What's This Bitch Talking About? Really, like what is she talking about?

This is a little check-in podcast while we are waiting for April 28th to get here so we can talk about another Buffy episode!

Also, I made a video playlist of Janet Jackson's "Rhythm Nation 1814".

//grumblegrumblegroo//

Sometimes I think that I don't like people enough to work for the public.*

Here's the thing: the kind of people I have a problem with are those that think you WANT to pay attention to them. People who walk in a room like they own it and like you give a shit what THEIR top three artists in the room are. "Write it down!" No thanks, random dude.

People that think your time is theirs are my biggest pet peeve. Guess who cares about your movie reviews? Your family and friends. Guess who doesn't care about your movie reviews? People in customer service. Sometimes cool conversations about art and life and all that other stuff evolve organically, and those can be the greatest conversations when they involve two consenting adults. But walking up to a person that is paid to be nice to you and taking advantage of that niceness with monologues is just. so. sleazy. Don't do it.

This random and probably in poor taste rant has been brought to you by...

hormones!!!

Gee, I love my endocrine system.

*Other times I'm sooo happy I can help someone get through their day, so it's not all bad.

The Pete-riarchy: Gaslighting Dogs

VENTING session in 3...2...1

So there's this neighbor we have with a redheaded fluff-monster that Luna (our husky/pitbull/heeler mix) and other dogs in the neighborhood have attacked several times. Here's WHY: the dog's owner SAUNTERS through alleyways and talks to dogs that are barking bloody murder at him and his beast. He stops and stares at dogs that obviously want to take his bitch out. He doesn't avoid dogs that have previously attacked his dog. Luna has attacked her three times now. Today the guy decided to call Animal Control on us. We now have a court date and other hoops to jump through.

Luna IS aggressive. She is also an escape artist. We will plead guilty. I have been confused by her aggressive behavior her entire life. You never see it coming. She has attacked every dog she's ever shared a house with and also this neighborhood dog. She does NOT like other dogs. I don't know exactly how to handle her.

...buuuuuut, why would you not avoid an alleyway next to a yard with a dog that has attacked your dog before? Nay, a yard that has housed a different dog that has also attacked your dog. If not avoid the alley, then walk past it briskly at the VERY least. Why stop and taunt? The guy was still sauntering about in our piece of alleyway as Animal Control was handing us the citation. That's how long he was out there. This guy. Seriously.

I was real mad at Luna at first. When Animal Control let us know who had lodged the complaint I ceased being mad. As a dog owner, I would never continue to place my dog in prolonged contact with dogs that wish her harm.

a predictable entry...

I feel like anyone that knows me knows this type of thought process was coming...

My mom and I were talking about me and school. (I started library school this week.) She asked me if there was anything in my life that I am lacking. And the honest answer is that besides money and hopes for retirement, NOTHING.

I have a home, a family, and friends. I am healthy and I know how to get by on very little money. When I pay off my car in less than a year, I'll be $300/mo richer.

The only thing to gain as a librarian is a hope to retire someday. But is time off in the last couple of decades in my life worth giving up half my time now until the age of 65 or 70? I really don't think so. I suppose I'd also gain respect from a lot of people. It sounds WAY cooler to say you're a librarian than to have to correct people when they accidentally call me one now just because I work in a library. But that respect is ultimately just me worrying about what people think of me, and that's never held much weight with me anyway.

I've never been an ambitious person. I'm quite content with sitting in my own little corner thinking about nothing. I don't get bored. My goals in life include having a happy and healthy family and my own comfortable home. I have these things now, and those extraordinary things in themselves I know make me incredibly lucky. And those are the most important things. To be a librarian, I might be sacrificing a bit of my health. For a person like me, working full time would be a big strain on my mental health at the very least. Having a desk job (sitting still all day) I KNOW would have a big strain on my physical self. Being higher up on totem poles professionally is an isolating thing, by nature. I've never wanted to be in charge of things.

I'm very proud of my peers (Cari, Jeana, Jill, Mark) that have gotten their degrees in library science and gone on to be directors of libraries. That is so cool and they are good at their jobs. They are good at these jobs because they have big ideas and are incredibly smart and outgoing and rad. I love them for it.

I have to be honest with myself about my own abilities, though. I just chose to go back to a job in circulation because it was LESS responsibility. I'm not well-suited to big ideas and outgoingness. There are a lot of really rad people in the world that don't do what society would consider as "important" jobs. I've NEVER cared what kind of job a friend has as long as they're happy. I've seen more unhappy people in jobs of prestige than in jobs of lower status and perceived "drudgery".

I've given up on a lot of things in my life. I'm really quite good at making excuses and I'm on the path to making them about school right now. It's hard to say if I would have ever truly benefited or excelled from any of the things I've given up in my life (piano, flute, jazz dance, soccer, cello, etc) but my life is far from empty without these things.

