#anyways happy wednesday go listen to up first by npr

[bookalicent]

if i see another destiel meme about the debate or literally any big news...... just listen to npr

[chuffbufforeview-blog]

Tell me something that happened. Use the names of people you’d forgotten about, and say what you’d thought would happen but didn’t. Write down what part of the song was playing when you slammed the door only to realize you had to go back inside for your car keys. Can you remember when you were still little enough to hide under the kitchen sink where it smelled like ammonia and Comet and old sponges? What was the color of the clunky old car your Dad would let you help steer. What brand did he smoke?

Merlin Mann, "Making the Clackity Noise"

I make it a habit to read this essay by @merlin a few times every year. I read it more often when I need to. I’ve needed to read it a lot this year already. Anyway, here’s a dumb story that fell out of my keyboard. I’m proud of it, and I hope it helps you too.

I remember a few years ago when I thought I had remembered things. 15 is a weird age where you seem to think you know everything, but in all honesty, you don't. I remember coming up on old Vlogbrothers videos and thinking, "Man. That would be a cool thing to do. I should start a vlog." So, I did. I saved up the money I'd earned working at the Meijer's just down the road from where I lived and bought a nice video camera, some cheap video editing software, and some stock in my hopes and dreams. I was going to be the next authority on youtube for talking into a camera about nothing in particular. I was so excited.

I kept the vlog going for a little bit until I lost interest. That seems to be my modus operandi when it comes to creative ventures. I get the idea that I wanted to do something. I throw a ton of money — concerning whatever my wages were at the time — at the dream. I'd get bored and realize I'd become all-in-all poorer for the experience. Not necessarily in a figurative sense, I'd literally blown any concept of a budget on engineering something I thought I wanted to do.

I did that to a more considerable extent with an idea I had after starting my journey with podcasts. I only had two in heavy rotation, Cortex and Hello Internet. I liked both of these because I had been a long-time fan of the common denominator among the two, CGP Grey. Grey started as a creator on YouTube making educational videos. Even if you don't recognize the name, you're probably at least tangentially familiar with his work. Think cute stick figures. Think incredibly droll topics that someone made fun to think about like the creeping advance of automation and machine learning, or how to become the Bishop of Rome, how to correctly pronounce Uranus.

For a young spreadsheet-loving nerd, Grey's videos were a godsend. They were, however, limited. His upload schedule can best be described as infrequent as the man behind the stick figure mask hates the concept of deadlines and schedules. When I learned about his podcasts, I jumped at the opportunity to have more exposure to his content. More importantly, I was very interested to hear the extemporaneous thoughts of someone who didn't feel so dissimilar from myself who was considerably older than me.

I started listening to his podcasts and was surprisingly disappointed. Not with the content. Not with what he had to say. But with how little of myself I was able to see in the guy once I got the chance to hear him speak.

The adventure, however, was not quite finished. I was introduced to the medium as a whole by a single interest. I wanted to hear one person's thoughts. When I found out the medium can produce something entertaining and enlightening, the floodgates were opened. I was exposed to other podcasts, to other people. I found new ideas that were voiced in a way I couldn't replicate. I realize now that was the point. I had spent time, treasure and labor to make something someone else had already made. These people were making something all their own.

So, I had an idea for my first podcast. I was going to get a bunch of my old friends together and talk about the different paths life had taken us down. I was going to examine how our ideologies and our choices had shaped us. I was serving in the Air Force at the time, never having set foot in a lecture hall. The two friends I picked were both at different levels in higher education and possessed vastly different political ideologies. I thought it was going to be brilliant. I thought it was going to be the next Serial. I couldn't have been more wrong.

I bought a domain, built a website, acquired all the equipment I'd need to record and edit the audio. I drew a crude logo for the podcast I wanted to make. A circle around the upper part of a ship's sails to represent the name I'd decided on, The Masthead Podcast. I figured I was prepared.

The first and only recorded episode of The Masthead was a disaster. I had no idea what to talk about, and I was trying too hard to sound like an NPR vet. One of my friends was playing Star Wars Battlefront on the same PC he was recording on, and we could hear every clack of WASD and click of his mouse as he tried to take down the Empire in a hail of blaster fire. The other friend forgot to hit record.

I had tried too hard to engineer a situation in which a great podcast would happen. Just like I had worked too hard to engineer a great vlog to get the attention of the brothers Green. I tried to force a plot. If you're familiar with the instructive writings of Steven King, you'll know this was like trying to excavate a delicate fossil with a jackhammer. It all fell apart.

Almost a year later, I was in touch with a buddy of mine from high school. We got to talking about random bullshit. It was fun. We started a podcast. It's still fun. We call that podcast Every Other Wednesday both as a very literal description of our upload schedule — most of the time — and in honor of a mutual teacher of ours who we both loved studying under.

We're still recording. We're still having fun. I get to make stuff.

John Green is probably never going to know who I am; that's okay with me. I'm just happy that I'm not pretending to be someone else's work anymore.