Archive for May, 2007

Me and the C.H.U.D.s

Published May 21st, 2007 in brain and megaspection. 1 Comment

I had something of a first for me this weekend: my first long weekend as a real-life workin’ man.

I mean, like everyone, I’ve had long weekends before, but usually I haven’t really noticed their existence. I’ve either been in school, with stuff to do over the weekends, or working at the Press, where the work cycle never really stopped for long weekends, or we did our production on the day anyway, or I’ve been working service where I’ve either had to work the holiday, or my schedule was irregular enough that three days between work was nothing unusual.

This was genuinely the first time that I’ve had a three-day weekend and gotten paid (at least I think I’m paid) for the day. Even if I’m not, it’s the first day that I was supposed to be working, but wasn’t, and didn’t have to do anything to get the day off.

I almost don’t know what to do with myself. I mean, nothing’s open, and everything we needed to get done on the weekend, we got done Saturday/Sunday.

So I dug a hole.

Literally.

It was good times. We went to Wendy’s and got gooey, cheesy bacon melt burgers, to Tim Hortons for Iced Cappucinos (the only thing I will consume from Tim Hortons), and then ate it on the little pebbly beach at a park alongside Humber Lakeshore campus. Then skipped stones and walked the beach looking for interesting pieces of sea glass and masonry from the buildings that have clearly been demolished and dumped into the lake nearby (there were pieces of marble and tile flooring, not to mention whole bricks, as detritus on the shore). And I dug a hole in the stones. For no reason. It felt pretty good to have no real worries (there are still bills to be paid off and stuff to do, but the crushing dread of unemployment feels REALLY good to have lifted), and to have a day to genuinely relax.

I suppose that was the point of the holiday. I wonder if that’s what they’re all like.

So, (to steal a line from Beth) Happy British Colonial Superpower Day!

Addendum: There were fireworks/firecrackers going off at about hourly intervals around our neighbourhood this weekend. Looking out the window, I found something interesting. Everyone setting them off was generally of the non-white/British-descent persuasion.

I found this interesting, since it was Victoria Day, a holiday celebrating the monarchy of basically the biggest and most insidious colonial force of all time. So, most of the people setting off the firecrackers seem to be born of cultures who were more than likely in some way colonialized or oppressed by the force they are celebrating. Oh, and socioeconomically (though I am of course generalizing here), in this neighbourhood at least, these are also people from families who are most likely to be working a service or industrial job that would have them home without pay today. I could be totally wrong, but it just seemed a little odd to me.

Body count, rearview mirror

Published May 18th, 2007 in teevee and megaspection. 0 Comments

Quality TV dead this year:

Jericho
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Veronica Mars
Gilmore Girls
The OC
Rome

All eminently savable, only one really past its prime and ready to go (Gilmore Girls). Veronica did good to get its three years, I’ll take my DVD sets and walk away from the table. Rome and The OC were … I want to say basically the exact opposite of each other in almost every way, and victims of completely different business breakdowns, and I’d like to blame the deaths of both on Mishca Barton. I’m sure one case’d be easy to make stick, the other I’m just feeling like blaming.

Studio 60 gone means no more Ain’t It Cool reviews for me. Hopefully something decent airs a day early next year, I’ll take another stab. Luckily Julia has gotten me hooked on West Wing, so I’ve got seven years (five left to get through) of that to tide me over. Then maybe Sports Night, but my white-hot hatred of Peter Krause (thanks to the last season and a half of Six Feet Under) might prevent that from happening.

Jericho, which had intrigued me from the beginning, really ramped up over the second half of the season, creating a real, gritty and fascinating tale about the world’s most powerful nation forced to take a look at itself (through the lens of its most typical small town) and what it really was made of and believed in after getting blown to hell. And then they axed it in the midst of one of the biggest cliff-hangers since the hatch door got blown off, or the Cylons strolled down the middle of New Caprica City. It will be missed.

Reasons for hope:

Supernatural — I’ll keep calling it a sleeper until people watch the damn thing. One of the best hours going. Managed to survive in the toughest slot in TV. Great finale, one that understood how to give possible closure if no pickup came but still weave a compelling tale to pick up from.

