Light and Weight

In my backpack, I’ve been carrying some manner of a spiral-bound paper journal with me everywhere since 1991. It contains my darker, more personal journal writings, stuff that doesn’t need to see the light of day (or the long tail of the Internet). I’m nearing the last blank college-ruled page of my current spiral notebook, and I’ve been considering a change in tactic.

Most of my writing goes here (most of the safe, public stuff, anyway), so I’ve been writing in my paper journal a lot less than I have in the past. In some respects, I’m fine with that. It’s easier to type than it is to write (much to the dismay of my hand muscles that cramp when I pen a full page), and a website has no weight beyond the electronic device I use to publish, which currently is a subcompact laptop that I also carry in my backpack everywhere I go.

But I’ve also been toying with the idea of drawing more. I carry fine-point pens and a marker; have for years, but I don’t always carry a blank, no-rule notebook. To do so adds to the weight of my pack, and increases the number of items I have to keep together when moving stuff from the backpack to a messenger bag.

So I’ve been wondering if I should mix the two and start journaling in a blank sketchpad, interleaving the writing with the artwork. The sum total of my creative handiwork in one place. A journal notebook in the classic sense. It’s a multi-modal form of self-expression, and since it’s my dark journal, I can make dark drawings, foul stuff, and it’s OK. It has absolutely no requirement to be work-safe or shame-free.

But that’s just the thing…if I draw alongside my writings, what if I make a drawing I’m so fucking proud of, I want to show the world? Well, right next to it (or easily seen through the back side of it) could be some of the most embarrassing bits of writing. I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to consider. I’ll police the sketchbook just as tightly as I police the journal.

Just a thought.

Nine and One Half

I can now say that I’ve seen “9 1/2 Weeks” (1986).

I can also say that if I had seen it in 1986 (or anytime shortly thereafter), it would’ve changed my teenage world and influenced my ability to pick up chicks. But I would not have had the maturity or the sensitivity to pick up on the subtle undertones, themes, and flaws of the characters. There’s a whole lot going on under everybody’s hairline to drive them to their ends, and that requires a lot of work reading the tea leaves in everybody’s cup. In reality, nothing plays out along scripted lines.

The sexy parts would’ve influenced my young life, but that’s all I would’ve picked up on. And to model myself after the male lead (which I would’ve internalized and tried to live out) would’ve turned me into a creeper of the highest order. In a small town, that would’ve been magnified to the wrongest extremes; a small-town fool doesn’t have the worldly tools or the broad vision to gauge motives or appearance. Really, a character as flawed as Rourk’s requires a big city, a compressed distance, and a sizable income to support The Lifestyle without being “that dirty guy”.

Good thing I’m a grown-up now and can tell the difference.

Thin Wall Holds Everything Back

Thumbing through my mental notebook on reasons why my music project suffers as much as it does. It occurs to me that the sound is dull, lifeless, muted. A song could be full of big sound, and I could be using the fullest extent of my mixing and mastering skills to date, but the final product is flat, smooth, without breath. Sure, it might be pretty, but it seems the more energy and care I pour into the mix, the deader it is.

My song “Cine Ratto” was done in one, maybe two nights. One single instrument with as little production on it as possible. Fixed a few notes here and there, but the tracking and mixdown was done as fast as possible; it was only supposed to be a musical idea, after all, not a real song. And yet it is my loudest, brightest, shiniest piece of work. I just didn’t care as much; as long as I didn’t blow the 0dB levels, pump it.

But what about the rest? What about “Parting Moments“? It’s a pretty song, and I actually felt strong emotions while writing, tracking, and mixing it. But the final mix when played on a typical consumer stereo? Dull as children’s scissors. I tried like hell to get it as loud and bright as possible, and I succeeded in some sections. But in order to not hit the 0dB wall where clipping occurs, I used compressors and limiters all over the place to raise the volume and increase the decay tones, but all that did was chop off the snappy impulses and muddy the mix. The overall result requires the use of nice headphones or a pro-grade stereo system (and a quiet room) to get the nuances and breath.

So why are my songs so quiet, so muted, so pretty? There’s no noise, no bombast, no life. Why? Because I’m timid. I have an excellent pair of studio monitor speakers, a beefy amp to drive them, but I hold back on the volume when I’m monitoring and mixing, usually opting to use headphones. I play nice long chords. I seldom use the drum machine because that’s noisy even with headphones. I don’t want my neighbors to hear it and complain. I’m compelled to make music, but abashed that other people will have to hear it. What I’m doing is going belly-up, being the bottom dog, and the music I make suffers unbelievable indignations because of it.

I’d love nothing more than to resolutely stand my ground, swing my swagger, and pump the music for hours when I’m working on a piece, but the reality is a lot more shameful. I want to be blameless in the neighborly-noise cold wars that are part and parcel of apartment living. So I timidly hold back.

IntroverTED

Not sure if you guys have figured it out, but I’m an introvert. Thought I should share that. More a confession, really, but a confession in the way that a congregant confesses his sins to a priest who already knows the congregant commits sin on a daily basis. I require plenty of time alone to process the stimulation, and I’ve been getting a watershed of stimulation this week. I need to vent, but I don’t need the quid-pro-quo of normal conversation. Extroverts call that sort of behavior “selfish”, but there it is.

Tonight, during my solitude, I watched Sir Ken Robinson’s TED talk about education killing creativity. It’s a true fact (yes, I watched it). STEM is only half the picture; there’s an entire set of humanities and kinesthetics that’ve been overlooked. Maybe I’m more physical than I thought; certainly find myself thinking more clearly and creatively after a walk. Education in this country is designed to produce not smart and engaged people, but industrial workers and college professors. Professorship is the high-water mark of education, and this is wrong.

I was highly creative once upon a time. Eventually, I was cured of that. Now I require the excesses of alcohol and solitude to let it return. It’s a terrible shame.

I want a culture that celebrates the variety in culture before I’ll allow myself to stare at a window and daydream without worry that someone will think I’m slacking off. That’s more important to me this week now that I have a new job and a new manager who works near my desk. Even at work, I require downtime to let the wetware in my head put two and two together to create new ideas and a sense of purpose. Hopefully his heavy workload and high stress won’t color his perspective on my activities. Best I can hope for is the right metrics to speak well of my performance.

Smart Monkey

Second day of my return to work. Back at my old company as a contractor. Once again, I’m a smart monkey.

It’s not super-exciting-omg-yes, but it’s work. New lab, new team, new job functions: somewhere in the company, somebody wants to know how the data buses leaving the CPU behave electrically, and it’s the job of my team to use high-cost test equipment to find that out. I’ll be doing some of the actual execution of the work, at least for the short term, but during the downtime between product cycles, we’ll be planning ways to automate a large chunk of the test flow. My job during those periods will be to help write the code to manipulate the test equipment automatically so the not-so-smart monkeys can set it up, click Go, and have data by the morning.

Although I’ve been at the company in some manner for over five years, the learning curve in this lab is still a bit steep. I’m still battling with getting my badge to work on the doors, waiting for my login info so I can actually use my computer, and I still have to get all my email and work profile and all the other onboarding stuff done before I’m established enough to learn who’s who and where I fit in. First-week blues. And I know there’s a lot of work ahead of me, so I’m not really celebrating. I’m just relieved. Once I have a few paychecks in the bank, then I’ll consider letting my hair down for a moment (but only for a moment; I have to retire to bed early now).

Yawn.