Remains of the Day

It's been said that TV News is the only business where when it's five o clock, you wish it was FOUR o clock. That's not to say we broadcast yaks never want the day to end, but rather we could all use just a few more minutes before putting on the news. Alas, that great digital clock in the sky waits for no one, not even those of us who haven't worn a wristwatch in a couple of years. Who needs one - when your company-provided fancyphone keeps you in constant contact with a cadre of house cats whose job it is to call you up and count backwards?

A word on housecats, otherwise known as producers, editors and assignment folks. I give them a lot of grief here on Viewfinder BLUES, but deep down inside, I hope they know I appreciate them (the good ones, anyway). For without them I'd be forced to order my own graphics, write my own teases and watch whole episodes of Oprah lest her ratings plummet. I couldn't take that, so while you won't hear me say it often, I'd like to take this opportunity to dip my lens in reverence for all my news-roomies who've endured my wisecracks, sullen glares and occasional warbling spitballs...SOAR-EEE!

Now, when was I? Oh yes...TIME, the one thing that runs out quicker than that camera battery you stole from your buddy's charger. Whether I spend my late afternoon licking nab wrappers in the sanctity of an edit bay or pacing the perimeter of a dreaded live shot locale, I more than inured to the sensation of losing time. Friends of mine outside da biz talk of idle chitchat while waiting for the clock to hit 5, but it sounds like bad fiction to me. No, my day ramps UP, the minute hand gathering speed as I hunch over a timeline, a mangled spool of live truck cable or just some ornery bag of Funyuns that someone back at the chip factory hermetically sealed.

So where am I going with all this? Ya got me. I just know that if I don't recommit myself to this once sacred space, I'm going to lose focus like that fancycam I once took for a dip in the briny blue. I desperately don't want that to happen, for while this blog has yet to finance an armful of Rolexes, it has provided me with more therapy than I could ever fit into my average workweek. See, it's been nearly five years since I first logged in here with equal parts pith and vinegar. Who knows how much longer I'll continue to do so, but whenever I consider quitting, I find myself wondering how else I'd spend every evening. It won't be spent watching the news, that's for sure. Have you seen how the people who put that stuff together run around all day?

Who has time for that?