Day 5

Last day I almost finished the Conversation scene with mother. I don’t talk about the play to-day (sorry this way of writing, it’s this book I’m reading), because I have something rather more interesting to mention.

Maddie Lawson, my Writing For Performance lecturer, told us in today’s lesson to go to the computer room and get on with our work. And here I am, in it’s 11:20 of Day 5, in the IT Study Centre doing my work. I was thinking of doing some work on the two writers I have to research on, however someone in the authority department changes my aims and now I am writing in my diary.

I logged in to the computer, but it turned off. As I was reading my last assignment sheet, I didn’t notice the computer was turned off, so I wasted like 5 minutes turning it on and logging in again. But that’s alright, I could live with that. But, then, unfortunately some window topped up asking me to restart the computer. And there I went again, waiting for the computer to restart, typing my Student User name, my password, waiting for all the settings to restore.

At last, I was logged in, and ready to start working. When I’m doing boring stuff on the computer, I am always listening to music. When I’m doing interesting stuff on the computer, that’s because I’m doing something to do with music, or just listening to music. Conclusion: I’m always listening to music when I’m on the computer, it’s my method, and a way of keeping me going without get bored and turned it off, and obviously play the guitar, the piano, the didgeridoo, or whatever it is related to music.

The school’s computer system is down since last week. For one week we were not able to print off anything and we still cannot sign in to our e-mail accounts, which is something quite inopportune since I am waiting an answer for one University regarding next year’s Drama course. However, as the system was down, I knew from the beginning that I was able to log in to every website I wanted, even the porn ones, because the firewalls were down. That’s obvious, isn’t it? I could have gone to watch some porn or gossip magazines, but that’s not my kind of thing. I’m the kind of a fellow who wants to have a good portfolio for Writing for Performance, therefore I decided to go to the youtube website and listen to some music (I tried the imeem website first, but it was not available at the moment). I was watching the David Bowie’s video with Trent Reznor (I never get his name, I have always to double check in the google) I’m afraid of Americans. As I was immerged in the colours of the clip, I wasn’t obviously doing my work, and you know it because I’ve told you before that I get distracted very easily.

At this moment, This Lady With A Fake Plastic Smile In Her Face (TLWAFPSIHF) comes next to me and says something like:

TLWAFPSIHF (in a British way of meaning “what fuck are you doing?” or just being ironic) – Nice video!

Me (in a Portuguese way of saying “fuck off”) – I know.

TLWAFPSIHF –You’re supposed to be doing college work.

Me – This is inspiring.

TLWAFPSIHF – I’m sure it is, I have to ask you to turn it off, though.

Me (losing my position) – OK. (and paused the video, minimized the window and stood there thinking)

And how unfair can this be? So, I kept on thinking of a way of making her know that I was actually doing work and I meant it when I said it was inspiring. So here’s what I did: grabbed a pencil, a note pad, stood up and walked in to the little room where she has all the privacy to watch whatever she wants in the internet.

I begun apologising to interrupt whatever she was (not) doing (I can be British as well) and asked pragmatically what her name was. Jo, it is and I wrote it down, right there, right in front of there. To double check I asked if I had written it properly, with a J and an O. Then I asked what was the name of the room we were in, and she asked if I meant the cubical she works in from 9 to 17 everyday, through the whole school year, doing whatever she does here, and Iaid “no”, that I meant the whole computer room. She said “I.T. Centre”, as I wrote it down. Then I looked at her and asked why did she made me turn the youtube off and she answered me it was against the regulations and that works for everyone, not only for me. I asked her why would she do that, if anyone complained or if she caught me doing that naughty thing of mine, and she said that she walking by and just saw me. She also said that I wasn’t meant to be there, and that the only reason those 13 computers were empty is because the lecturer was sick (a made up story, obviously – don’t fall into that what one, please). She also said told me that I could only use those computers if I had booked the room and I were in a lesson, which is another big fat lie. I wrote all of this down, in front of her, because I’m the kind of a fellow who stabs on people’s back. Then, I finally got what I wanted, I made her stress out, and the fake smile faded away, and asked me what my name was, my student number, which course I was taking. I answered to everything she said, with my smiling face, even before she asked. And I added: “I am in a lesson.” – Bull’s-eye. And she said in the end: “If you want to get difficult, I can choke you out.”. This is a person panicking, dear reader. I answered “Go ahead, I’m comfortable with it. Take care, huh, Jo!” And then I walked away, came back to my computer, and kept on listening to I’m afraid of America, while I was writing this. Then, the firewalls were suddenly activated (guess who did it) and my iPod has no battery, which means I wrote most of this listening to the Computer System lesson next to me.

I made my point, used a little bit of inverted psychology, which is what I call Dark Zen or Zen Negro (in Portuguese). She was shaken a bit from the inside and might consider a bit more before she tells someone off, next time.

Because in the end of the day, I was about to start working, not disturbing anyone, in a place surrounded by 13 empty chairs and computers. This is bullying. This is the law bullying people for no ethic or moral reason. This is the book I’m reading (Orwell’s 1984) becoming a reality, and no-one notices or mentions it. This has everything to do with my play. It’s all in there.