July 2005

Die, old job, die.

Or why I hate to be spoon-fed information.

This is a partial rebuttal to a blog entry made by John, who should also be smacked for not loving A Bug’s Life, but that’s another argument for another day. In this case, I won’t even be commenting on the Star Wars issue, as I think John is actually speaking to two different “problems” in media.

This could also be entitled, “Why Television Is Not Film and Should Not Be Treated As Such.” Getting into that idea a bit, I’d like to point out that while I graduated as a film studies major (focused on the philosophy of film and its implications as a means of visual communication), my intention was to attend graduate school and study the influence of the medium of television on the language of “film” (which is, in the case, the ability to tell a story in a visual, recorded medium, and not necessarily movies) and that specific impact on popular culture and the interpretation of media in general. Poncy, ain’t it? What this all boils down to is the idea that television is “just as good,” if not better, for broad story-telling than film could ever be. Emphasis on the “broad” part. Do not mistake this as my railing against the film industry or what’s come out of it. I am still a firm believer in the power of the movie motion picture.

On to Firefly. I must begin here (with permission to quote our AIM conversation), with what I believe to be John’s basic premise. That there are “tv-isms that [he] find[s] irksome,” but that he enjoyed Firefly despite these problems. [Insert ridiculously pretentious but appropriate William Faulkner quote here.] Television falls into the pattern of anticipating act breaks (four in an hour-long drama, to account for commercial breaks unless you’re HBO), and a well-written television series will also bridge the other gaps between episodes in a way which, were you to watch everything with no breaks, an entire season of television is, essentially, a 968 minute movie. (22 episodes @ 44 minutes each). This is especially so for a Joss Whedon show, which offers broad character development over long-reaching arcs. (See Buffy 3.22, “Graduation Part 2,” Faith: “Little Ms. Muffet counting down from 7-3-0.” foreshadowing Dawn’s appearance 2 years (730 days) later .) I think that working in a “less-than-one hour time slot because of commercials” (John) is not a disadvantage, and can even be an advantage in character development. It’s a mistake to look at a television series like Firefly as many episodes stitched together. It’s more like many pieces of a puzzle, being slowly revealed to form a whole picture much greater than any one or two pieces individually.

In Firefly specifically, there are nine main characters. Only on television would there be enough time to actually have nine real main characters. I disagree with John that “the fact that they’re doing a movie will give them a lot more freedom [for character development], which is good.” From all reports I’ve read (and I’m spoiler-free, thanks), one of the problems with the movie is that there is not enough time for all the characters. Development on television can build over long periods of time, resulting in much stronger characters than could ever come out of either a movie or a series of movies.

Which all brings me back to John’s original blog-argument, that the use of Chinese was never explained. I didn’t feel it needed to be explained. The overall Asian influence was everywhere. Chinese characters were omnipresent, Asian clothing influences were everywhere, and we heard all the characters using Chinese. It does not require a zealous fannish nature to grok this cultural aspect of the Firefly universe. I love that there are no subtitles either. Ultimately it doesn’t even matter what they’re saying. It’s just contextual. It’s verbal scenery. Isn’t being spoon-fed information nice? Um, no. The creators of this show don’t assume I’m a moron.

This is specifically different from the General Grievous situation that John rants about. George Lucas assumes that narrowly distributed information has become common knowledge, and puts those who have seen the cartoon on totally different ground from those who have not. This assumes that knowledge of General Grievous is ipso facto, which it is not. The “why” behind the use of Chinese is, in the big picture, not relevant to the actual use of the language. Keeping in mind too, that Firefly should have had quite a bit of time to expand upon the back-story of the universe in which it takes place, I have no doubt that some of the Chinese influence would have been worked into the story of how the Alliance came to be, and what the Independent Faction were fighting against in their civil war.

