Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.
Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.
If you remember me, I won’t be far away.
If you create the person that I used to be inside of your mind, I will always live there, I will always exist.
Take an old washed out vintage picture of my smiling portrait and remember what it felt like, let the nostalgia consume and surround your body. I might be gone and I know it has been a long time now, but that doesn’t mean I’m gone from your memory.
Walk outside where the tall trees watch over you and dream. There will be no one there but a vast network of green grass falling under the hills that kiss the horizon.
It’s a beautiful day, no clouds in sight and no one is around. For a moment, forget that you’re mortal and hold me for just one more time. If the past comes rushing by, if the world started to rewind and if nostalgia has invaded your consciousness, take a deep breath and float towards the sky.
You won’t know what’s going on, neither do I, but you will be by my side and time, time will hold you still.
And for a moment, you forgot you were mortal and felt a piece paradise overwhelm you. It’s what you always wanted, to see those that have moved on, to go back into the past and live again.
The aching heart moves on, but it doesn’t want to. There’s no choice, we move forward. From time to time you will look back and see if someone is looking back at you while you’re walking away. Whoever you want it to be. Disappointment sweeps over you.
I’m not here anymore, I have gone. You can remember, but I can’t promise I will as you will fade away and it will feel as if we had never met.
This vision is innocent and youthful, but truth be told, this will only happen when you’re old and taking the last gasps of life before you sleep again. You will remember when you were in your twenties, the best time of your life where you contemplated the rest of your life and felt indestructible. How the time has flown by.
If you remember me, I won’t be far away. Just before you sleep, remember what it feels like to long for something that has past and you will be captured inside the nostalgia forever.
You held me together
Like glue I was the one
I took it all for granted
I never wanted to let go
Through the pain
And when you runaway
The world becomes
That much further away
I have this fear
I didn’t want to see
Trying to hold it together
Everything becomes separated
As I stand here
Watch it all fade away
The memories and the hell
Forget them all
They would love to see you fall
Hold it all together now
It’s not the time to go
Let it fade
But tonight, just hold it
When you’re being tested
The odds against you
And this pain leaving you broken
You know how it’s going to be
How it’s going to end
You’re working hard to make it right
The love and hope just don’t match up
You try to think smart
Deep inside your heart
You’re lost and all these thoughts won’t cut it
Despite your efforts
You can’t make it
You have come so far
And just like that
It falls apart
And you break it
I work every minute of every day and I come home when the Sun has subsided. I leave my dog outside and he waits for me in the same spot I left him in.
He looks at me as I leave with his tail swaying from side to side and his mouth open with his tongue hanging. His eyes light up with every shadow that’s crossing the footpath. When he knows it’s not me a part of him sinks to the bottom of his stomach.
He waits there the whole day while the hours continue to pass him by. I may not come home today, but he waits anyway. He doesn’t chew on the bone I left for him and he doesn’t chase his tail.
When I do arrive home, I can see his eyes water more than usual. He can’t speak but the look on his face and the emotion in his eyes speaks a thousand languages.
Is it worth what a writer gives away?
Is what the writer writes enough to be exposed?
Undressing his mind and surrendering the words the only way a writer can escape?
Escape is needed.
Escaping from reality and into the depths of your mind will give you enough shelter until you have bled it out of ideas and imaginative plot twists. After all of that, is what you write even worth it? Is it worth being naked for, out there for the world to read? Is it worth to let strangers in?
That’s what a writer does, sends an invitation to the world with the name field left blank. For a blank mind is what a writer wants to allow room for what he has to say, what the writer might give away.
After you leave, your mind will be painted with a trillion different pictures all made up of words and bringing you closer to that elusive DNA strand that makes up your imagination.
Did you notice what’s in a number? Behind every closed door is a lock to a problem we have thrown away the keys for.
In searching for this key, we become powerless.
In 2010, 285 million people have type 2 diabetes worldwide.
