Dead end.

Have you ever had the fascinating experience where one not-quite-so-familiar tune edges into your head, and when confronted with a dead end a few beats down the road promptly segues seamlessly into another (usually more recognizable, and with the result of an absurd medley)? Of late I have found out that my brain, when confronted with "Ra Ra Rasputin" shimmies right on into "Hey Mickey"*. On a stranger (but more explicable) note, SJ's "Sorry Sorry" fuses into a string of Johnnies. By which I refer to that game where you slide your index finger along the digits of your other hand, reciting "Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny whoosh Johnny Johnny..." and so on, and ask someone to repeat after you or somethin'. It's not even a song. At all.

( This morning may have also seen a rare semi-lucid dream. )

* This goes something like "Ra Ra Rasputin/(assorted seven syllables)/Hey Mickey, hey hey, hey Mickey -". The change in voice is mildly disorienting.

I actually have a concert with the NUS wind symphony next Friday, but seeing as those are needing tickets priced at $12/$15, I'm not so certain about potential uptake. Still, if you're keen, just drop me a line - it's 7pm on the 23rd at Victoria Concert Hall.

More pertinently! I have caved and joined a Real Band, as various individuals have casually advised at some point of time or other over the past half a decade, and we're having a gig this Sunday, circa 7.30 pm opposite Cold Storage in Holland Village. 'tis part of the NUS CAC Guitar club, which always confounds people when I tell them no, I'm playing the drums, not the guitar. Kind of like being a percussionist in a wind symphony, actually. This 'un's free, and 'twould be nice to have some support!

Soo. Any takers, for my maiden non-classical performance, or is everybody overseas already? Oh wait actually there was the one random competition entry with Rachel and Ying and the tragedy of the Untuned Guitars and the literal rock 'n' roll drumset. Wobble and slide, more like. ...fun times!

So tonight's agenda ended up being art.

I quite like this little painting, though it looks awful minimized. Insufficient/inaccurate shading and slightly wonky feature placement is suspected. Still, 'm proud that it shaped up from starting as a brown blob, and with no direct reference to boot. Fun stuff!

Here, have a gander at intermediate progress shots, and see how weird it was. Granted, the colors turned that shade of red when I dumped it into Photoshop from Painter - originally picked colors were nearer the final. Pah, need to figure out how to maximize the compatibility for colors and whatnot sometime.

That is some dynamic graffiti.

Insert Coin from vurup on Vimeo.

Tiger's Tree

My magnum opus to date, at least as far as photorealism is concerned, some months and mixed up palettes later (this was such a pain). A lot more touchups I could do on that, but okay, enough is enough, think I've spent a hundred hours on this or something, for whatever reason. Still! It is done. I am satisfied.

In other news my body clock is severely twisted. On Sunday I got up at 1.15 am and today I'm sleeping past three? Hm. I still say 1-6 are the best hours of the day (night), however one gets to them.

The bulb in my (hostel) room is going to blow, but I can't be bothered to call maintenance to fix it, also I kind of don't want the technicians trampling over my bed - light's right above, and otherwise largely inaccessible. The only other light in the room is the table lamp, but that's awful glaring. In the dark it is, huh. Kablooey.

Because I promised to finish current WIP first, but starting on that takes hours at a stretch (yes I am very slow at painting, these days), and lost my working pencil in lit lecture (argh), other outlets start creaking open, one supposes! Here are the evening's drippings.

---

Untitled
I am not an artist
because I do not reach into the spaces between and grab
what lies dormant at the edges of consciousness
and lay it bare.

I am not an artist
since the forceful wringing
of unnatural understanding baffles;
fleeting whims, not mine to own.

I am not an artist,
for there is no point in I,
what would I represent?
One needs nothing to paint a picture.

I am not a poet
I am not an artist
because I do not dare.
i am not an artist
I am

---

Well fancy that, she thought to herself, idly shifting the weighty bag from right shoulder to left. She'd already - in such typical subconscious fashion, no less - begun to call it home.

---

Instead of being productive and working on papers/readings/tomorrow's presentation!!/anything at all I spent a fair chunk of today rigging up a little home for my new pet spider, to which I fed my previous roommate (daddy-long-legs, was inhabiting the upper corner of room. Or mommy-long-legs, considering the tiny mobile dots I found in her web shortly after) and will probably maintain on a diet of them moths we get in the shower. He's hairy and sort of shimmery green/gold over dark brown, and was lurking on my curtains, the little spy. So much for pets being illegal here, eh.

There is something faintly tantalizing about doing math and physics and other related things in university when one is clearly labeled an Arts Student; almost like the lure of the forbidden, or was it the unnecessary.

At any rate, it's very faint, quantum computing is going to implode my brain and my CAP - I remember doing algebra such a long time ago! And base-changing, even longer! though by far the best achievement of today was how I managed to fall asleep in the middle of qc lecture, sitting somewhere near the front of the class, with my eyes open. I know this because I was having a pleasant dream (forgot it now), then suddenly I was back in class, and my hand was mid-writing - I'd actually written during this open-eyed dream (it said "explain classes". I have no idea where that came from. A somewhat valid sentiment). Spiffing stuff.

Am back from Holland/Germany, and feeling awfully sleepy - thanks to getting off at one wrong station and reaching the airport past midnight, eating some dinner-breakfast hybrid and sleeping on the floor in a corner behind a dismantled bit of airplane for three hours tops before being told to cease this vagrant-like behavior at five - then getting overpriced coffee and waiting 'til eleven for a flight in which almost five movies were watched, lunch and breakfast were consumed, and very little sleep was had. Travelling is such fun stuff! Amazingly managed to get back with 40kg over the luggage weight limit, too (fault of instruments).

As for the results, surprisingly we placed third! It was the most embarrassing performance of my life, though: I can understand getting nervous and hitting the wrong timpani or forgetting what beat to play in, but knocking a stand of mallets onto the floor (okay, during a fast segment, we'd never rehearsed with trap tables there before) and forgetting to bring a stand with dismantled crotales over (this was a fairly new addition to the setup too. See what comes of not rehearsing movements) and then dropping a triangle stick was a bit much. In the latter the entire ensemble was ready to start when I suddenly remembered I hadn't moved the thing, and did so in full view of everybody. Also dropped more sticks and missed other things while running to and fro - not enough space in a seven person ensemble when them other bands have twenty or thirty players, 'tis ridiculous! Really enjoyed listening to the world division percussion bands after the performance, though; their sound was so full it was really deserving of the "band" designation.

And now, back to life in general. I don't know how on earth I'm going to get any modules tomorrow but we'll see what's left (thanks Hongling! Didn't have 'net over there though), I suppose? Bothersomely, managed to miss all USP preallocation exercises, oy. Also need to move in, preferably today, when dad is free to give a lift. Augh. Nap first, methinks.