I now carry a scarf, gloves, and cap with me where ever I go. In the trunk of the car, I have insulated boots, overalls, and a survival kit consisting of enough food to stay alive in the event that I end up in a ditch. For the most part, I have taken these measures in case I end up having to fix or do something outdoors when it comes life at the station. The other half of the story is the bitter cold air that has drifted in from the north.
Winter is here.
Serious this time.
Riddle me this…
Why have car commercials stayed the same after all these years? The formula has always been static, and the only thing to change is the cars or car dealers they promote. Show the car, flash the numbers on the screen, and mix in a spokes person that you have never heard about in your life up until the point that they feel the need to tell you what his or her name is as this horribly annoying ad runs before your senses. Sure, the numbers do have significance, but we all know that buying a car is a messy situation. Give me something like trunk monkey. At that point, I’m sold.
I’ve added various pictures from KRUI into the gallery for your viewing pleasure.
The station within itself has become a workout of sorts. Anyone who knows me understands the routine I put my body through in the early morning hours of nearly everyday that passes. The reason being is for the simplicity of just feeling normal. Feeling human. My health also plays a major factor. This fact is true for most people, but if I neglect this element from my life, I run into too many instances of not feeling well. I grew tired of that sometime ago, and this is the best way to combat that.
We are pushing hard to get projects done that have sat idle for too long. I’ve said before that there is that end of the year push, but with consolidation on the calendar, this is something entirely different. I am in the area of business where we make things work. No one really comprehends the tinkering that goes into making something he or she wants to do possible. The pinched fingers, scraps, bruises, sore muscles, and relentless, unpaid hours of labor that goes into a subtle element of a single broadcast that you, the listener, takes to be just a matter of commonality. You might not even notice, but people like me are apart of it.
What I will say is that where I am now, people say “thank you.” I cannot express how much that phrase means to me.
The worst part of winter is the lack of sunlight. You can feel every last bit of happiness start to leave you as the winter solstice slowly approaches, only to be relieved by the cheer that your respective winter holiday might bring you. Once the new year passes, what’s left to get you through it? Sure the days slowly grow longer, but there is really nothing else to drive you until spring has a chance to really take hold. However, I have made my share of people upset with me for impromptu snowball fights. I can’t help it. There’s just something about pelting some one with a good handful of snow.
Light is good. In fact, in these dark months, it’s the best thing for you. I took steps to combat the lack there of in confines of my apartment.
I shall prevail.
Some have asked as to why I have been working so diligently on my resume. The story is finally starting to roll out into the public realm, but for those who know me, I haven’t been very quiet about it. It always strikes me funny that public entities keep things so secret from the taxpayers who pay for their jobs. Down the road, they can’t figure out for the life of them as to why people have developed this sense of “hate” for them. Perhaps it’s just another example of the sick, capitalistic society we live in that I constantly find myself arguing against. Granted that I’m not the best guy at it, but “that’s the way it is” gets on my nerves faster than country music does. And that’s pretty fast.
Consolidation is going to happen. The questions of if and when are no longer apart of the plan. The agenda is being set next week, and all control has been vacated by everyone I work with. The timeline will be dictated, new bosses will appear, some people will lose their jobs, others will shift into new positions, and the local public radio station in this area will not be as local as it used to be. In less than a year, a completely revamped, statewide network will replace what has been here, at least in this area, since 1919. Everything that is here now will stay here. The difference will be a small group of people controlling what they believe is in the best interest for the state.
Where does this put me? I’m not sure. The memo is sitting here on my desk, and I see places where I will fit in. I’m told I’ll still be here, but no one has any solid answers. However, I saw it coming. My search has been going on for a few weeks. Change is the inevitable. Finding out where you are within that is the adventure. I’m just getting impatient to see what’s going to happen next.
So I met Ira Glass tonight…
Truly, he’s just a normal guy. Ira’s fun, easy to talk to, and dry wit as you could probably imagine. I have to say that my years meeting people of fame, some of those being of the utmost, personal respect, I don’t really get hyped up about the situation other than just being able to shake the hand of some one I have absolute respect for. It makes me happy to do that. I don’t like to bother them with a lot of questions or try to act all suave to what’s going on. He has a heart, liver, and digestive system just like I do. We just have vastly different jobs and lives.