More than 121 million people suffer from depression worldwide
64 million people have chronic obstructive pulmonary disease worldwide in 2004. By 2030, it is estimated to be the fourth leading cause of death worldwide due to an increase of people smoking. 3 million people died of COPD in 2005.
It’s estimated 57 million people die a year.
26.6 million people worldwide have Alzheimer’s disease in 2006.
10.8 million people are diagnosed with cancer per year and 6.7 million die from it.
8.8 million new cases of tuberculosis and 1.5 million deaths in 2010 worldwide.
7.6 million children under five years of age died in 2010 worldwide. That’s 21,000 children each day and 900 children every hour.
7.25 million people died of heart disease in 2008.
6.15 million people died from a stroke in 2008.
3.46 million people died of lower respiratory tract infection worldwide in 2008.
Multiple sclerosis affects 2.5 million people worldwide. In the United States, one person is diagnosed every hour.
Alcohol claims 2.5 million people each year.
1.78 million people died from HIV/AIDS in 2008. In 2010, 34 million people have AIDS worldwide.
1.39 million people died from lung cancer in 2008. 1.37 million people die every year from lung cancer.
Tobacco is a major cause of heart disease, lung disease and lung cancer. Tabacco is responsible for the death of one in 10 adults worldwide. Tobacco is a hidden statistic.
In 2008, 99% of children under five years of age who died were from low to middle income countries.
1.21 million people died from road traffic accidents in 2008.
Suicide takes the life of one million people every year and an estimated 20 million attempted suicides every year worldwide.
520,00 people were murdered in 2000 worldwide.
There’s 250,000 cases of rape reported annually that covers 65 countries.
It’s hard to notice when the window looking outside has a rainbow with no end. It’s hard to see the road back when the mist covers your tracks. There’s an empty seat here for you to notice that when the rain drops and hits the ground, to an ant, it’s a tidal wave of dreams never realised. And when the lighting hits on a rainy day, you will question that you thought the umbrella will save you from the fall. But you sing the chorus and you’ll wait for Christmas, but you know your family isn’t coming home. You put your dad’s old record of Elvis and listen to his sadness and by the time the song ends, you’ll see by all these numbers that you’re likely to be covered in darkness. In the night of despair, you wonder how your fear could be so heartless.
When did we become so helpless?
Fate is uncontrollable.
Don’t believe in fate, however, the concept expresses enough truth to warrant its place in existence.
Lying in bed with the lights off, hands behind your head and eyes wide open with the ceiling welcoming your attention. What goes through your mind? Is there a sense of appreciation in pondering life’s many enigmas? It’s your quiet time.
Insecurities become apparent as they have always been; never clouded. Not noticing them for a while as the feeling of knowing is enough for you to stop going.
Stop caring? You understand and you’re certain everyone else stares at their ceiling; with this assumption relief gently passes over your chest.
It’s not so different.
We often believe we’re walking away from problems, but we forget how our problems are holding our hands. Problems don’t believe in an end or a beginning, they have always existed in the dark. Questioning their origin, questioning like if a God exists. A delicate system made by rules associated with no logical answer.
Answers, that’s a thirst worth craving for, a lusting divine so elusive, oblivion will enclose our curiosity in due time. Best to wait for hope, but it’s not coming.
Human is what we are, a process, rules and principles governed by time and aging. Once this concept is understood entirely, a moment of obsolete is born.
The system whispers simulated emotions and feelings into your ear. It lingers while you understand not understanding this moment and for that moment to exist in something that didn’t exist.
If you’re overwhelmed with this emotion, your reaction speaks in actions. The tear’s breath chokes on its own moist; it’s that point where you cry and feel in the deepest part of your throat that something is embracing the loss. In that moment, it’s a matter of minutes before they have all gone.
It’s over, is it really over?
Bringing the camera back to you lying on your bed, powerless, you had it, it slipped, you knew it and you don’t know it.
All it takes is one blink of an eye and everything is gone, within a second is an eternity if you want it to last that long. There’s no reason, no explanation, it is what it is. The cycle continues with you lying on your bed with that tear falling and stopping, falling and stopping and eventually, suddenly, it moves swiftly past your cheek.
