Over the past few weeks I've had some little reminders about things in my past - good things, mind you...like how much time I used to spend drawing and painting back in school. Partly because Corrie is starting to pick that back up again, and partly because I'm spending more time with another one of my friends who is a very talented artist as well. So I dug through a few boxes, and found my sketchbook from college. Not the theatre one, the real one - the one where I drew in when I wasn't paying attention in class, or the one I drew in when I was so emotionally overwhelmed that I needed to get it out (this is before I started writing music myself).
Damn, where has all of my creativity gone in these last two years? I was really shocked by some of my own inspiration back then, and I wonder now if I could produce the same level of work. Maybe I was just more "in touch" with my creative side when I was surrounded by theatre and design all day every day back then, or maybe I'm just not giving myself enough credit for the work I put into my music business stuff now...now that it's just in a different form. But in any case, what really got to me wasn't the art.
It was my old script.
I had incorporated a lot of the lines from my play into my artwork. (If you've seen my ink drawings, a lot of it has hidden - or not so hidden - messages in the scroll work, or sometimes I used the words themselves to make the image.) In any case, it was very strong and strange to see those words again after having not touched that project since my junior year.
"At least I feel things. That's how I know I'm not already dead."
I think maybe it's time to finish this story. It might help things.
Moving on. Theatre was annoying today. I woke up feeling rather sick, so I dragged myself in to find two lights out - and no, neither were simple lamp issues. One light is completely toasted from what I can tell, so I had to pull that out and readjust some others to cover that area (strip lights on a cyc...yay). Then the other was a cable issue, so I had fun crawling under the stage, behind the fly rail, across the balcony, etc. to find the problem (because we can't just plug lights into dimmers that are nearby).
Chris, I'm sorry I missed your phone call. For some reason I thought you said May 21st, and not April. Because Easter weekend is in May, apparently. I'm an idiot, I know.
In conclusion, if anyone would like Scott Bakula's autograph, let me know. I might be working out at the gym with him sometime next week.
Damn, where has all of my creativity gone in these last two years? I was really shocked by some of my own inspiration back then, and I wonder now if I could produce the same level of work. Maybe I was just more "in touch" with my creative side when I was surrounded by theatre and design all day every day back then, or maybe I'm just not giving myself enough credit for the work I put into my music business stuff now...now that it's just in a different form. But in any case, what really got to me wasn't the art.
It was my old script.
I had incorporated a lot of the lines from my play into my artwork. (If you've seen my ink drawings, a lot of it has hidden - or not so hidden - messages in the scroll work, or sometimes I used the words themselves to make the image.) In any case, it was very strong and strange to see those words again after having not touched that project since my junior year.
"At least I feel things. That's how I know I'm not already dead."
I think maybe it's time to finish this story. It might help things.
Moving on. Theatre was annoying today. I woke up feeling rather sick, so I dragged myself in to find two lights out - and no, neither were simple lamp issues. One light is completely toasted from what I can tell, so I had to pull that out and readjust some others to cover that area (strip lights on a cyc...yay). Then the other was a cable issue, so I had fun crawling under the stage, behind the fly rail, across the balcony, etc. to find the problem (because we can't just plug lights into dimmers that are nearby).
Chris, I'm sorry I missed your phone call. For some reason I thought you said May 21st, and not April. Because Easter weekend is in May, apparently. I'm an idiot, I know.
In conclusion, if anyone would like Scott Bakula's autograph, let me know. I might be working out at the gym with him sometime next week.
 | Song of the Day: Collide - "Crushed" www.collide.net |
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