I was thinking last night--just before bed, as I was too lazy to write it down--about the act of creating art. I'm using the broadest definition of art possible here, whether it's poetry, photography, ceramics, dance, music, juggling... The differences between them all are negligible for this thought process. Basically all arts are skills. You get better at them the more you do. Yet there is a definite point when the artist first begins to practice the skill, where they possess what might appear to be a heightened level of creativity due to their inexperience in the field. In fact, many artists spend their entire careers trying to re-create that initial playfulness or creativity.
So then there are two factors that make a good artist--I would argue--"skill" or the practice of the art, and "creativity" or uniqueness of the art. A very skilled artist is almost always easy to admire, (depending on the art, I suppose, since high skill in some fields is imperceptible to the outside observer) but for most arts, someone who is talented is easy to spot. Yet this alone doesn't make them a master in their field. Examples of this are everywhere, from that really good cover band, to the painter who cranks out portrait after picture-perfect-portrait of nature scenes--and not good ones. I think you probably know what I'm talking about.
I think most fields talk about these ideas in their own semantics. And I'm not pretending to be an expert on any of this stuff. Last night I was just asking myself what I didn't like about this recent performance by one of my favorite jugglers (who is also a good friend of mine), and I realized that in this piece--and a few others I've seen--creativity is carrying the bulk of the load, and there was really no skill involved. (And believe me, there is plenty to tap!)
As an artist myself, in my poetry, I often leave out the skill portion of what I'm doing as an exercise. In fact, I was going to say I don't generally share the results of this labor, but then I realized that right there in my right hand navigation is probably the most frequent example of this--my mindblurbs. Thoughts without reason. Poetry without skill. A creative exercise I try to do at least once a day (and end up doing three times a week or so). But there they are, for everyone to see. I'm a hypocrite again, and I was feeling so smug, so superior. I was thinking to myself, he should never have performed that piece in public. Maybe it was necessary for his creative growth, but he should never have performed it. And if performance is to juggling as publishing is to poetry, I'm just as guilty if not more so. Where are my good poems? Where are my works of skill and creativity? Obviously not here.
I'm going to go hang my head in shame now. (or go to the bookstore, 'cause that's what I planned to do this afternoon anyway.)
Friday, June 07, 2002
Things are still fucked up here at work, and there is no development environment. I don't want to work on a live site, at least not without some kind of safeguard... I really should be doing the work I have to do offline, and then just upload, but DNS is hosed on that particular site anyway, so they won't even know things are fixed. (and I have to do _every_ page, so it's going to be tedious to say the least--maybe I'm just procrastinating.)
I've stumbled onto some really not-so-interesting blogs today. I also discovered The Sex Project which I may contribute to... but nobody really wants to see erotic male photos... (except other guys, but that's another story.) I'm not sure what the the reason for this is, I mean, it's a gross generalization, but I think there is some truth to the idea that men are far more visually stimulated or stimulatable than women are.
I think maybe I'll add links to other blogs on my site... I haven't consciously decided not to do so, I'm just not sure what the best method would be. This whole blogspot thing leaves me feeling a bit too not-in-control.. if that makes any sense. I think it's the templating system that's offputting, and I wonder how the templates work for Movable Type.
I've stumbled onto some really not-so-interesting blogs today. I also discovered The Sex Project which I may contribute to... but nobody really wants to see erotic male photos... (except other guys, but that's another story.) I'm not sure what the the reason for this is, I mean, it's a gross generalization, but I think there is some truth to the idea that men are far more visually stimulated or stimulatable than women are.
I think maybe I'll add links to other blogs on my site... I haven't consciously decided not to do so, I'm just not sure what the best method would be. This whole blogspot thing leaves me feeling a bit too not-in-control.. if that makes any sense. I think it's the templating system that's offputting, and I wonder how the templates work for Movable Type.
Thursday, June 06, 2002
Wednesday, June 05, 2002
If I have learned anything in this universe (in the last 24 hours), I have learned these things:
• It's good to understand how your php script works before you complain about weird "caching" issues and/or go about fucking things up in said script.
• Other people write better poems than you. (whoever you are)
• Business is business--that means it will always be run by stupid people.
• Some tricks are really really hard. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to learn them anyway, and in fact, makes it more fun to sort of half-learn them, because you can celebrate "almost-getting-it" that many more times.
• Old friends may call at any moment.
