Wednesday, March 9

*crack the whip*


So far, my experience at RMIT has been a realization of some frustrations, and a lack of others. I'm still not at the point where I'm able to use any Adobe software in a meaningful way. I'm used to using paint.NET as opposed to photoshop, and FlashDevelop as opposed to CS5. What results is that I'm really comfortable using simpler tools, but when I get into photoshop and realize I have to adjust the hue/saturation in order to correctly fill a color in in a crisp way, I get frustrated. I feel like unless I take a good amount of time to familiarize myself with these more complicated tools, I'm going to end up continuing to fall back on the ones that are simpler, and as a result I am worried that I'll end up with a less professional end-product.

I enjoyed the animation, Balance, that Kate screened for the class yesterday. I think an environment like that would would make an interesting kind of social medium for play.

Some notes.

0) I have been asked to create/use a blog while studying in my program, so I'm just going to use this one as my space for reflection...that means more updates, I promise, Meemee (my grandma).

1) My cubital tunnel syndrome in my elbow is acting up. Will need to get a cortizone injection to continue my program sans pain, I think.

2) I duked it out with the elements of productivity all night last night, getting some animation taken care of. I finally felt like I was getting involved with games and animation after years of looking at them from afar. It's a small step in the right direction.

3) My dad has generously (and impartially) elected to use a picture I made for him on his blog, punishmentforglutton. It's the banner. Does this count as street cred, or something?

4) Tina and I search for a new house, as our flatmates half suggested we should go our separate ways, and half told us they weren't continuing our lease.

5) As a comment on what's been going on in course lately, it's been quite a rush--I've probably put more time into my work than I had to, but it's incredibly gratifying to study this stuff.

6) Poem:


I stayed up late, looking around on the wire,
reading nothing in particular, and not feeling any one way about it.
I was being conscious of my own existence;
it was one of those "I am modern man at leisure," moments
very self-aggrandizing, full of friendly juggernaut feelings, you understand.
And I thought, boy, it would be great to chat with
one of those old friends of mine, maybe some girl
I went steady with, someone I could really shoot the can off the fence with the beebee gun with.
Maybe then I could go to sleep, just for lack of anything else to do.
So I got on the wire, and everyone was there, ready to talk,
the exes, the acquaintances, the long-lost childhood buddies. The wire had even organized them
so I could see who wanted to talk about what, who was looking for sex advice, who just wanted to share some invaluable little piece of art.
And suddenly I thought look at all these people, who wants them,
I don't need to talk to them. I thought I was the needy one.

So I got off the wire,
and started to write, but then I thought, well, this is anti-social and kind of pathetic, even for three in the morning, even for the modern man at leisure,
so I went back on the wire,
but this time I put five dollars down on a good old fashioned game of poker,
and I put it all on pocket queens, and he had higher, and often you lose in situations like this. It's a classic thing in poker that contradicts life--often in life you are good enough to beat most people, and that will get you partial credit, except in poker somebody's always got you beat, and there is no consolation prize in poker. Anyway, that's okay I think, because somewhere someone can now buy a cheeseburger, I thought, even if it's some greasy type in a suit who owns a poker corporation, and I got off the wire and started to write again, feeling pretty good after all. The modern man is allowed moments like this, it's in his blood. He's got money he's saved from a previous job and it's not all gone yet, though some of it is, and he's got his quick eye on the big zero. From the lounge chair, I mean.

Anyway, that's when things started to get real nasty, because my girlfriend arrived on the scene--
of my mind, you understand, and I reflected on the last quarter's profits
and thought maybe we were in some kind of love-slump
because what is a slump, that's when you don't feel one way or the other, you're on the wire and you're off of it,
and everything is just so susceptable, everybody's ready to throw the first punch.
But then I thought we probably weren't in a slump.
Real life, real romance, is slow. It isn't any action movie, anyhow.
So I decided to go to sleep and forget about it.
That way I'd be safe. No one could blame the modern man for sleeping on it. Maybe it was just a mood.
It's so hard to tell with oneself, isn't it,
to guess the waves against the tides against the depth,
you've got to have experience in these sorts of things.
Anyway, that's when I started to get sleepy,
and wondered briefly before getting off the wire for real.

Is this what seperates us from the cavemen?
this two hours after your bed-partner goes to sleep,
and you lose five dollars and read nothing in particular from all around the world
and casually dismiss hundreds of thousands of hours of advertising designed to sell?

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