Are you saying that I, Victoria, am not a Math Proof?
I, Victoria, am NOT an algorithm?
Are you saying that I, Victoria, am not a software program with hardwiring?
Are you saying that every single I time I write English Code on paper
That I am NOT writing software code for my brain?
That frames my mind to producing new spatial-temporal structures you deem as "Art?"
Are you saying, that I am not a living, breathing algorithm in my own right?
And that I'm not good enough to be in your ingroup
Simply because I don't have an extra computer glued to my hands and my mind?
When computers are invented by the same Homo sapiens biotechnology as me ANYWAY?
I think this is INSULTING to assume that I am not good enough for this department.
I am a piece of biological technology. My mind. My form.
My perception and interaction with my environment.
It's just a matter of you having the capacity to SEE it.
Dxmmit.
And Sorry. Dxmmit. I am a female, and I have emotions.
Dxmmit. I have EMOTIONS.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Two Songs in Two Days, I am on a Roll!
I have a feeling that learning code for computers is like learning molecular biology for reconstructing Reality: it's a layer I haven't gotten into... yet. I know user-friendly software. Wyziwig stuff. Photoshop. Final Cut Pro. But I haven't gotten THAT deep down the rabbit hole...
I am convinced that men are neurologically wired to have tunnel vision and stay in that. And females have a problem. Either they get depressed because their minds cave into a belljar (been there and done that, though I know my uncle was in a belljar rut for a while), but otherwise I do not have the capacity to maintain tunnel vision for long periods of time. So I slip through an hourglass. I contract. I expand. I contract. I expand. It's seemingly endless (though I am assuming my life is finite, but just an assumption, not a certainty). Like on a weekly basis I guess. It seems like male specimens are always in this tunnel. And they can be in a tunnel almost all their life, and be fine with it. My father the fire ecologist is partly in a tunnel, a very wide one, but still in a tunnel. I tried tunneling in high school. It ended up in sickness and my own near death. I guess with this widespread tunnel effect, it explains to a great degree why the university is what it is: divisive, specialized, not entirely so well connected, integrated, on common grounds and common language about the same systems we all share....
I wish people knew that when I write I am describing visions. I am framing my mind to see a certain way. And then after writing, I reconstruct the acoustivisions my mind creates. It's as if I am a biological computer. Writing is my computer language. Computer code. A book that framed my mind to be infinitely supplied with acoustivisual ideas for the rest of my life (a comforting thought, I am safe from boredom). So, I am a biological computer (which sounds frightening and unromantic to some people, but I am okay with this, my mind has come to accept my systematism that has some degree of predictability and some degree of uncertainty). My computer code is like left-brain language stuff. I happen to speak English mostly, with sparse French and Greek and my own made-up words. So there. When I apply to MAT (Media Arts Technology Department at UCSB), why do I have to know computer code language, when I am already a living, breathing computer that knows code and generates code such as to translate into multi-layered-multi-dimensional Reality, aka "art"... ?!! I'm just griping because I still have so much to do. I thought I was going to be an engineer at age 50. And how old am I? 26. That's kind of early. Accelerated learning I suppose. I am going to learn this code anyway because I am obsessed with fractals. All I do is take pictures of fractals. So, I told Dr. Legrady that "I have visions and I do whatever it takes to create these visions, which in the past has involved me isolating myself in a hotel room for 7-days learning obscure software programs, until I emerged from the cocoon and ... did it." So, if that be in part my grad school life, dxmmit I'll do it. I'll accelerate my knowledge. Not wait 25 years. And? Dr. Legrady said I'll be around engineers and artists and physics-like people. That's fine with me. I need to be surrounded by newness, and not be surrounded by the same old bullshxt I have been exposed to for over two decades with environmental-oriented scientists. And besides, I told Dr. Kawalek: if I want to write a stage script on the satire of environmental scientists and the university in general, it's best to not be immersed 24-7 around the very same people I am satiricizing. It's best to have some spatial distance, like a couple of buildings apart, you know?
Perhaps it's the driving to Ventura, and some dead time in the car, I have managed to construct a few songs in the car. One tonight--which is quite bizarre for me--but I created it.
That above is by far one of the most unexpected barfed out poems I have created in a LONG time. I guess I've been shaken up quite a bit today. And the second song I made came out, but is derived from a long poem I wrote (but not very singable). I guess this is the singable
So, that was poem number two. Okay. Enough. Back to work on the OTHER website. I feel so inadequate tonight, but I think this experience just makes me more determined to make my fractals I dreamed of making in the first place....
