Julian Blogdugno

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I’m moving to wordpress.  It’s more writer friendly.  I hope if you read this blog, you’ll follow the new one at http://modugnoland.wordpress.com/

So long, laundromat!

Ah yes, the laundromat: the central hub for the poor.  The beauty of the laundromat is that all sorts of poor people go there.  Poor white people, poor black people, poor Latinos, poor Blasians, poor teachers, poor students, drug dealers that don’t have their shit together; yes, they all meet up at the laundromat.  But not me… not anymore.  I’m moving in with a washer and dryer and did my (hopefully) last load of laundromat laundry as I begin clawing and scratching my way up the ladder of success (by which I mean ‘moving somewhere cheaper’).

The prospect of the laundromat seemed so alluring to me when I first moved to these apartments.  I had only used the services of a laundromat once before—when our washing machine died—and that was a ghetto chain laundromat at midnight.  But the cute little family-owned number down the street was just oozing with Rockwellian charm and promise.  Knowing what I did about laundromats from TV and movies, I assumed the whole place would be brimming with surreal excitement, as soon-to-be lovers met by brushing up against each other while reaching for their dress socks.

There were no burgeoning relationships, though there were plenty of longing stares as too-shy people stole glances at attractive people using the Wascomat Senior on the other side of the room.  Often, long-established couples would come in, dragging their whole history behind them with their laundry.  Always dull to watch, these pairings just continued whatever had been going on in their living rooms here in the public arena for all to watch and find terribly dull.

What the laundromat lacked in romantic convention, it made up for in its abundance of poorly-behaved screaming children.  What is it about a screaming Latino boy that makes him so attractive to the woven grate of those laundry carts?  I’m not saying I hit him on purpose, but at least he had a reason to cry.

Laundromats are loud yet, in a way, they are like mini libraries.  People bring their books, homework, and laptops in an effort to save their otherwise-wasted laundry time to read a mystery, study Egyptian art, and edit their resumes amidst the solid groan of churning cloth.  This really puts a damper on that whole “no talking” rule at the public library.  Fuck you, lady; at least I’m not drying shoes.

The dress code at the laundromat is surprisingly lax and, without a doubt, this is the laundromat’s greatest asset.  It’s hard to feel less cool than anyone else at a laundromat.  Rare is the well-dressed patron who sets aside a coordinated outfit for laundry day.  Most people are draped in sweats or those jeans they stopped wearing out in a public three years ago and an ill-fitting graphic tee.  Abandon all ego, ye who enter here, because no one comes to the laundromat to look good.  In a way, the laundromat serves as a sort of purge.  You don’t look good, but it’s OK, because no one expects you to look good, even though you’re in public.  These occasions are few and far between.

So laundromat, I will do my best to remember all you’ve taught me when I put my quarterless loads into the washer/dryer awaiting me in my new basement.  I must admit, you do have certain charms that I will miss… but not many.

So long, laundromat!

Ah yes, the laundromat: the central hub for the poor.  The beauty of the laundromat is that all sorts of poor people go there.  Poor white people, poor black people, poor Latinos, poor Blasians, poor teachers, poor students, drug dealers that don’t have their shit together; yes, they all meet up at the laundromat.  But not me… not anymore.  I’m moving in with a washer and dryer and did my (hopefully) last load of laundromat laundry as I begin clawing and scratching my way up the ladder of success (by which I mean ‘moving somewhere cheaper’).

The prospect of the laundromat seemed so alluring to me when I first moved to these apartments.  I had only used the services of a laundromat once before—when our washing machine died—and that was a ghetto chain laundromat at midnight.  But the cute little family-owned number down the street was just oozing with Rockwellian charm and promise.  Knowing what I did about laundromats from TV and movies, I assumed the whole place would be brimming with surreal excitement, as soon-to-be lovers met by brushing up against each other while reaching for their dress socks.

There were no burgeoning relationships, though there were plenty of longing stares as too-shy people stole glances at attractive people using the Wascomat Senior on the other side of the room.  Often, long-established couples would come in, dragging their whole history behind them with their laundry.  Always dull to watch, these pairings just continued whatever had been going on in their living rooms here in the public arena for all to watch and find terribly dull.

