undertake, and another girl that I can lose my mind over just like I’ve always done.

It has to happen...because there’s no way I was put on this Earth just to write the abstract and objective, destined to desire but never taste the sweet marrow of life.

But if it doesn’t there’s no point in bitching about the inevitable. Whatever is going to happen will happen with or without my consent or happiness.

God, this has to be the saddest point I’ve made in awhile. If you’ve made it this far, I’m truly sorry that I can’t leave you with something more uplifting, but “Silver Springs” just came on and I need to end this before it makes me any angrier.

If you have a significant other in your life, boo for you. Because, as I paraphrase Beverly D’Angelo in Christmas Vacation, “It’s the [holidays], and we’re all in misery.” 

© Austin T. Murphy 2016 

Courage and Love in the California Desert

By Austin T. Murphy

Image Credit: Coheed & Cambria

Sometimes you have to take three steps backwards before you can move forward. With that being said, the two theme songs for this post are "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber and "Basket Case" by Green Day (two songs that probably couldn't sound more different).

I have to apologize for something, but I'm not making this apology to anyone else. I am apologizing to myself because I lied to myself. I said I wouldn't leave my friends and family again, but it happened again. And this time it took me to a place that scared the ever-living shit out of me.

I have a problem. But the best part of having a problem is knowing that you have the tools to fix it. Ever since I was young I have always excelled at mathematics and finding the solution to an equation.

The solution to this "math" problem is basic subtraction:

1+1=2

So, conversely 2-1=1.

Basic logic.

I am not alone, nor will I ever be if I value the relationships in my life. But the most important thing I learned from this life-changing foray into darkness is that you have to love yourself before you can love other people.

I met some of the most incredible people this weekend. And though they all have their own issues, they aren't alone in the struggle. Quoting Billy Joel, "We all have our cross to bear."

If you're lucky, you have other people in your life who are willing to share the load. Be it Samwise Gamgee, Siri, or a youth you have always underestimated, the world is too precious to allow others to dwell in the shadows of obscurity.

And more than anything else, you need to let people know 1) when you need them the most, and 2) that you appreciate everything they have done for you.

My final sentiment today is that we all have our own ways of coping with fear. I already know what mine is, and if you can't tell already it has something to do with organizing letters and numbers on paper. But these coping mechanisms aren't exclusive to dealing with trauma; you can also use them to explain your life and your personal story to anyone that doesn't understand.

The world is filled with billions of people; therefore, it is also filled with billions of stories.

Again, basic logic.

The next time you see me, ask me about mine. I'm sure it is far different from yours, and I know that you can't tell my story nearly as well as I can.

But also know that you are the only person who can tell your story with the utmost honesty and passion. So I'll leave you with a few helpful words from my favorite band, Coheed & Cambria:

"Give them a story -- they want you to."

© Austin T. Murphy 2016 

Tonal Analysis of "This Night" by Billy Joel/Ludwig van Beethoven

Last Night...This Night...and Tomorrow Night...

By Austin Murphy

**If you are not familiar with musical terminology, refer to the three diagrams at the bottom.**

          I spent four years studying Music Theory at UCSB, but it wasn’t until last night that I finally put my skills to use by analyzing my first piece since 2014 -- “This Night” by Billy Joel.

Best prepare yourself for a lot of musical jargon.

    Originally released on his 1983 album An Innocent Man, the song borrows a chord progression from the second movement of Beethoven’s “Pathetique.” We analyzed this specific progression during my freshman year, but only now do I see Joel’s brilliance on display in bringing the Romantic era into the 20th century.

The lyrics are quite obviously about the singer’s trepidation and hesitation to trust a specific person and fall in love again, constantly reminding himself that he “fell” into a similar trap before. In the chorus the two characters eventually conquer their fear and spend “this night” together, and they end the song unconcerned about what tomorrow will bring because it is so far away.

While the lyrics are sweet and romantic, they are only half of the whole story -- fitting, because lovers are so often halves of a whole. The rest of the story is told within the music, but you have to parse it out to truly understand.

Let’s picture the two characters as being key signatures: the man (singer) is A major, and the lady is F major. A major is written as having three sharps and, when pictured on a staff, slightly resembles the shape of a heart. F major, contrastingly, only uses one accidental -- a single flat, subliminally implying that the two characters are not on the same page (rather, that they are on opposite ends of the earth, city, or perhaps even the same room).

Further, it is my interpretation that despite being “friends” both parties view each other with their contradicting key signatures as being uninterested in each other. They like one another, but each views the other as being standoffish simply because they are too lost in their own worlds or “songs,” -- but this is about to change.

