Apparently my Scumbag Brain is ensuring I get the least amount of sleep possible. Probably because it’s aware that I have shit to be doing and after 30in30-4 happened, I’ve been at a dramatic creative low, meaning that throughout the recent days, I’ve done very little stuff of any real meaning.
Last night was an ordeal, let’s put it that way. Not just thanks to the shenanigans of my brain, but extrinsic factors were also being a bag of dicks. Today was 42ºC during the afternoon, and by night it was still at 26ºC. Now, that sort of heat is uncomfortable for most Australians I reckon, but also bear in mind that I’m originally British. The melting point of your average Briton is 30ºC.
I was relatively lucky throughout the day in that I didn’t need to leave the house, and was able to stay inside with the air-conditioning going full pelt – but that still did not really help me sleep.
Hello all, I figured it’d be time to give you a bit of an update post, since I promised one roughly a year ago. 🙁
I do apologise for not actually uploading anything to YouTube like I said I would. I don’t know where this year went, honestly. Certainly it was a long, long ride, but at the same time, my god is it really over already?
I figure I’ll get down to basics: The last two years have certainly been eventful. I have been accepted into a prestigious university, made amazing friends, lived alone, travelled back to Britain, and for the first time in a long time I’ve had to discipline myself quite severely. I have also written a metric ton of music, which I’ll be writing about later.
For now I’ll talk about the educational side of things. For those not aware, I am currently undertaking a bachelor’s degree in Composition and Music Technology at Edith Cowan University in Western Australia. Where to begin with it. I guess at the beginning? I can try that.
So you guys are probably wanting to know what crazy crud I’ve been up to. To be honest, I wish I could say that I’ve been really dynamic and awesome and I’ve been having a gay old time in the land down under enjoying endless success and self-satisfaction.
It’s kinda my fault. I’m just not exactly the outgoing type. I never have been.
Nevertheless, my time in Australia (which has, as of this posting, amounted to just over six months) has been fairly enjoyable, if not quite the thrill ride you may have expected it to be for me.
Lately I’ve decided to expand upon my love of acting and join my family in signing up to an amateur theater. We’ve been hard at work on the musical “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas“. It is, to understate it slightly, a tad raunchier than a lot of the stuff I did in Drama at A-level. In fact, most if not all of the stuff I did at A-level was focused on little kids. Good old Bertolt Brecht and his “epic theatre” motif – his teachings still carry on to this day. And they basically boil down to “make the actors do really silly things because theatre isn’t real life and real life is serious”. I kinda wish I’d done something serious at A-level, but I’m not complaining. It was a really fun two years and I honestly wish it would’ve lasted longer.
I’ve never been too inclined towards watching musicals, let alone performing them, although I must admit it’s been pretty fun so far. Most musicals just seem downright cheesy to me, but the cheesiness is their selling point, really – the fact that all the actors burst into song every five minutes is what makes a musical. And the songs all have to be major earworms – once they’re in your head, not even repeated blasting of Metallica into the earholes can dislodge them. I still have no idea how it’s possible to make songs that “catchy”. In fact, they transcend “catchiness” – they’re “sticky”. Once you catch them, they stick. Like an unpleasantly persistent rash.
Talking of the songs, there has been a lot of dancing throughout this musical. I’ve only been called upon to learn one routine so far, and quite honestly, that’s enough for me. It’s not a case of me having two left feet. It’s a case of me having no legs at all – or at least, that’s what my brain is convinced of. For some reason, the connections between brain and leg all but cease whenever I command it to move in a way that synchronizes with the routine. It’s pretty simple stuff, too – stomp the feet, jog to the right, stomp again, jog to the left, spin, skip on the spot, etc. I can barely even manage that without beginning to look like a paraplegic penguin. And I haven’t even mentioned the part where my legs sort of just give up after a good while, anyway – at that point, using them just to stay upright feels like I have a couple of Slinkies for legs. I am completely out of shape. Or, if you like, I’m just in the shape of a morbidly overweight walrus with no sense of rhythm.