What the laundromat lacked in romantic convention, it made up for in its abundance of poorly-behaved screaming children.  What is it about a screaming Latino boy that makes him so attractive to the woven grate of those laundry carts?  I’m not saying I hit him on purpose, but at least he had a reason to cry.

Laundromats are loud yet, in a way, they are like mini libraries.  People bring their books, homework, and laptops in an effort to save their otherwise-wasted laundry time to read a mystery, study Egyptian art, and edit their resumes amidst the solid groan of churning cloth.  This really puts a damper on that whole “no talking” rule at the public library.  Fuck you, lady; at least I’m not drying shoes.

The dress code at the laundromat is surprisingly lax and, without a doubt, this is the laundromat’s greatest asset.  It’s hard to feel less cool than anyone else at a laundromat.  Rare is the well-dressed patron who sets aside a coordinated outfit for laundry day.  Most people are draped in sweats or those jeans they stopped wearing out in a public three years ago and an ill-fitting graphic tee.  Abandon all ego, ye who enter here, because no one comes to the laundromat to look good.  In a way, the laundromat serves as a sort of purge.  You don’t look good, but it’s OK, because no one expects you to look good, even though you’re in public.  These occasions are few and far between.

So laundromat, I will do my best to remember all you’ve taught me when I put my quarterless loads into the washer/dryer awaiting me in my new basement.  I must admit, you do have certain charms that I will miss… but not many.

The Pathetic State of Things at Georgia Public Broadcasting

I’ll try and keep this brief as I’m sure there’s plenty of work I could be doing.  Oh wait, never mind.  The current administration of Georgia Public Broadcasting has seen fit to ensure that I can’t do my work.  Confused?  Let’s explore this issue together.

In June 2009, Georgia Public Broadcasting cancelled the Apprentice Program, the program for which I worked.  Despite the bad news, I carried on, since one of the projects I was working on, Georgia Women of Achievement, had an ongoing contract.  This meant that even though the program was cancelled, I would be staying on to work on this project.  Splendid.  Job security in an otherwise insecure time.

Soon, interns were brought in to replace the Apprentice Program, working under a variety of departments to create whatever media they needed.  I was a understandably upset watching jobs that had recently belonged to my friends get sourced out to untrained interns who worked for free, but still I soldiered on.  As general morale around the network dropped, things continued to deteriorate.

Soon, I found the work station that I relied on was being shared with a number of these interns.  I coped, calmly explaining to them that one needed to save their files onto an external hard drive rather than the desktop and no, you had to use your own, not mine.  These things are merely small speed bumps on the road to workplace diplomacy.  After all, the interns weren’t responsible for my friends being fired and if I could help guide them towards proper workplace procedure in a media editing environment, then I would be helping the entire organization out.

The real problem that arose from these changes is that Tina (my partner) and I have no say anymore when people look to use any of the equipment.  Without an ongoing program, the equipment that once belonged to the Apprentice Program now gets loaned out regularly to other departments, such as radio.  What someone in radio needs with a $40,000 HD camera, I’ll never know.  As you can imagine, many of the people who are now using the equipment—equipment that Tina and I rely on to complete the work we have a contract to do—is no longer in working condition.  The cameras come back to us with all their settings changed, meaning that instead of just turning it on and pushing record, we have to slog through dozens of different settings, just to make sure that the gain isn’t set too high or that the audio is recording at the right rate or that the iris isn’t going to change all by itself.  Most of the wireless mics at our disposable have stopped working and, mysteriously, all but two camera batteries have disappeared from the checkout closet, despite the fact that there are still four cameras squared away.

Problematic?  Indeed, as shoots are generally high-stress, fast-paced events that are only hurt by the time spent having to double-check the camera or test up to five mics before finding one that works properly.  It would be as if you came in to work, only to find that someone had remapped your keyboard so that each button was now assigned to a different letter.  Which brings me to my breaking point.

Since I am now a persona non grata, no one bothered to ask what software was needed on this work station.  So when they went ahead and formatted it, they didn’t install Photoshop or Illustrator.  These two pieces of software are not only extremely important to the work I have to do for Women of Achievement, they are a standard for any media-creating computer, and it is kind of an embarrassment to not have them.  It would be like not installing Excel on an accountant’s computer.  Additionally, it is a furlough day, meaning I can’t even get this problem resolved, even if I wanted.  I don’t know whether we even renewed the license for these softwares and will now have to spend Monday trying to get this software installed so I can do the work I was supposed to do this morning.

