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demiurgentIt was my fifth anniversary at the school today. Tax day. I'm never going to forget that date as long as I'm there. It was a long day, largely unpleasant in a number of ways, medically and personally, as too many days have been in the last year. But we hold on. We always hold on. If I can make it to the point when they set the date for my surgery, I can make it to the surgery. And once I make it to the surgery, I can plan the rest of my life.
And so I drove, and listened to the iPod. Mostly old episodes of This American Life, from before there was a war, or before we even expected there would be. And I let the day and the stresses and the shame melt out of me in the zen of the road.
It took me to Portsmouth, but I didn't stop for long. I grabbed an extended life battery for my Cell Phone, and I hit Best Buy and spent too much money on DVDs.
It is the golden age of Archiving, you realize. Major studios have begun to realize that even the most fringe of shows can be stored on two or three DVDs and sold at tremendous profit. And tonight I worked on my own personal archive. I got the complete Sports Night, Season Two of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume II of the Mystery Science Theater 3000 Collection, (Angel's Revenge, Cave Dwellers, Pod People and Shorts Vol. 1) and the individual MSTings of Mitchell and The Hellcats.
It wasn't until I was on the drive home before I wondered if I was reacting to the senseless destruction of the Iraqi National Library and Archive. I don't think I actually was, but it's a poetic enough thought that I might as well mention it here.
Looking at the shelves of my apartment, I see a billion books, more or less, some falling apart, some in pristine condition, some new, some very old. Some I intend to read, some I loved, some I don't even like. But somehow, it became deeply ingrained in me that books don't get thrown away. Given away, yes. Sold? Sure, why not. But not tossed in the trash. They represent too much. Too many trees, maybe. Or too many thoughts. It is sinful to throw away a book.
And so I've lugged these things across a continent twice, and it's ever growing. And yet, I take comfort in them. In their odd dryness and musty smell. In their weight, and presence. In the potential they represent and the part of myself they have become. I'm beginning to feel that way about DVDs -- more the television ones than the movie ones. They'll add a part of my life, forever on demand. I yearn for the day when all the Simpsons episodes sit on my shelf, ready to be seen whenever I damn well feel like it.
Tonight, I feel dulled a bit. Blunted. But not bad. Perhaps the catharsis of outrage and grief over a thousand years plus of lost thought and record helped purge the anger and annoyance of a day, the stress of a life I can't do much about but shrug. Perhaps in screaming and railing against something too big, I can cope with the small.
Perhaps. In the meantime, I have stuff to watch.
And so I drove, and listened to the iPod. Mostly old episodes of This American Life, from before there was a war, or before we even expected there would be. And I let the day and the stresses and the shame melt out of me in the zen of the road.
It took me to Portsmouth, but I didn't stop for long. I grabbed an extended life battery for my Cell Phone, and I hit Best Buy and spent too much money on DVDs.
It is the golden age of Archiving, you realize. Major studios have begun to realize that even the most fringe of shows can be stored on two or three DVDs and sold at tremendous profit. And tonight I worked on my own personal archive. I got the complete Sports Night, Season Two of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume II of the Mystery Science Theater 3000 Collection, (Angel's Revenge, Cave Dwellers, Pod People and Shorts Vol. 1) and the individual MSTings of Mitchell and The Hellcats.
It wasn't until I was on the drive home before I wondered if I was reacting to the senseless destruction of the Iraqi National Library and Archive. I don't think I actually was, but it's a poetic enough thought that I might as well mention it here.
Looking at the shelves of my apartment, I see a billion books, more or less, some falling apart, some in pristine condition, some new, some very old. Some I intend to read, some I loved, some I don't even like. But somehow, it became deeply ingrained in me that books don't get thrown away. Given away, yes. Sold? Sure, why not. But not tossed in the trash. They represent too much. Too many trees, maybe. Or too many thoughts. It is sinful to throw away a book.
And so I've lugged these things across a continent twice, and it's ever growing. And yet, I take comfort in them. In their odd dryness and musty smell. In their weight, and presence. In the potential they represent and the part of myself they have become. I'm beginning to feel that way about DVDs -- more the television ones than the movie ones. They'll add a part of my life, forever on demand. I yearn for the day when all the Simpsons episodes sit on my shelf, ready to be seen whenever I damn well feel like it.
Tonight, I feel dulled a bit. Blunted. But not bad. Perhaps the catharsis of outrage and grief over a thousand years plus of lost thought and record helped purge the anger and annoyance of a day, the stress of a life I can't do much about but shrug. Perhaps in screaming and railing against something too big, I can cope with the small.
Perhaps. In the meantime, I have stuff to watch.