The singing is coming along nicely. Thanks entirely to our teacher’s methods and advice, there is definite improvement in my and my brother’s ability to control our voice. Although I probably still have a ways to go before I can confidently sing as loud and as high as Russell Allen. (Well, I can at the moment, but it would no doubt have all the musicality of a cat coughing up a hairball into a trumpet.)
Getting to that stage of vocal ability is probably going to take a bit of commitment. I’m rubbish at commitment, though. The truth is that I have numerous lists of all sorts of things that I should be doing, but I can never stay with them for too long before I distract myself with something else. Important stuff, too – like rehearsing properly for the singing lessons, and reading through the road safety manual I need to read cover-to-cover (and internalize!) so I can get my learner’s permit. I dare not think about how terrible I’d be in a relationship.
I mean, look at this blog. It went from one update a day (possibly more), to three months with only a handful of updates. Very quickly.
My brother and I have had a ginormous fiction/cartoon project in the works for the last 9 months and we still have yet to get the plotline sorted out. The most painful part of this affair is how I (and also my brother) have so many ideas just waiting to be realized, but bringing them into the world nearly always proves to be impossible, or more work than we’re capable of doing within a reasonable timelimit.
Having noticed that something was wrong with my motivation (for my musical output had also been suffering as a result of this lapse), I listened to the first episode of Ill Gates’ “Ill Methodology” workshop, in which he went on at length about workflow and motivation. There was a lot of really insightful stuff which made me think about the way I do… well, everything. He talked about extrinsic motivation (doing things for material reward or recognition) and intrinsic motivation (doing things for the love of doing them), and presented quite a lot of evidence for why being extrinsically motivated sabotages the quality of your output. I agree with him wholeheartedly.
I think it’s safe to say that pretty much everything outside of school that I’ve done throughout my life has been intrinsically motivated – in other words, I’ve hardly earnt a penny through my own labour (with the exception of a school project that culminated in 14 sales of an album CD I threw together). I haven’t really seen as that much of a problem, though – heck, often I hardly mind if I don’t receive a word of praise. I’ve just always felt compelled to do things like music, and modding for Doom, purely for the love of doing them, and not asking for anything in return. That makes me a good person, I think. (Alright, not entirely good. I still have my flaws, like being an overweight walrus-penguin.)
But if everything I do has been motivated by my own love of doing it, why do I still go through these horrendous spells of inactivity?
Mr. Ill (am I allowed to call him that?) said a lot of good things about keeping a schedule and a journal. Well, I haven’t been able to make a schedule yet, on account how just how much crap I have to get through, and I kept a journal of my days before coming to realize that every day was exactly the same. I talked about my dreams a bit, and I had a couple of really wacko ones when I started, but then they got hazy and I remembered only tiny worthless scraps of them in the morning. “There was a plane and it crashed.” That’s it. (Honestly, I dream waytoo much about planes crashing. I’ve only flown about half a dozen times in my life and I never felt nervous throughout the trip.)
Of course, the whole point of keeping a journal is to do it every day, and write pretty much the same amount. I honestly struggled to fill a page most of the time. I like to think of myself as a creative person, but unfortunately it seems I can’t tap into my creativity at any time. It just… happens when it does. This is why I’m frightened to condense my various to-do lists for my endless array of personal projects into a single schedule. What if I get caught in another spell of creative decay while I’m in the middle of it? If I try and force the energy out I’ll come up with something terrible and lackluster.
I.G. also said something about ensuring to wake up early to maximize your creative flow throughout the day. If you’re unimpeded by mental (and/or physical) tiredness, you simply work a lot more efficiently. Unfortunately I’ve recently fallen into a slump regarding my sleep discipline – I’m once again waking up around noon. You’d think that if I kept going to sleep earlier and therefore waking up earlier, I’d eventually get to the point where I wouldn’t be able to stay up ludicrously late because my body would simply be unable to. But it seems that that part of the deal doesn’t come with the effort I make to wake up earlier, so I end up back where I started.
So, I need to figure a way out of this awful circle.
I need to get my brother in on devising a solution as well, since he seems to be suffering much the same thing. We need to find a way of managing our motivation, and controlling our creative flow, so we can get shit done when it needs to get done.