I am convinced that men are neurologically wired to have tunnel vision and stay in that. And females have a problem. Either they get depressed because their minds cave into a belljar (been there and done that, though I know my uncle was in a belljar rut for a while), but otherwise I do not have the capacity to maintain tunnel vision for long periods of time. So I slip through an hourglass. I contract. I expand. I contract. I expand. It's seemingly endless (though I am assuming my life is finite, but just an assumption, not a certainty). Like on a weekly basis I guess. It seems like male specimens are always in this tunnel. And they can be in a tunnel almost all their life, and be fine with it. My father the fire ecologist is partly in a tunnel, a very wide one, but still in a tunnel. I tried tunneling in high school. It ended up in sickness and my own near death. I guess with this widespread tunnel effect, it explains to a great degree why the university is what it is: divisive, specialized, not entirely so well connected, integrated, on common grounds and common language about the same systems we all share....
I wish people knew that when I write I am describing visions. I am framing my mind to see a certain way. And then after writing, I reconstruct the acoustivisions my mind creates. It's as if I am a biological computer. Writing is my computer language. Computer code. A book that framed my mind to be infinitely supplied with acoustivisual ideas for the rest of my life (a comforting thought, I am safe from boredom). So, I am a biological computer (which sounds frightening and unromantic to some people, but I am okay with this, my mind has come to accept my systematism that has some degree of predictability and some degree of uncertainty). My computer code is like left-brain language stuff. I happen to speak English mostly, with sparse French and Greek and my own made-up words. So there. When I apply to MAT (Media Arts Technology Department at UCSB), why do I have to know computer code language, when I am already a living, breathing computer that knows code and generates code such as to translate into multi-layered-multi-dimensional Reality, aka "art"... ?!! I'm just griping because I still have so much to do. I thought I was going to be an engineer at age 50. And how old am I? 26. That's kind of early. Accelerated learning I suppose. I am going to learn this code anyway because I am obsessed with fractals. All I do is take pictures of fractals. So, I told Dr. Legrady that "I have visions and I do whatever it takes to create these visions, which in the past has involved me isolating myself in a hotel room for 7-days learning obscure software programs, until I emerged from the cocoon and ... did it." So, if that be in part my grad school life, dxmmit I'll do it. I'll accelerate my knowledge. Not wait 25 years. And? Dr. Legrady said I'll be around engineers and artists and physics-like people. That's fine with me. I need to be surrounded by newness, and not be surrounded by the same old bullshxt I have been exposed to for over two decades with environmental-oriented scientists. And besides, I told Dr. Kawalek: if I want to write a stage script on the satire of environmental scientists and the university in general, it's best to not be immersed 24-7 around the very same people I am satiricizing. It's best to have some spatial distance, like a couple of buildings apart, you know?
Perhaps it's the driving to Ventura, and some dead time in the car, I have managed to construct a few songs in the car. One tonight--which is quite bizarre for me--but I created it.
Algorithm
I am an algorithm
I am a software program
Underneath some hard wiring
Th'all needs chronic fine tuning
But can you crack my[the] code?
Can you break me apart?
And then to reconstruct
As me into a work of art?
Computer biosystem [ecosystem]
Uncanny systematism
Some degree of predictability
And-the-rest infinite uncertainty...
I am in self-programming
Always underneath
That is in great need
Of-some basal rewiring
That is in great need
Of some [primal] rewiring...
I am an algorithm
Can you crack the code?
For I need some rewiring
Can you crack the code?
For I need some rewiring
I am an algorithm
I am an algorithm
Can you crack the code?
For I need some rewiring
Can you crack the code?
For I need some rewiring
I am an algorithm
I am an algorithm
I may not know your code, right now
But I can create your art
I may not know your code, just now
But I can partake in your art...
But I can partake in your mind's heart....
That above is by far one of the most unexpected barfed out poems I have created in a LONG time. I guess I've been shaken up quite a bit today. And the second song I made came out, but is derived from a long poem I wrote (but not very singable). I guess this is the singable
Playing with My Memories
Ostracized, in isolation
Far away from civilization
An inhumane humanity
Driving me like a machine
So I run, run far away
To another time, another place
Until, until I could only hear
Just the ringing in my ears
Until the thumping of my heart
Kindled my gaze to the [evening] stars
Until the expansion of my lungs
Rolled my form to the morning sun
Until, until it's only me
Playing with my memories
Until, until it's just only me
Playing with my memories
In a vast landscape empty
From the human entity
In a vast landscape empty
From the human entity
My blank slate mind revealing
To rebuild my shattered being
My blank slate mind revealing
To rebuild my shattered being
Until, until it's just only me
Playing with my memories
Until, until it's just only me
In a vast landscape empty
Until, until it's just only me
To rebuild my shattered being
Playing with my memories
Rebuilding my shattered being
Playing with my memories
Rebuilding my shattered being...
So, that was poem number two. Okay. Enough. Back to work on the OTHER website. I feel so inadequate tonight, but I think this experience just makes me more determined to make my fractals I dreamed of making in the first place....
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