As the verse (the man’s solo) progresses, he talks about “breaking his promises” -- promises he made to himself not to fall again, that he and the lady would remain friends. But after he starts dancing with her, ironic because the “dance” begins with a “D” major chord -- not to mention that D major is the only chord the two opposing keys share despite collectively occupying all 12 notes on the staff.

In other words, the man and lady found a common ground, a shared passion.

And so they danced, “though it was only a slow dance.” But the man is quickly forgetting his past and doesn’t remember the “rules” anymore -- not to fall for friends.

The dance is the chorus, when the man “falls” into her key of F major -- literally falling downwards from the note “A” to “F.” Though they dance, he is still adamant about being the “man” and claiming the night as his territory -- despite the fact that dancing is a two-person act. And thus, he scares away the lady when he is too “aggressive” the first time they meet.

And so we return to the verse in A major. The man is lonely and misses the feeling of being half of a whole -- even though he still remembers the last time he was hurt. And eventually it all becomes too much, and he “falls” into the chorus, again.

This time, he is wiser. He dances much longer with the lady -- remaining in F major (ironically as friends with a capital ‘F’) for the second chorus -- and he allows himself to stay close to her when the saxophone “solo” ends -- in a nearby key.

But being in the key of F-major during the chorus is even more significant because at that point the characters almost share all three notes of the chord. “A” is part of both chords, and the characters are only a half-tone apart with “C” and “C-sharp.” Now we just need to know what happens to the discordant, “warring” notes of “E” and “F,” which are also only a half-tone apart and look very similar as letters.

This is where Joel’s brilliance is on display, because you can literally picture the modulations and keys as characters on paper moving closer to each other. While they were in F-major, the letter “F” was missing the bottom “rung” which would turn it into the letter “E,” and the “C-sharp” has an extra ‘#’ sign that the “C” note doesn’t need -- but maybe if the man gave the girl that last sharp (letter) he was holding onto, she could fill in that missing piece.

In the nearby key, B-flat major, the man is showing the lady that he cares about her by shedding his “standoffish” sharps and “attracting” her with two flats of his own. The lady sees something in him she can relate to (the flat), and she comes closer -- but there is still one thing remaining:

The resolution.

In music, a perfect resolution occurs when a dominant chord “resolves” into the tonic (e.g. a G chord followed by a more “sonically-stable” C chord). But as we know, there is no such thing as a “perfect” story, and so the characters both need to make a sacrifice to prove themselves to each other.

The man and lady resolve their differences when they finally express their true feelings with a verbal resolution in the form of a new key: E-flat major, a key that is written as having three flats. The pair dances together in the last chorus in what we assume to be the “nearby” key of B-flat major, but what they are actually doing is lingering on the doorstep with a dominant chord (B-flat).

The man and lady are already together -- and they both know it and confirm it when the song ends on an E-flat major chord, the new tonic. They let go of their own selfishness and allow themselves to fall in love again despite previous heartbreaks.

And the most touching part of what actually turns out to be a “perfect resolution” -- in disguise because the penultimate chord was drawn out and “hidden” as an entire key -- is the final key. With three flats, E-flat is written on the staff in almost mirror image of A-major: in the shape of a heart.

The man isn’t asking the girl to change entirely for him. He just needs her to shift down to the letter “E,” -- “fall” from being friends -- and he gives her a flat (his mended heart) so she can be her own person but also be closer to him.

So we finally know what happened at the very beginning to cause a rift between the two parties. The man came on too strong and scared his lady away by saying three specific words too early in their relationship. She wasn’t ready because she only had “one-third” of her heart ready to commit.

But at the very end, the man and lady come together again to tell each other the three words they’ve been meaning to say during the entire song...

...

And I’m not even going to type them, because you already know what those three words are.

© Austin T. Murphy 2016

Courage and Love by the Pacific Ocean

"You were there for me, and I was there for you."

By Austin Murphy

Photo Credit: Fletcher Krawczuk

As a musical person, it surprises me that I have yet to actually correlate these posts to specific songs. At some point I will try to figure out how to add an mp3 player to each individual blog update. With that being said, my recommendation is that you listen to "Let You Go" by the Chainsmokers and "Untouchable" by Cash Cash while reading this today.

I suppose it is fitting to feel older and wiser, after all January is named for Janus--the Roman god of time and transitions (credit goes to Brandon Gillespie for bringing this to my attention). I celebrated my 24th birthday less than a week ago, and I have never felt more alive and excited.