• If a game is released on a particular day, and you call a store that is open 24 hours at 11:45pm the night before, that game is not guaranteed to be in stock at that particular store until 10am. Especially if the store is Wal-Mart, and the game is Bomberman Generations, for the Gamecube.
• It's good to understand how your php script works before you complain about weird "caching" issues and/or go about fucking things up in said script.
• Other people write better poems than you. (whoever you are)
• Business is business--that means it will always be run by stupid people.
• Some tricks are really really hard. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to learn them anyway, and in fact, makes it more fun to sort of half-learn them, because you can celebrate "almost-getting-it" that many more times.
• Old friends may call at any moment.
• If a game is released on a particular day, and you call a store that is open 24 hours at 11:45pm the night before, that game is not guaranteed to be in stock at that particular store until 10am. Especially if the store is Wal-Mart, and the game is Bomberman Generations, for the Gamecube.
Tuesday, June 04, 2002
Sometimes, I think unix is like magic. Playing with configuration files and .rc files has to be one of the most fun things I've done at my job. It's especially fun to "source" your .tcshrc file and watch the magical changes happen! I'm sure this kind of thing would get old if it were something I had to do more than even once a week, but for now, I'm content changing my prompt on occasion... just for kicks!
This is similar to the way I feel about programming in general. I'd like to do more of it. I probably wouldn't even mind being assigned more of it, but right now--because I do it so little--I'm like a kid in a candy store playing with php...that is, until the big awful server caches your script in some naughty bad way, and you can't see your changes. Then I get frustrated, and want to kick the server. But my terminal doesn't allow for physical bludgeoning, so I take a deep breath... and wait. Maybe the comments will look better... someday.
This is similar to the way I feel about programming in general. I'd like to do more of it. I probably wouldn't even mind being assigned more of it, but right now--because I do it so little--I'm like a kid in a candy store playing with php...that is, until the big awful server caches your script in some naughty bad way, and you can't see your changes. Then I get frustrated, and want to kick the server. But my terminal doesn't allow for physical bludgeoning, so I take a deep breath... and wait. Maybe the comments will look better... someday.
Monday, June 03, 2002
My archives are totally fucked up, and I have no idea what's happening. I think it really is time to start using movable type or something. This is rediculous. Every time I go to the "archive template" area on blogger, I get a "page cannot be displayed" error.
I don't know what it is about monday mornings, possibly just that I never get enough sleep, but damn I'm tired, and I haven't been able to focus on much of anything yet. Plus, it's fucking cold outside (and rainy, which normally I would enjoy) and inside, where you would expect the temperature to at least reflect some amount of warmth, the AC is on! Are we fucking popsicles that we need refrigeration?
I feel like crying myself to sleep.
I don't know what it is about monday mornings, possibly just that I never get enough sleep, but damn I'm tired, and I haven't been able to focus on much of anything yet. Plus, it's fucking cold outside (and rainy, which normally I would enjoy) and inside, where you would expect the temperature to at least reflect some amount of warmth, the AC is on! Are we fucking popsicles that we need refrigeration?
I feel like crying myself to sleep.
Saturday, June 01, 2002
I am almost disappointed that the new moby album is good. I had kinda planned on not getting it, because I don't really like that song they're playing on the radio.
one thing I really hate: when a weekend feels like work. Tasks for this weekend: get groceries, wash clothes. OK, that's not that long a list, but Laura has about 20 things that she would like to tack onto it, plus, there are another 20 "fun" things we have scheduled (party tonight, unicycling and museum this afternoon...) I just feel crowded for time.
Here's a poem I wrote a few days ago... this is 2.0, and much more coherent.
=====
"Give us today our daily commute." -the faint
On the freeway swimming upstream toward work
morning after morning Hiroshima on 394
little pollution gas light on
velvet mufler--divine spedometer
nursing my clutch
addicted to airbag
humming to the radio
like some dashboard freekshow
safety-cracks in my sanity.
=====
the world is my crash-test-dummy. w00t.
one thing I really hate: when a weekend feels like work. Tasks for this weekend: get groceries, wash clothes. OK, that's not that long a list, but Laura has about 20 things that she would like to tack onto it, plus, there are another 20 "fun" things we have scheduled (party tonight, unicycling and museum this afternoon...) I just feel crowded for time.
Here's a poem I wrote a few days ago... this is 2.0, and much more coherent.