30 Rock — I guess people were listening when I said if only one late-night-based show could be saved, make it Ms. Liz Lemon.

Galactica and Lost — Neither are quite where they were two seasons ago (though that kind of intensity is hard), but damned if they aren’t some of the finest storytelling I’ve seen in a while. People complain about both for not giving us everything while simultaneously keeping huge, labyrinthine mysteries. Cake, try to stick around after I’ve eaten you, please.

Surprises — And good to see some familiar standbys able to really pull out some great stuff. Numb3rs (the delightful Rob Morrow and David Krumholtz) just had a really good finale, with an honest to god twist, on CBS no less. I’m amazed they risked alienating their usual 80-billion year old audience by turning a good guy.
And CSI (the original, the only one that counts) has apparently kicked some ass this year, being all dark and twisty, hopefully we can catch some in reruns. Plus they had Liev Schrieber, my second favourite modern actor to play Orson Welles (Maurice LaMarche will ALWAYS be the first, even if it’s just for the voice), so how could that go wrong?
The Office too, loved loved loved the ending of the finale, and I’d even been tiring of it a little bit lately too. Steve Carell is turning into a bit TOO much of a caricature. I realize that’s the point of the character, and it was never going to be played as close to the vest as David Brent, but the cringe:laugh ratio with him was veering dangerously close to tipping the wrong way too consistently.
Heroes last. I expected to at least sorta like it, as cribbing from a bunch of my favourite sources (Rising Stars, Lost, X-Men) couldn’t possibly be THAT bad, and its admittedly shaky start smoothed out by midseason, and this home stretch has been stellar.

Letdowns — Grey’s Anatomy decided to blow everything up with no real good reason.
Veronica Mars (one of, if not THE, lowest rated shows on network TV) apparently decided NOT to hedge its bets and include a bit of closure in its finale, which we’ll see Tuesday — I’m hearing it may cliffhang a little. It would be a shame if pride prevented even a measure of resolution for these marvelous characters.
Scrubs just hasn’t been funny. At least not as good as its early reruns which I much prefer watching on SunTV to its new installments. I’m really sick of seeing Zach Braff pine for BlondeDoctor.
And the big, constant letdown of what the general public votes (with their viewership) to keep on TV. The fact that Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? and Search for the New Pussycat Doll are ratings hits (not to mention American Idol, Deal or No Deal, and that there is an honest to God bingo — BINGO — show airing tonight) just hurts my heart a little.

I think my writing is getting better. Cleaner. Must be a side-effect of doing it eight or so hours a day. *Edit: Or maybe it isn’t. I’m tired and it’s late. We’ll see how this actually reads in the morning.*

Why I love and hate my job

Published May 10th, 2007 in brain, muzak and werk. 2 Comments

A conundrum:

How do you gracefully ask this question (multiple choice, two of five answers are correct, but they do not have to be paired together to be correct)?

“A student may be immediately dismissed from class only if they jeopardize one of which two of the following?”

I’ve spent about an hour today (when I probably have other, more important, or at least bigger, work to do) staring at that single sentence, which I wrote, trying to figure out a more graceful way to say it. To say it’s playing havoc with my mild obsessiveness and affinity for language is understating things a little.

But seeing these sorts of things done incorrectly drives me bonkers, so being the one who gets to make sure it is correct before being plastered all over the world is also the reason I love my job.

P.S. I just discovered the karmic reason why the Old 97s have become my favourite band of all time.

I always knew Rhett Miller (the lead singer/songwriter) was super-literate and a creative writing fiend, but I never knew we shared so many similar obscure loves of beat-down Americana.

On top of the DeLillo references elsewhere, and the overall whiskey-soaked, dust-caked imagery all over their stuff, I just downloaded one of the few songs I was missing from their various albums, titled “What We Talk About.” As is What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, by Raymond Frickin’ Carver. Carver, the generally disliked (by Beth and others in my English classes anyway) minimalist who drank himself to death, and in whose stories not much ever happens, was one of my first literary caches.

It makes absolute perfect sense that he influence the Old 97s, and knowing it for certain now, I can see his soggy fingerprints everywhere.

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