During the week of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, I had an experience that drastically reshaped my perspective and made me understand my own mortality and fortune. I won't go into gruesome detail--1) because it is far more personal than a simple blog post, and 2) because the actual telling of the story would require far too much time and faith on behalf of the reader--but you should know that there are forces at work in this world that the human mind is not prepared to comprehend despite its complexity.

What I will divulge, however, is that the human mind is far more powerful than even the wisest can understand, and fear is rational and present in everyday life. While I feel safe and secure again, my experience took me far outside of anything and everything I have ever known.

I confronted fears that have harbored within my mind for years. I wrestled with my own fear of mortality. I came to terms with my fear of losing a home, brought on years ago by the division of my own family. And I finally let go of my fear of trusting people too much, allowing me to put an end to thoughts of missing someone who wronged me very seriously.

You don't betray the trust of someone who loves you.

Most importantly, perhaps, I put to rest my fear of acceptance. Since I was a young boy I have felt like an outsider in so many situations, but this isn't something that should be feared. Our lives unwind in unexpected ways, but they'll eventually lead you to the people you are meant to cherish and grow old with.

In confronting these fears, my mind journeyed through time and space and explored the very basis for existence and the history of the universe. I could have been lost forever, contemplating and fearing forces and fates greater than myself. Fortunately, I found my way back--in large part due to my passions (music, language, and science) and the memories instilled in my mind of friends and family and their loving faces.

And so I quote the little girl, Rosie, from Universal Studios' 1995 animated film "Balto":

"Thank you...I would have been lost without you."

I won't profess to understand every intricacy of the universe, for that is far too much information for one man to comprehend. I will, however, divulge a well-known secret that many people are already aware of: we need each other, and we must depend on one another for our survival.

Which brings me to another personal anecdote, one which I will divulge in its entirety. After moving to Santa Barbara, my previous residence charged me outrageous amounts of money for the state of my unit upon moving out. While some charges were legitimate, I disputed others that I found to be unreasonable and unfair.

Over the course of the ensuing months I corresponded back and forth with their bookkeeper, eventually settling upon a monthly payment plan that would put the issue to rest. During the past week, however, I learned that new employees had been assigned to my account, and they had not been brought up to speed about my payment plan.

I received a threatening, harassing letter from the "General Manager," informing me that I would be sent to collections if I ignored their final settlement offer. I have communicated back and forth over the past week over email, attempting to explain my situation. My words fell upon deaf ears, however, as the GM has elected to treat me not as a person with actual feelings, but rather as an account to be closed out.

Admittedly, I have never attended business school nor taken a course in ethics, but I understand very well that people respond far better to manners, cordiality, and compassion than they do to threats and disdain. While I do intend to finalize my balance, my only request has been for the GM to apologize for the way I have been treated on behalf of the residence. Thus far, she has been unsympathetic, disrespectful, and unapologetic--and I am truly sorry for any future tenants who will have to deal with this woman in the future.

(She and the residence will remain nameless, because I am not so vindictive that I want to harm their business.)

I carry far too little concern to harbor ill feelings towards this woman, but she is portraying very well the apathy that pervades modern humanity. So many disputes and conflicts in life can be avoided if people possessed empathy and could extract themselves from their own self-concern and narcissism.

Experiences like the ones I have endured are not to be feared, but rather embraced as signs that you are learning more about yourself and this precious world. They serve as benchmarks and test, as totems and mementos that people are inherently good.

But most importantly, they serve as reminders. "Reminders of what?" you may ask. To this I answer: I don't know. It's different for everybody. For you it could be a reminder of the first time you met your best friend or your personal hero, and for another it could be a reminder of the first time he or she farted in front of a significant other or ate Thai food.

For me, it's a reminder that it's okay to let go of some people and grudges, and it's okay to let new people into your life--people you can trust. And the memory can be brought forth just by looking into someone's eyes, wherein you'll find an implicit understanding of goodwill, benevolence, and love.

For me, I'm reminded of a feeling I haven't felt in a long time, of a person I haven't seen in what feels like forever--but I'm ready to let the past go and move forward with the truest optimism and surefire determination. We were not made to walk this world alone, and I'm ready to set my sails again and let the wind guide me into the bluest ocean of possibility and into the arms of whoever I'm destined to find.

As Billy Joel once sang, "Honesty is such a lonely word." But while trust and compassion may be hard to find, they are quite easy to embrace. I'm writing this for a special, select group and for some of the most incredible people I've ever met. And I want you to know that I trust you with my life, and I will always be there for you.

It's paramount that we let our friends and family know how important they are to us. And so I say to all who have been there for me when I needed them--and in Swedish, no less, because I learned these three words from a remarkable young lady who never fails to put a smile on my face...

Jag älskar dig.

© Austin T. Murphy 2016