=====
"Give us today our daily commute." -the faint
On the freeway swimming upstream toward work
morning after morning Hiroshima on 394
little pollution gas light on
velvet mufler--divine spedometer
nursing my clutch
addicted to airbag
humming to the radio
like some dashboard freekshow
safety-cracks in my sanity.
=====
the world is my crash-test-dummy. w00t.
Thursday, May 30, 2002
Yesterday I had this completely impromptu blog-writer-get-together. Of course, I didn't even think of it that way until we started talking about blogs... I was just getting together to hang out with meghan, and she had apparently talked with mopsa earlier in the day about going to this (turned out to be fairly awful) variety show at the BLB. (Incidentally, I happen to know the person who designed and built the current BLB website, and wouldn't it be funny if mopsa and/or any other readers also knew that person!)
Anyway, we skipped out on the show after the second bad poet, and ended up (after briefly loosing each other) at pizza luce. (whose site I won't link, because it sucks ass). The topic of blogs only came up briefly, and mostly in the middle of one of mopsa's many anecdotes, but when it did, it felt rather odd to be actually talking about something that had, until that moment, been purely electronic. Behind the screens, so to speak.
I have talked a bit with Laura about my blog, but other than that, any times I've mentioned it I'm usually giving someone the URL. I have been, once or twice, surprised by someone mentioning something they read on the blog, but otherwise, blogging and reality have scarcely met at all. Blog, meet reality. Reality, meet blog.
I've had this experience before--in reverse--when I first got into webpages and stuff, I met this girl who lived in Iowa. We met at a con. She and I ended up having a (mostly) electronic relationship, but have met (with mixed results) in reality a few times since. Every time it's that same weird disconnect. We're not the same people online as we are in reality. I mean, we're the same, but we're not.
If I were being particularly philosophical, I would wonder which I'd rather be, but then I'd have to draw boundaries. (Are video games online/electronic reality, or reality reality? This gets especially blurry when you start to consider my recent ebay addiction.)
I used to be very into thinking about these kinds of issues. I read "life on the screen", "Hamlet on the Holodeck" and "Interface Culture" over 3 years ago! (Which now seems like an eternity.) I actually have a smallish collection of these investigations of the "new" electronic frontier at home, but it's been a long time since I felt they were pertinent. I guess there is another reason I don't tend to buy them anymore as well--seems like most of the new ones are all about money and/or power. Products of the failed .com era, I guess. I don't find them nearly as interesting, although some of the newer ones (about why it failed) are on my list... I find the personal narratives the most interesting, I think. Somewhere, under my facade of indifference, I'm a people person--an electronic-people person.
Anyway, we skipped out on the show after the second bad poet, and ended up (after briefly loosing each other) at pizza luce. (whose site I won't link, because it sucks ass). The topic of blogs only came up briefly, and mostly in the middle of one of mopsa's many anecdotes, but when it did, it felt rather odd to be actually talking about something that had, until that moment, been purely electronic. Behind the screens, so to speak.
I have talked a bit with Laura about my blog, but other than that, any times I've mentioned it I'm usually giving someone the URL. I have been, once or twice, surprised by someone mentioning something they read on the blog, but otherwise, blogging and reality have scarcely met at all. Blog, meet reality. Reality, meet blog.
I've had this experience before--in reverse--when I first got into webpages and stuff, I met this girl who lived in Iowa. We met at a con. She and I ended up having a (mostly) electronic relationship, but have met (with mixed results) in reality a few times since. Every time it's that same weird disconnect. We're not the same people online as we are in reality. I mean, we're the same, but we're not.
If I were being particularly philosophical, I would wonder which I'd rather be, but then I'd have to draw boundaries. (Are video games online/electronic reality, or reality reality? This gets especially blurry when you start to consider my recent ebay addiction.)
I used to be very into thinking about these kinds of issues. I read "life on the screen", "Hamlet on the Holodeck" and "Interface Culture" over 3 years ago! (Which now seems like an eternity.) I actually have a smallish collection of these investigations of the "new" electronic frontier at home, but it's been a long time since I felt they were pertinent. I guess there is another reason I don't tend to buy them anymore as well--seems like most of the new ones are all about money and/or power. Products of the failed .com era, I guess. I don't find them nearly as interesting, although some of the newer ones (about why it failed) are on my list... I find the personal narratives the most interesting, I think. Somewhere, under my facade of indifference, I'm a people person--an electronic-people person.