So what information is ultimately necessary to parse an idea? Making pertinent information available to a small portion of a viewing population is not a smart way to get people involved in a fictional world which has been created. But beginning everyone at the same informational level is fair. John seeks enlightenment for the why of the scenery. Joss seeks enlightenment for the why of the people.

Congratulations, Lance!

An inspiration and an amazing athlete. Congrats on seven amazing tours, and letting us all ride along with you.

Today, but in 1969. To the moon!

Go ahead, zoom in. Closer…closer…too close!

At least for me. I tried to not adjust myself three hours to the right while I was in Boston, because I work quite late tonight, and didn’t want to feel as though I was at work at 1am. It doesn’t encourage accurate inventory counting. So to get up at 6am EST for breakfast with Audrey was really getting up much earlier. I figured I’d just do my sleeping on the plane anyhow.

Breakfast was much fun. I thought about it, and I think it’s been nearly six years since I’ve seen her. Maddie was just a baby when Audrey and I last hung out. Except for the interrogations on each other’s lives, it didn’t really feel like six years. =) Her boyfriend Dave sounds like, well, me. haha He’s also a koala bear: he likes to sleep and enjoys his green leafy stuff. Who would have thought. I’ve come to realize that my friends just really need to live closer. Or the country needs to be a bit smaller. Audrey has instructed me to come to Boston quarterly to visit her, which is silly, as I should just go directly to Vermont (where she lives). And I would love to actually be able to do it. She’s in med school, so her schedule is not exactly flexible. However, I am trying to use Tahoe as more enticement to come on out here and visit.

To reflect a bit, my current and much beloved career can be tied to Audrey taking me to Bear Valley and teaching me how to snowboard. I mean, I’d been a time or two, but she took the time to make it ‘click’ for me and I’ve been hooked ever since. After she graduated, I ended up taking a job at Sundance Sports to support my habit. Which led me to take a snowboard-related job when I got back from Japan. Which led me, after some gigantic job dissatisfaction, to REI, where I remain.

They lost my luggage on the way home. Color me surprised. Bastards.

Food in Boston is good, Bryan’s bout of food poisoning not withstanding. The moral of the story, as Dave tells it, requires using dirty beer taps as your gauge of restaurant cleanliness. Where I heartily agree, it would have been nice for him to have shared this with Bryan. At the very least it would have saved me a trip to the nearby CVS for various over-the-counter pharmacuticals.

Back to the good food… The regular end-of-show TMO dinner was held in the North End, where we held court (quite loudly) in the corner of the basement. We had the lovely Sasha as our waitress, and she was enormously good humored with our party of 13, who got louder with each bottle of wine, and even contributed to it by willingly bringing us grappa. Grappa! I blame Greg, drank a few sips, then pawned it off on Peter, who asked for it.

As if my trip here hasn’t revolved around food enough, tomorrow I will get to have breakfast with Old Friend Audrey, who is not old, but has been a friend for a long time. She’s driving down from Vermont this evening, and we’re getting together in the morning. Woo!

To quote Jeremy Piven in Grosse Pointe Blank, TEN YEARS! Ten years!

Happy birthday to mp3! You’ve been a fabulous file extension, and I’ve enjoyed your presence in my life.

Sometimes I beat around the bush with my subjects. This time, there should be no mistaking the hate I hold in my heart. AmericaWest, the airline of hate, should fall off the face of the earth (after letting all passengers deplane).

I’m currently in Boston. I have taken some time off work–including missing a lunch with our company CEO–to be here. Monday I worked all morning. It was a day of meetings, and I ran home to pack and head to the airport for my red-eye flight. My parents picked me up at 6:45pm, and I got to the airport about 90 minutes before my flight. I checked in at the curb, and cruised to the gate with my iPod and new book. We boarded the plane on time, and rolled out onto the runway. And stopped. And remained stopped.

