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I work for Technicolor, now, the Technicolor that you see appear at the end of like half the movies you watch. I work archiving for them, and very shortly I will be doing this work late, late at night.
I have signed various contracts of non-disclosure about the job, mostly related to not revealing business secrets or spoiling upcoming movies for people, but I don't think I'll be in too great a violation to say that the storage routine is nightmarish, not so much in that I can't handle it, but more intellectually. I can't imagine how a business this large functions with such a system. It's like watching a car drive held together entirely by duct tape. The fact that it works seems entirely overshadowed by the inevitability of its failure.
The overall crew seems like fun, although again I can't immediately fathom exactly how it all holds together. How they approach their work seems, again, haphazard and frayed, working almost by accident. It's very much like watching ants work, realizing that each individual worker wastes a lot of energy scurrying around chemical trails trying to figure out what to do, and that most of them sooner or later figure out a patter is most definitely what all the hot scientists these days are calling emergent behavior. That's what this scenario seems like. Emergent success. (Someone find the LOL cats pic that that will be the caption to.)
I'm actually looking forward to the graveyard shift. It seems like the degree of calm and autonomy might be just up my alley. The branch I'll be working at can't be more than two miles from my house, a casual ten minutes bike ride, absolute worst case scenario. Best of all, Technicolor, though lacking in any creative contribution to the process (that I know of, anyway) is a post house, and does allow employees to train in post work, such as deck use, editing and post sound. That is something that I can get behind.
And frankly, I can get behind a job where the guy who just explained to me that I'm replacing someone who got fired due to his lack of work ethic comes in the next morning so hung over he can barely stand, much less work. As I've stated before, I can't even figure out what work ethic means in the modern world anymore. Apparently so long as I show up and fail to suicide, then we're disco.
So Clint walks into the living room and says, "Dammit I just realized that I fucked up on my ballot..."
"I accidentally wrote in Lyndon LaRouche for president."
Have a fun and safe election day, everybody!
Ok, I lied. I'm figuring out how to form an .rss feed. I was under the impression that I needed to do this for podcast purposes. That's right, I'm started a podcast!
I have finally begun my Creative Commons music review project over on Salon's open blog area. My ancient college radio show, the Noise Ordinance, is now back as a weekly hour long podcast of free licensed music, as well as a regular written review of specific albums. I am trying to develop this as an actual portfolio for my writing, hence its placement at Salon instead of here, and would certainly appreciate it if friends were to give it a look, feedback, brutal criticism, etc. Oh, and it also has what I 'think' is my first hand crafted, working, .rss feed which means that despite earlier ranting, this page will probably have one shortly. Because I pamper people. I really do.