Tuesday, May 28, 2002
OK, I know, I know, I don't watch tv or read much in the way of news, but how come I've never heard of Hammacher Schlemmer before? I guess maybe they're just another specialty store, and it's not like I'm into those...
(Do a search for bicycle, and you'll find a bunch of jems, including a new one that turns into a unicycle!)
(Do a search for bicycle, and you'll find a bunch of jems, including a new one that turns into a unicycle!)
Tuesday. I've suffered the revelation that my life is a blur of the same old stuff. Stuff I enjoy, some of it--juggling, video games, movies--but stuff I really could care less about too--work, driving, eating, sleeping...
Some people really enjoy sleep. I find it cumbersome. I don't like it, most of the time. It's one of those things I have to force myself to do if I want to get enough of it, and I hate not getting enough of it probably worse than I hate doing it. They say our bodies do important things while we're aslep, and that's fine. I just wish I weren't so busy that sleep felt like an intrusion.
All that having been said, I didn't get enough last night, and I want to go back to it. ;)
Some people really enjoy sleep. I find it cumbersome. I don't like it, most of the time. It's one of those things I have to force myself to do if I want to get enough of it, and I hate not getting enough of it probably worse than I hate doing it. They say our bodies do important things while we're aslep, and that's fine. I just wish I weren't so busy that sleep felt like an intrusion.
All that having been said, I didn't get enough last night, and I want to go back to it. ;)
Thursday, May 23, 2002
This is one of those days where I feel like I'm walking around with blinders on. I can only see the thing immediately in front of me. I've never been good at multitasking, but today it's even worse. I get sidetracked by thinking about chocolate. I get to a logical stopping point in a project, and I stop, but not for any reason, just because I'm there. It takes me a few seconds to realize, yes, I have more work to do.
My brain is frazzled and stupid. This is not that unusual.
My brain is frazzled and stupid. This is not that unusual.
Wednesday, May 22, 2002
I have huge news. Last night I went to look at a house right off of LynLake. It was awesome, and we made a bid on it. I went to my mom's place, to juggle with Travis & AJ, and then went home to watch The Others with Nate. By the time I got home, Nate had already heard our bid was accepted! The house looks a little something like this:
I have so much work to do it's comming out my ears. So I'm getting back to that. blah!
I have so much work to do it's comming out my ears. So I'm getting back to that. blah!
Tuesday, May 21, 2002
I'm having "issues" with blogspot again. Page not found errors... And bitstream is falling apart at the seams... I have my email one minute, and the next it's all fucked up. Fortunately, they've got some really talented people down there, and I'm sure they're doing the best they can...
Today at work was this all-gage company meeting... we played "games" which were mostly trivia about the various parts of the company. It's actually a pretty amazing thing, when you think about Gage marketing as a whole--merely in terms of the volume and sheer diversity of work that comes through this building. Unfortunately, working in one of these cubes, on my stupid little projects, doesn't leave me feeling part of anything big or important. The opposite is more frequently the case, (if it wasn't already obvious.) I usually feel so separate from this whole thing. I want to get out. Run. Become a hermit.
I am not a drone. I am not a drone. I am not a drone.
*sigh*
I've caught the ebay bug. It's funny how I've used ebay in the past without getting addicted. I think I was always looking for something in particular, but that's how this started too... it was just something in particular that I didn't (strictly speaking) need, so maybe that's the difference. Video games are plentiful in the land of online auctions, and I've found a few pretty good deals. My SNES/N64 game-organizer should be arriving in the mail any day now. I'm pretty excited about that one. And I bought Kirby 64 because Laura likes playing Kirby when we play Super Smash Bros.. But last night I found myself staring at the screen long after I'd already checked my current auctions, surfing for everything, anything, something--things I don't even really want... but have maybe thought about buying in the past. I think maybe it's got to stop... maybe.
Today at work was this all-gage company meeting... we played "games" which were mostly trivia about the various parts of the company. It's actually a pretty amazing thing, when you think about Gage marketing as a whole--merely in terms of the volume and sheer diversity of work that comes through this building. Unfortunately, working in one of these cubes, on my stupid little projects, doesn't leave me feeling part of anything big or important. The opposite is more frequently the case, (if it wasn't already obvious.) I usually feel so separate from this whole thing. I want to get out. Run. Become a hermit.
I am not a drone. I am not a drone. I am not a drone.