The captain gets onto the intercom and tells us that some dohickey on the wing won’t go down, but “it’s not necessary for flying.” Oh that’s reassuring. However, we can’t take off when it’s in the “up” position, so we head back to the gate. We’re told it’ll take about 20 minutes to fix, which causes me to do math (ugh) and realize that I will be cutting it very close catching my connecting flight in Vegas. The minutes tick by, and they deplane about half of us because we’re not going to make our connecting flights. GAH.

I wait in line for 90 minutes to get a new flight. There were a few folks who got to take a direct flight to JFK on another airline that evening, but everyone else was stuck. Including the incredibly annoying girl who kept whining (out loud) that OMG her friends were driving down to meet her at The Cape and OMG whine whine bitch moan, rinse, repeat. I managed to remember that Bryan is generally nice in these situations, and gets more than he asks for, but exactly what he expects. So I finally get up to the counter to be re-ticketed (and by now they’ve deplaned everyone), and I am falsely understanding and empathetic toward the ticket lady. (I am lucky to start with the horse-faced, gum-smacking, fake-nail wearing, Janice-from-Friends woman, but end up with the other, slightly less offensive woman.) I can’t get out on the 6:15am flight because it’s already been filled by the re-ticked people in front of me. So I agree to the 9:30am flight, 30 minutes in Vegas, then on to Boston. And because I was fake-nice, I got upgraded to first class (which is what I was going for, as I should be compensated for all this bullshit).

My parents come back to pick me up at 11pm. I go home, surprise the dog (who knows that suitcase = not coming home, yet there I was), get a few hours of sleep, and am up again first thing to go back to the airport. Due to a small act of an unknown travel diety, my flight out of San Jose left on time, I made my connection in Vegas without a hitch, and arrived in Boston around 7:50pm EST. AW’s suckage continued though, as I stood around for 40 minutes waiting for the luggage to start coming out of the carousel.

Happily, for $1.25, I took a bus and hallelujah to the MBTA (aka The T) and made it to the hotel quite easily in under 40 minutes. (Bryan took a cab and it was $30 after tip, and took 25 minutes. I think my deal was better.) Also, I missed dinner with Bryan and the guys, which worked out fine, as both Bryan and Greg got minor food poisoning at the restaurant, whereas I got to have some Uno’s pizza and a tasty beer after my travels.

So here I am in Boston. It is a lovely city.

Yes, our staff is interesting. This afternoon I’m asked, out of the blue, what super power I would like to have, if I could have any at all. There were the typical ones being bandied about: flying, telekenesis, super-strength, mind-reading. I didn’t really have a good answer, so I said I’d get back to them.

Not long after this, I’m stopped by a customer. (A variation of this scene happens at least once a day.) I’m carrying a large red bin full of product. This bin can not be confused with anything offered to customers for carrying their goods. Our customer baskets and carts are all black. I’m wearing my nametag on a lanyard around my neck. It includes both my name, and the company name. The woman stops, looks at my red bin, tilts her head and reads my nametag, and then says, “Do you work here?” My biggest peeve. It’s not a pet peeve. It’s a feral, giant, rampaging wildebeest of a peeve. Now possibly there is a moment of confusion, because regular sales specialists wear kelly green vests with nametags, and managers just wear lanyards with nametags. (We do this so we can rush from point A to point B with less change of being stopped.) But after seeing (and appearing to read) the name tag, wouldn’t you think it would trigger the They Work Here reaction? Also, dear illiterate customer, please note that I both wear and name tag and ask you if you need help. This is a clue that I am an employee of the store you are in.

Thus I’ve realized what my super power would be. I want the power to make stupidity painful. If people ask me especially stupid questions, I want to make them feel as though they’ve been kicked in the kidneys. Or make them feel long periods of brain freeze. If stupidity were painful, people would be less stupid (out loud). And really, that’s all I ask.

New random quote generator in the sidebar here. Slightly more interesting, including a Wikipedia link to the quote’s author (if applicable). Thanks to Open Monday for writing the code.

Oh, and happy 4th of July, I guess. I worked, so it wasn’t much of a holiday.