journal.wiredreflexes.com

So, last week Marco decided to sell the house. This means I’ll have to move.

For those of you that aren’t aware, Marco is one of my best friends, who decided to move to Texas about five years ago now. Right before he made that decision, he had bought a house in a rather prestigious part of Hoorn, the town I live in right now. He wanted to keep the house, at least for a little while longer, so that he could return to the Netherlands if things didn’t go according to plan. Made great sense at the time.

I was just out of college and I needed a place to live, so with Marco leaving and still paying the mortgage on the place, and me needing a place to stay, it was quickly decided that I would move into his house, to keep it occupied, to keep an eye on it, and to relieve the financial burden on Marco. It was all supposed to be temporary, but since then, four or so years have passed.

In the meantime I’ve had two housemates, one being my cousin Kim, the other, more recently, being Samantha. Samantha moved out a few months ago, and got a great little apartment on the Brouwersgracht in Amsterdam, right across from my work, incidentally. The two of us were basically carrying the brunt of the cost for the house, and Marco was pretty happy having two people that he trusted living in his house and paying off his mortgage for him. When Samantha left, he had to start paying half the mortgage again, and, well, I guess it wasn’t worth it anymore, so he decided to sell the house. I completely agree with his decision, in fact, I have encouraged him to sell a couple of times over the years.

But now I’ll have to find a new place to live. I want to move into the city, simply because my work and friends are here, and here’s where I spend most of my time. The only things I have in Hoorn are my mother and Kung Fu. Despite Moulsari’s objections to my logic in a previous post, I think I’ll free up a significant amount of much needed personal time if I manage to move into the city’s centre somewhere. I’ve asked around, and I’m trying to find a flatmate, simply because with a double income you’ll be able to find a nice place that much sooner.

So far I’ve generated a few leads, non of them very attractive, but hopefully things will pan out once I really start putting some effort in. I’ll keep you posted.

Lately, I’ve been making a lot of long days at work, trying to get different things done on time. I’ve been doing an average of about 55 to 60 hours a week, which equates to about 11 or 12 hours a day, not counting lunch and travel. Including that, I’m busy with work about 14 hours a day, giver or take. Seeing as how I’d like to sleep about 7 hours, that leaves me with a grand total of three hours of relaxation time each weekday. If I didn’t have a social life to upkeep, where I spend time with friends, family, and my girlfriend, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. If I didn’t have all these small projects that I want to spend time on, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. If I didn’t strive towards doing some physical excercise, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

And that’s where the trouble lies the most; On a good week, I spend about four and a half hours doing Kung Fu (90 minutes on Wednesday evening, and 90 minutes on Friday evening, and 90 minutes on Saturday morning), but Wednesdays is usually right out, and by the time it’s Friday, I just don’t feel I have enough energy to really go all out. Saturdays I mostly teach young children; two groups, one aged 5 to 9, and one aged 10 to 15. It’s strenuous, but it’s not the same as excercising for your own benefit.

Honestly, I don’t know if I could handle the responsibility of children with such a busy schedule. I’m going to see if I can cut some corners somewhere. Hopefully moving into the city will save me the daily 90 minutes of public transport hassle.

…you look around to see that you’ve lost everything.

A God, I tell you! A God!

I may post this rant on Bulldrek, or on my own forums, but for now, I just want to rant. Nobody to argue with, just ranting. Just pure, unadulterated rantation. Me, being of sound rantage, and my journal, being my Medium du Rant.

I want to talk about art, or rather, about a recurring discussion I have with Moulsari about art. She’s an artist, you see, and she knows a lot of stuff about other artists, their work, and the meaning of art. But there is one thing we vehemently disagree on; I say art has a function as a carrier of information. She says that art isn’t always about information and that art, sometimes, is just something pretty to look at. Actually, I’m not doing her stance much justice in the way I’ve worded it, but let me just say that she makes a strong case.

From the very first pieces of human art, to the latest, greatest, true modern art, it has always carried a message. Carried information. Pictures speak, which is why cavemen started doodling on the walls of their caves. Wooden figurines, icons and statues were widdled from pieces of wood, and patterns were drawn in sand. This was all done with a purpose, and in every inception of art, of creation, there is purpose. Sometimes the purpose is subtle, sometimes even so subbtle that nobody except the creator understands the message. To be quite honest, I seriously dislike the idea of creating something that nobody understands. Sure, subtlety is nice, elitism can be understood, but something that nobody understands is…well, odd. I mean, sure, certain artists might use their art as a medium to express their troubled minds, inadvertedly leaving everyone baffled and confused, but their expression is like reaching out…they’re trying to communicate to the world. Sometimes they make something that is so deeply personal that they won’t share it with the world, and they keep it to themselves, as a reminder perhaps. In these cases, they express themselves and decide not to share it. Like not sharing a thought, for instance.

But when you do share something, make sure that the person you’re trying to reach understands what you are trying to say. There is no point in sharing if the other doesn’t understand. You might as well have said nothing.

Some people think that art is about pretty things. It’s not. Nine out of ten pieces of art are, aesthetically, really ugly. They usually give an impression of something. They convey information about a forgotten era, about the personality of society, or they give an impression about the state of mind the artists were in. But art is never just pretty. It’s always more than just fucking pretty, it’s about information, and the transfer thereof. The sharing of knowledge and wisdom.

Now we get to the discussion Mouls and I often have. She will often show me websites that she considers artistic, creative or impressive. Usually, I end up saying that those pages are about form, not function, and that the function of a webpage – and the function of art – is to convey information. Especially webpages are about information, sharing information. The whole medium was born from information, as were all other media, including art! It’s all about sharing knowledge and wisdom, and if you create a webpage that is just nice to look at, and has no function other than being beautiful, having shit navigation, an incomprehensible theme, or something else “artistically trendy,” then it’s dead. It’s nothing. You’ve created thin air that anyone will be tired of in mere seconds.

The Internet is about information. It’s a medium to pass on information from one computer to the next, and from your computer to your senses, and from your senses into your brain. Art is about information. It’s a medium to pass on information. Art is not about beauty, it’s about truth!