You realise, this experience will happen again in reality and in your dreams.
That’s the way it is. It’s not going to change, before you existed and in the darkness of your life, this is where you will be for the rest of your timeless existence.
If you were able to leave work tomorrow with a year’s salary included, what would you do? That might be too much freedom for some, maybe, not enough freedom for others. If you had one year before you had to go back to the routine of getting up the same time everyday, would you use it wisely?
If you haven’t been lucky enough to fall in love, take the time to look around and see if your smile might be melting the hearts of those that are around you.
Jump on a plane and leave to an unknown destination. Fly through the clouds and never look back. Travel around the world and go to places you have always dreamed of. You might not have had the chance when you were a little younger, but time isn’t making any exceptions, you have the opportunity, take it with both hands.
Understand the world in another language. Are you a poet inside? Maybe this could be your plan of attack for falling in love. Write a poem, if it doesn’t succeed in English, try writing it in French. If that fails, well, maybe he or she might think you’re cute enough for trying and you just might earn yourself a date. Watch the stars on a clear, summer’s night.
Love the water? Ride the waves. Set foot and explore the ocean with the cool breeze pushing gently behind your head with your eyes closed. The Sun rises to greet you as the calm of the water welcomes your presence to thank you for visiting from so far away. The water appreciates your company; something you thought was rare in this world.
If you have always contemplated about getting married, no need to wait anymore. Take a lengthy honeymoon away from the rest of the world. Enjoy your company and let reality drift off on to the offset of your imagination.
When you have ran out of ideas, think about exploring the hidden alleyways of your city. Then think about running away to other cities around the world and dine in exotic restaurants. It might be foreign, but the adventure will excite you, even making you feel alive for the first time since your memory could remember.
The only problem with all this is, once the year ends, you wouldn’t want to go back to work again. Unfortunately, as much as escape seems like an attractive alternative, at least you would have broken the routine. After all, that’s the main message to this story, it might be something that stays in your dreams, but it doesn’t have to.
As published in #1 of QueSt newsletter on March 2011.
- Michael Daaboul
(How would you benefit from this course? Why are you interested?)
Master of Creative Media (Creative Writing) will enable me to explore a field of study that has occupied my thoughts and progressively, infiltrated my subconscious for a long period of time now.
(Do you have any background information or education that showcases your interest? How about proven ability? This is a good time to include it now.)
After completing my 4 year undergraduate degree in Multimedia Systems, I have tasted the narrative hunger in courses such as: Content Design Project, Design for Interactive Media 3 and most notably, Writing Angles: Popular and Professional. My burning desire evolved and grew to new heights while completing the latter. A score of 86 (HD) was achieved for this particular course, which made Writing Angles the highest scoring subject currently on my academic transcript.
(You’re applying for a ‘writing’ course, why not use some narrative to help strengthen your desire?)
Writing Angles: Popular and Professional installed a wave of ideas and concentrated my understanding of writing through one channel. The course opened up different fields of creative analysis in my mind and aided my focus to craft a series of written work.
(Why do you like to write? Where have you written? What makes your writing significantly more interesting compared to other candidates?)
I have consistently used some form of narrative in my designs to accurately deliver a story that not only engages the reader, but sends their minds through a captivating journey back in time that pinpoints moments of epiphany. I write constantly, trying to find the answers to what philosophers have been trying to find in life. It is an endless engagement to find words that bring new meaning to storytelling. A way of relating, the source of comfort, writing gives the imagination an image for a world that words orchestrated to define a motion picture to animate in a still mind. Within my writing, I strive for the same blueprint and I only need to remember that to spawn inspiration.
(Consolidate your desire! Plead for a chance to see how bright you can shine.)
I decided that I need to take the road that leads into the world of creative writing. It is not only the next level I can take in terms of increasing the magnitude of my career prospects in narrative media, but it is the next step that I need to feed my personal development in the world of writing. I feel a perpetual stream of motivation and passion that I believe will play an important role for me to advance if given the opportunity to do so.
