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Tuesday, Jan. 14, 2003 / 9:59 p.m. ~On the Pleasures of Good Serialized TV Drama, and Continuing Onward~ Aside from the fact that I do obviously love serialized television dramas, I feel I must state that "24" is a fantastic example of the form. It's got espionage, intrigue, terrorism, attractive blonde women, office romance, action, gunfire, action and action, and oh yes, TORTURE! Do you know that hinting at horror, at disgusting acts of torture, without actually 'showing' them is a far more effective technique than fake blood and gore? Oh yes, the best filmmakers employ this very tried and true method. Last week's episode, the one where the torturer, dressed in his plastic overcoat, gloves, goggles (!), etc., held up a power drill, or sander, or something, and merely moved it in the general direction of his victim and it was up to us, the audience, to guess what he was really doing. We only heard the screams, saw the look on the face of the witness forced to watch, saw the blood spatter all the way across the room. And this week, seeing that same victim, dead now in a heap, covered with bloody plastic, a tub filled with bloody water nearby, the torturer washing his hands and his bloody rag, well, yeah, awful, horrible awful, and it's because we don't KNOW what he did to him, we only IMAGINE, which is much worse. But that's not what I like, it's the overall technique, the plot that just keeps thickening, the actual fact that according to the story this is all taking place in ONE DAY. One, yes, "24" hour period. At the end of every episode it's hand to the mouth, "OMIGOD" time. I love it. It's just such great TV. I don't understand people who disrespect televsion. It has so much that's worthy of adoration. "24", for one example, has fine writing, fine acting, fine camera work. Great, great, great. Dammit, I miss my computer, I really, really do. The political emails are coming at a fevered pitch. Bombardment is what it is. And I don't want them on this hard drive, so I'm accessing all my email from my ISP's web mail site. Pain in my ass. I talked to one of our programmers at work today, the guy from Pakistan, the guy who always talks to me about Thrashers hockey when he sees me, like it's our connection, the only thing we could possibly talk about. I told him, briefly, my situation, and he wasn't willing to get too far into it, said I should re-install Windows, and asked if my files are all backed up. Fuck no. I have photo files on that computer. Lots. And my MP3s, and my KaZaA, not that I couldn't download it again, but still. And volumes of email I've saved. No, I'm not going to lose it all. I finally was able to access the online PC at work, so I could print out some help text, and I think I can replace the HIMEM file, at least, if I get back on and get that same message saying it's missing. But that's just one step, there are others if that doesn't boot Windows. The Pakistani programmer says I should ask the computer dude, the other guy, the one who reminds me of someone I used to date, the one who gave me some RAM last year, or the year before (has he been there that long?). I've written about him in this diary, referred to him as 'computer dude'. But he suggests I catch him in a good mood. He is temperamental, but I like that about him. He speaks his mind. I was looking for the right time today, but I didn't find it. And anyway, I feel I'm close to finding the info I need to do it all myself. That way if I fuck it up I have no one to blame but me. It's a thought though.... Today I actually said, "I miss the lazy days of Summer", and I omitted the 'hazy' part, because I never miss the haze, but I do miss sitting in my cube, reading my Entertainment Weeklys, listening to CDs on my Walkman, writing multiple diary entries in MS Word, just because I had the time. Work has intensified, and it's challenging, but it's got me feeling so stressed I can't stand it. The new guy, the closeted gay guy, didn't show up yesterday. He's gone, and it feels weird that Kukla and I trained him for a week and now he's just gone, poof, with no explanation. Three more people are training this week, and luckily I haven't been asked to train yet. I think we get one more person next week and I'll probably have to be involved in that one's training. And, on top of the craziness, the new people, the intense phone calls (this is our peak season), tomorrow two people have scheduled days off. It will be HELL. Today I skipped coming home for lunch so I could get online and print out those pages, and then I went to McD's to get a sandwich using the free sandwich coupon I got the last time I went (they now give a free sandwich coupon if they take longer than 30 seconds at the window handing you your grub). The coupon wasn't signed by a manager though, so they wouldn't accept it, I paid anyway, no big deal, I'd noticed it myself but thought I'd try it anyway, I gave it to the manager and told her to give it to someone else, signed, and when I got to the window to get my grub she gave me a card anyway, signed. I don't know if it was because it took that long, or she was being nice, but it was nice. It made me feel a bit warm and fuzzy. Every little bit of kindness helps. So, I had very little time left in my lunchbreak (yes, there is a point to this long, rambling story) and therefore simply drove to a nearby shopping center (yet another mysteriously empty stores closed all around shopping center!) to sit in the parking lot and eat. Sitting, shoveling my Filet O'Fish and fries into my mouth, thinking how tired I am of being alive, how I don't feel I want to die, but I'm just worn out, it just keeps going and going, the maintenance, the getting up and going to work, the same things all the time, and I wasn't depressed, but I was examining, and ended up feeling glad that I have what I have, that I'm not in a much worse situation, that I'm not living on the street, that I have shelter, money, a car, etc. I ate, I started the drive back, finishing fries on the way, and whilst stopped at a light I saw a man rummaging through the bushes in the little shopping center parking lot 'island', looking for cans I guess. He was moving slowly, almost like he were drugged, or drunk, or ill, or just tired, like me. He went back to a tree, picked up a little sign there, made of cardboard, and he started talking to the person driving the SUV ahead of me. I think his sign said, "Please help", but I'm not sure. I reached for my new, signed, McD's free sandwich coupon, saw him walking over to me, reached it out the window and asked, "You want a free sandwich from McDonald's?" and he said, "Yeah! Thanks, Miss", and I felt really really good. I wanted to tell everyone, but I thought how wrong that is, I didn't do it so I would look good, so people would say, "Aw, that was SUCH a NICE thing you did!", I did it because that guy needed help, and I had a free sandwich coupon that I didn't really 'need'. Normally I don't like beggars, I don't give anything to the people who 'work' on the corners of the streets downtown, but this is out in the suburbs, a homeless guy hanging out in what was once a very affluent part of town, a part of town that can't keep a shopping center alive anymore. It was sad, and I felt sad, I felt just like him, that I was looking for something too, and just giving him a free meal was something I could do. Step outside myself for a moment in time. Did I mention I miss my computer? And that work is insanely busy? And that I'm behind about five issues in my EW 'scrip? That I still haven't read last week's free weekly paper? That I have so much to DO, all the time? I am tired, but I just keep going, you know? I just keep doing it. Cost of the War in Iraq
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