Thank you, GPB.  Thank you, Executive Director Teya Ryan.  Your ineptitude knows no bounds.

2010 Resolutions

It’s become a bit of a tradition over here at Julian Blogdugno that at the beginning of every year, I publicly list my resolutions so that you, my four faithful readers, can keep a running tally of how few of them I actually complete (although checking the old blog, I can see that this is NOT actually the case so nevermind and congrats on being here for a new tradition).  Generally, I keep my goals vague and then have no way of knowing if I’ve made any progress so, this year, I’m trying to break down my specific goals as much as possible.  Let’s begin.

1. Spanish

Somewhere I wrote that one of my resolutions was to learn Dutch.  Well fuck that.  I mean, Dutch is great and all, but I already know Spanish.  Except every day, I forget a little more.  When to use the subjunctive?  How to give commands to multiple people that I know intimately?  So I’m gonna pick myself up an advanced Spanish grammar book and work my way through it until I have no problem telling you what I would have done had I been able to tell my friends to come over earlier (it doesn’t make much more sense in English either).

2.  Movies

I’m a film major maker (gotta get used to that) who has always preferred television.  And who wouldn’t?  It allows for superior storytelling and character development.  That having been said, it’s time I stepped up to the plate and became that jerk who’s seen as many movies as possible.  So I’m gonna try and watch at least three new movies theatrically every month.  I live across the street from the Plaza and can get in for free so what’s the problem?

3.  Exercise

I’m already dreading this one as every inch of my nerd fiber tells me that exercise is evil evil evil but as I’m beginning to “feel” the muscles in my body ache and such, I know that deep down I need to get on it.  So, I’m planning on joining the gym at tech and working out at least twice a week.  Nothing two strenuous, but wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do forty push-ups? As long as I just get toned and not crazy beefy (which I’m sure is really easy to do), I should be fine.

4.  Stand-Up Comedy

As the funniest person on the planet, I’m starting to feel guilty depriving strangers of my intense and incisive wit.  Sure, having internet throngs watch a girl get her skin scraped off after a texting accident is fulfilling, but I have so much more to offer.  So, this year, I’m gonna write and perform at least one stand-up routine at an open mic night. A polar bear walks into a bar and says to the bartender, “Give me a shot of whiskey and……………………..a beer.”  The bartender says, “Sure thing, but why the big pause?”  The polar bear replies, “I dunno, I’ve always had them.“  This is a slam dunk already.

5. Writing

I guess it goes without saying that I need to be more productive in my writing so I’ve set goals and DEADLINES to help me out with this one.  So this year, you can expect 1 (one) completed pilot by April, 1 (one) completed play by August, and 1 (one) completed novella by December. You can send me money now for the pre-order!

6.  Reed moar

I feel like my lack of reading has started to affect me intellectually, so I’m gonna dive eyes-first into the exciting world of prose (sorry poetry, you broke my heart [except for you, dirty limericks]).  I’m aiming for 12 books completed by the end of the year.  For some people, this might not seem like much, but for me, it’s gonna be a challenge.  And to keep things diverse (and to make me smarter), I’m breaking it down like this:  Six fiction books and six non-fiction books.  Not challenging enough for you?  Fine.  How about this:  One piece of contemporary fiction written in SPANISH.  Suck a dick, monolinguists.

7.  Get the fuck off of Tumblr.

Tumblr rules if all you’re interested in is reposting lolcatz, but for a writer, it blows.  So I’m contemplating moving back to blogspot for my personal blogging as well as setting up my top-secret blog project/future book deal/movie adaptation starring Amy Adams and Meryl Streep. As long as Nora Ephron doesn’t direct, I’ll be happy.

8.  Piano

I got nimble fingers (wink wink, boys… sigh) so let’s just keep this simple.  I’m a buy me a few piano books and play my way through them.

9.  Go on a late-night police ride-along.

I feel like this one doesn’t need any explanation.

Alright, so that’s what’s up.  Make a checklist.  And if any of you feel the need to champion any of my goals, become a sponsor and hold me accountable (but I will hate you, hard ass).