Another requirement needed to get into Master of Creative Media (Creative Writing) at RMIT University in 2009, this time a personal statement was required. There’s a few tips to follow when you’re writing your own as I have highlighted throughout mine just above my submission. Please treat this with respect as this is the original wording, like before, I have no problems sharing this with you as long as it’s respected.
- Michael Daaboul
I watched your lips move as you told me about how you were all alone. You told me that there was no other way, as your tears fell down from your eyes. Your heart did break in two; your thoughts were so confused.
Like a hurricane, it hits somewhere near home, it will not leave you alone. Like a hurricane, it has its own way.
It was not your fault. You did not know the truth. Everything was hidden away from you, everything that could have ever hurt you. It was kept far away, in hope that it could maybe protect you.
You had no way of knowing, like rain without the dark clouds on a nice day. You had a feeling it would be coming around, but you knew the rain would always fall.
You slowly forget over the years what made you like this. You kind of realised that nothing in this life loved you.
Joking about fate and the invisible pen that wrote your path used to stab your chest, you were just sick of losing.
It’s a cold feeling this pain, the icy wind blows warm air in comparison, but in darkness your aches can see.
Wishing I can turn your way, this highway is congested and it’s impossible to take you far away.
You wanted to play a game, but not the way life played you, like a hurricane, it had its own way.
By yourself at home
They attacked you
And left you all alone
A picture stuck inside of my head, a girl with a sad smile, her mouth moved and she said, "I have walked for many miles, this life, my whole life walking in denial. There has been little to no opportunities to hold someone or to feel like someone cared."
At times we want to find redemption in isolation but we are closing off the world. Sometimes running away and keeping a fair distance from the rest of humanity sounds too complicated to become a creative exception. But you still find yourself obligated to find a certain solution so you don’t have to suffer from confusion.
It hurts too much, this pain, all too familiar. So, you tell yourself, "How do I set myself free?"
As you walk alone in this world, with all these illusions, you find it hard to see.
Slowly fighting for perfection, everything you tried to do was lost, nothing came to you and when it did, it was at great cost.
You asked for help and you offered them your hand, but you soon realised you received nothing but neglect. Your hand retreats in an instant as if you touched the burning stove without knowing it had been on for hours.
Would you feel better if you just wrote them a letter?
At times you wandered in your maze of isolation. You tried closing off the world, but that didn’t keep you away from humanity. It is complicated and you realised you were not the exception. You weren’t that creative to find a solution, but you felt obligated to feel the confusion.
Would you feel better if you were by her side? You know, together?
Would you give her a helping hand? You hear this faint voice, "Don’t forget her."
Her head held high, with so much to cry as the tears drowned her view, her hope about to die.
Do you feel better? She feels so much better.
This letter never received, it was stuck between the Sun’s burning stare. Tears have dried up and she didn’t feel any better from all this crying.
Don’t forget her, you should have been together.
Taking a more philosophical approach to my writing, I want to explore the fundamentals of life through a different perspective. Narrowing down the essence of existence of human beings and analysing the possibilities for possible answers.
Either a series of abstract short stories or a novel based on the different emotions, behaviours and exact thoughts of everyday events and human psychology. An emphasis on appreciation and what is often left unnoticed because of the busy life routine.
This could also take a form of conversations between two characters asking questions and exploring answers about time, love, good vs. bad, various emotions, how people think in certain situations, death etc.
The novel will be a non-fiction debate over questions of life that are thought provoking and not obvious. They could spark from walking into town and viewing the surrounding and explaining and debating how all the strange things go neglected; the blind spot for everyday wanders that live there.
Research will need to be done on the psychology of different types of emotions and behaviour, concepts in philosophy and observing human interaction between social gatherings and other crowd populated areas.
One of the requirements needed to get into Master of Creative Media (Creative Writing) at RMIT University, a project proposal was needed to be submitted. This was mine back in 2009. I have no problems sharing this with you.
- Michael Daaboul