*sigh*
I've caught the ebay bug. It's funny how I've used ebay in the past without getting addicted. I think I was always looking for something in particular, but that's how this started too... it was just something in particular that I didn't (strictly speaking) need, so maybe that's the difference. Video games are plentiful in the land of online auctions, and I've found a few pretty good deals. My SNES/N64 game-organizer should be arriving in the mail any day now. I'm pretty excited about that one. And I bought Kirby 64 because Laura likes playing Kirby when we play Super Smash Bros.. But last night I found myself staring at the screen long after I'd already checked my current auctions, surfing for everything, anything, something--things I don't even really want... but have maybe thought about buying in the past. I think maybe it's got to stop... maybe.
Monday, May 20, 2002
the audition on sat. went well. We all kinda tightened up and didn't talk nearly as much as we should have. That's the kind of thing only practice well alleviate, I think.
Work sucks, as usual. I'm debating the merits of working a night security shift somewhere. If I can make $15/hr, I'll be excited about the prospect. I just don't want to actually do anything. I'll bring a laptop and books.
The house purchasing has to happen first, since financing depends on my job. We'll see if I can hold out for a couple of months. We looked at about 8 houses this weekend, and weren't really excited about any of them. Slim pickings right now, I guess.
Work sucks, as usual. I'm debating the merits of working a night security shift somewhere. If I can make $15/hr, I'll be excited about the prospect. I just don't want to actually do anything. I'll bring a laptop and books.
The house purchasing has to happen first, since financing depends on my job. We'll see if I can hold out for a couple of months. We looked at about 8 houses this weekend, and weren't really excited about any of them. Slim pickings right now, I guess.
Friday, May 17, 2002
well, I've been ignoring this here blog for almost a week now. Chaos has ensued in nearly all aspects of my life. Work is... well, work. There has been quite a bit of blame-slinging lately, and I feel like I'm in preschool here.
The big news is that I'm trying to put together an "act" for the renaissance festival this summer. My brother and sister will be in it, along with good friends AJ and Travis, who I have known for awhile in a juggling context.
We've been getting together almost every day this week, despite (or maybe partly fostered by) the fact that I've been calling in sick, and sleeping till noonish every day. I really have been sick, although if I'd have known how sick--and how much work I'd miss--I probably wouldn't have taken monday off.
Not that I've missed working... I wish I lived in another country, where I could work 30 hours/week. I wish that were more socially acceptable here. If I could get away with it, I'd do it at the job I'm at now. I wonder if they'd let me... they'd probably make me hourly or something.
The big news is that I'm trying to put together an "act" for the renaissance festival this summer. My brother and sister will be in it, along with good friends AJ and Travis, who I have known for awhile in a juggling context.
We've been getting together almost every day this week, despite (or maybe partly fostered by) the fact that I've been calling in sick, and sleeping till noonish every day. I really have been sick, although if I'd have known how sick--and how much work I'd miss--I probably wouldn't have taken monday off.
Not that I've missed working... I wish I lived in another country, where I could work 30 hours/week. I wish that were more socially acceptable here. If I could get away with it, I'd do it at the job I'm at now. I wonder if they'd let me... they'd probably make me hourly or something.
Friday, May 10, 2002
blogs are truly fascinating.
I was at first disappointed to find out that Keep Trying (a blog I've been meaning to, but haven't visited in awhile) was no longer posting meta-comments about blogging. Then I read a bit of it, and--DAMN--it's all about the situation in Jerusalem and world politics. It's hard for me to remember that there are really horrifying things happening in the world around us. The worst part of my day is the agony of realizing my productivity level is at an all time low. I can't work, I can't seem to think. My brain is a puddle of disorganized thoughts melting into one another--sometimes something relevant will surface, but it's completely by accident.
And then this slap in the face. We're not all born with the freedom to post about our shitty jobs on the Internet.
I was at first disappointed to find out that Keep Trying (a blog I've been meaning to, but haven't visited in awhile) was no longer posting meta-comments about blogging. Then I read a bit of it, and--DAMN--it's all about the situation in Jerusalem and world politics. It's hard for me to remember that there are really horrifying things happening in the world around us. The worst part of my day is the agony of realizing my productivity level is at an all time low. I can't work, I can't seem to think. My brain is a puddle of disorganized thoughts melting into one another--sometimes something relevant will surface, but it's completely by accident.
And then this slap in the face. We're not all born with the freedom to post about our shitty jobs on the Internet.
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