During his lecture, I had moments of where I was looking into a mirror. So many ideas and theories that I have about radio were echoed by the bullet points he went across. The major difference is that Ira is out there doing all the things that are constantly floating around in my head about the theatre we both work in. What he is doing today with This American Life isn’t perfect, even after the years put into the project, but that’s what makes it so incredibly wonderful. The fact is that there are all sorts of things being applied to his product. They are either new, unique, or simple. It’s different. It’s the art of storytelling.
There was a point where he asked the crowd to clap if they were aspiring journalists. The next question for those who wanted to progress on to a career of working in radio. The third question was for those who were happy with what they were doing with their life. I might not be there one hundred percent, but I couldn’t help but make my contribution to the applause on the third request. There used to be a time where I would have done that for the second, but I’m doing that now. Embarrassingly, I almost did anyway.
I can officially feel like the holidays are here. Christmas came yesterday morning when I woke up, with sleep caked in the corners of my eyes, I pulled the shades open to see snow. Real snow. About that point, I don’t feel so bad about summer leaving us for the depths of winter. In a couple months, we’ll be friends again. The snow I can handle… for now.
Life at the station is picking up into a mad push towards the end of the year. There is something to remember when you are sitting there, thinking that broadcasting is where you’d like to be in life. Take a moment to think about all the holiday programming that goes on. Some of it you love, some you loathe. Either way, there is some one out there making it possible. Staying late, working hard, and planning out how it’s all going to go.
It gives a whole new meaning to “holiday cheer.”
The story that gets me the most about my grandfather has to be his time spent in World War II. It’s one of those things that once you hear it, you suddenly understand that no matter how insane your life might be, you’re not alone. I don’t always recall the entirety of the situation, but sometimes, details are not as important as the jest of the story.
In the days following the invasion of Normandy, Grandpa passed through the liberated beaches of France as a field medic. From the wounded to the dead, he saw some of the worst that the push into Europe had to offer. I had always heard how he marched under the Arc de Triumph in Paris once the country was liberated. The place to be for one hell of a party.
Until recently, I never heard how he went AWOL for three days during his stay in France. As it happens, he could never completely recall those three days, and I can only assume that maybe it’s better left unsaid. Grandma got a letter in the mail from him sometime after this event, but instead of being his normal ranking, the return address listed him as “Private Louis Valadez.” She instantly knew something was wrong with such a drastic demotion, but at least he was still alive. The war effort was too precious to send any man home for breaking the rules, regardless of what happened or how much alcohol was consumed.
No matter how dumb you feel about something you might have done, some one has been there before in a different place and time. Even great men make awful mistakes. However, when people ask me why I am who I am, I have a pretty good idea of where to start looking.
I watch those commercials on TV where online dating services have led to the marriage to the grossly happy couples you see on the screen. Such and such were married on this and that date. So many couples successfully matched and made happy. We put together our users this way and it’s so much better because of this really intelligent graphic that displays some sort of statistic or pie chart. Mind you they explicitly say the word “user” in referring to people who log onto their service; other people commonly called “users”: drug addicts.
What I would really like to see are the percentages of people who are horribly pissed with the service. Let’s see the statistics of how many have had to file restraining orders on other “users.” How about those who were horribly deceived by some fourteen year old claiming to be a rich executive with a condo in St. Martin. It goes without mentioning about those who failed to have the “six pack abs” that they touted so much about.
Dating services are nothing new, but if you want to talk about stats, you stand the same chance of success that you do at a bar or church function. Now if you have to pay for the service, then it must be a good one, right? You might have a point, but I can also steer you towards clubs with steep prices and over priced religious events for all your dating needs.
I feel so bloated right now it’s not funny. I bought into the whole, “Hey, this only happens once a year.” I believe this is a good thing, but if it were true, then why does Old Country Buffet exist? Anyhow, you couldn’t have asked for a better day. No snow, plenty of sun, and crowded roads speeding perfectly over the posted limits everywhere you went. I barely got into the festivities before having a margarita in my hand and shoving food into my face. Pretty sweet.
The first thing I noticed on my way home tonight were lights. The decorations are everywhere you look. I would say that it’s great, but not when you’re driving. I love to look at all pretty, blinky things. The problem is that it takes away from the deer I should be looking out for so I do not have one wandering through my windshield.
“Oooo… That’s pretty cool… I like that one, too… Oooo… That was a HUGE blood splatter on the road… Hey, I like the use of blue on that house….”
