A good Open Mic last night. The latest night to date, it finished at 23:30, and with two new acts; a poet Martin C and singer songwriter Hilary Wilson. The majority of the music was original, though among those there were a few repeats. June Holland's 'What I Told My Boss' was better than ever, so a welcome repeat. Nick was his usual bungling self, his stage persona modelled on Mr Bennett from Take Hart.
I was pleased enough with my performance, though always find things to improve. I need to relax into it more, this seems more difficult for me now. I generally don't (or ever) get nervous performing, but now increasingly seem to. It's hard to say why, but the events I'm part of are now larger, they matter more to me perhaps. Before I didn't care. I play best when I consider it a sharing or a showing environment, not 'performing'. I must remember this.
My mood has been very low recently, and I felt detached for most of yesterday. Low mood is usually a matter of feeling unvalued, or undervalued. Of course, this has always been my case. Few would notice or care if I vanished now and forever, but I myself know my value, or of its existence at least. It's my job and duty to do my best, be my best, help the world and universe as best I can. 'Feelings of appreciation' are the ultimate causes of all happiness, and lack thereof all unhappiness, and yet are never accurate. Even ants change the world permanently and forever, yet themselves (probably) never know it.
Life is short, we have only a limited time and set of skills and resources to do anything. We can't do everything, we can't do nothing. We can only do our best and try to keep doing. The feelings of appreciation will (hopefully) flow if we help someone directly and personally, but we can also help people impersonally and indirectly, distantly. Those forms of help are the hardest to perceive, and perhaps the more important historically 'in the grand scheme of things'. Still, we get more than the emotional rewards from personal acts, they lead to social rewards and money, and the latter acts normally do not, as Vincent van Gogh will attest, an artist who has helped countless millions, but only after his impoverished death. He is a poor role model in many respects, but is a good one as an icon of hope.
The situation reminds me of the question whether it's better to be rich or famous, but the dichotomy is false. The poor are friendless because friendship is a form of wealth, and the skills of friendship inevitably lead to financial security too. One is either both or neither.
The people at the open mic were kind last night; generous, complementary, a nice group of people in every way, as most artists are. I wish I could have enjoyed their company more, yet the performance arrangement, the programme, limits interactions to quiet listening and a few brief exchanges.
I remained stoic today, and filed last night's event. Then started work updating Firefly. This was much easier than updating Bool because the sprites use a linked list like my contemporary engine, it's much more modern as a game. Here's a screenshot of the new version:
One thing it does differently is merge all of the maze blocks into one huge object. This makes it more efficient than printing up to 900 blocks separately. I had to update the new engine to preserve this. Generally though, in 2 hours I've got the game working with most of the new features. I'll spend tomorrow fixing up a few more aspects, then can file it and plan possible upgrades.
I had an email about the mural installation. The weather for the next week is forecast to be rainy and these annoying prods to gaze at the sky cause great stress. I'm happy and ready to paint it at any time (although, unless Deb happens to be free, I must work alone, carry everything 2 miles to the site, and have no site security while there - this too is a cause of anxiety, I have a limited set of days I can comfortably work). I seem to be prodded to jump to start with hardly any notice. David and I really need a dry week, which is unlikely until May. Well, we'll see what the weather offers next week.
Onwards we roll our rock. Onwards to the next great peak, that one tinged with golden light.