Yesterday I realized that I'm starting to feel as free and "me" as I did in high school. I've had moments of this thought occurring in the last 6 months or so, but the thought is really becoming reality. I've started bellydancing regularly again...and just dancing for fun again. I danced for hours last night while listening to my radio show. I HAVE a radio show! I really really love it and get more enjoyment out of it than I could ever imagine enjoying being a librarian. The things I enjoy in life have always been simple things anyway. Perhaps if I had stayed in dance classes as a child I would have lost the joy I get now from dancing like an idiot with zero grace or style.

I do regret not learning a musical instrument, though. I feel I am too uncoordinated, but I know it would just take an inordinate amount of dedication...a trait I've had in life, but usually not in applications that involve working with my hands or "manipulating objects in the physical universe".

Have I essentially talked myself out of school? Maybe, but I feel a responsibility to the wonderful women that wrote me references and encouraged me in this endeavor. I feel I should stick out one semester for THEM. I've never been able to follow through when the motivation doesn't come from me, though, so I make no promises. Either way, I'll be fine.

LiveJournal facsimile blog, part 4372

I'm in that weird ennui-space again and it's self-indulgent to write about it, AGAIN, but I will, because I have to. Because if I don't type these words out of my body, I might self-destruct.

I deal with depression. Big deal.

"Nobody likes their jobs, nobody got enough sleep...just suck up, suck up and be nice."

Reverting to lyrics to express my angst? Check.

I deal with anxiety, dyspraxia, autism, migraines. PMDD. Whatever. We are all steeping in mental illness and we all need validation for our pain. Who the fuck cares?

But the fact remains that I am unhappy. I am unhappy with the way things have transpired in my "career" and I don't know what to do about it or where I want to go with it. I don't know how much to care. And I am so sick of caring what people think of me. I'm unraveling, but I won't admit it outside this very public space of admitting it. I'll HATE that I wrote these words tomorrow.

Mostly, I've stopped drinking which I think is why all these things are more salient at the moment. They're rearing their heads for me to figure out how to confront them. Mostly, I've also stopped moving, doing, anything. This is probably a depressive episode. Lots of people have had this same issue, are sharing this same problem right this minute, as I am.

I need to funnel my propensity to daydream and live entirely inside my own head into art. I know I do, but inertia claims me as her loyal subject. This is actually a really big change from yesterday wherein I washed my hair, put on eyeliner, and listened to Chelsea Wolfe all day. Today I barely put on pants and went for a walk.

The worst part about depression (aside from all of it?) is the guilt. I feel guilty that I'm indulging myself...letting myself steep in the stew of my self-loathing. It is crippling, but I'm doing it anyway. I've already stepped onto the Sadness Train. There's no going back now. I just have to wait it out. Wait it out. Listen to music. Take a walk. Watch "The Office". WALLOW.

Wait it out and
ALLOW it to pass...

I wallow quite well, in fact.

At the root of the listlessness is a situation that feels like a lack of control. I've lost control over my job because I've let it all just be as it is, like a river passing by me as I sit on the bank. That's a great way to meditate and it has even worked out really well in life most of the time, but not right now. Right now I am angry and I want to run. My solution last week was to separate myself from it emotionally, and that worked well for me then. But it's not a permanent solution.

Inside my head, when I'm not having nightmares or feeling guilty about work, I am a mythological creature that rules a magical world no one but those I invite can inhabit. The older I get, the less time I spend in my magical world. That stops now. Fuck you and your adult world. I choose oblivion because fantasy has kept me alive for 33 years now. It is my most favorite friend.

Today was.

"Why are you looking for a harmony?

There is harmony in everything."

I've had a very strange day. What started out frantic anxiety soon dissolved into an apathy so pervasive that I almost reveled in it. I felt a blissful calm as I looked upon the world, removed. I could not seem to care about anything at all. Needles of emotion crept back in by evening.

Then I listened to the new Grimes album twice in a row. The lyrics are already up on AZLyrics, so I read them and I felt like myself again...not because of Grimes necessarily, but because I was immersing myself in something that came from creativity and light.

I miss the person I used to be before the library...not that the library made me any kind of way necessarily. It's maybe that adulthood settled into me at the same time that I began there. 

I used to be quite simple. I experienced life in real time and I didn't care what anyone thought about my reactions to it. I am a simple girl, yet I tried to appear complex. Why? Because others do that?

With the term "adult" came anxiety, worry, thinking thinking thinking. Thoughts so plentiful that they crippled me into a state of inaction. I stopped trying to see beyond its mass...and maybe fell asleep. 

That post-storm mist is finally dissipating and I don't like what I've become. I've become this thing that worries and doesn't stim and doesn't live and doesn't move and doesn't dance. My ways of coping have always been my own. Why did I start using conventional methods? 

As a child, I created a structure all by myself that I lived quite happily within. I had it all figured out by age 15. I knew how to regulate myself. I got so lost.

I appear distant and unfriendly when I take care of myself, perhaps even vacant. I am tired of trying to be this congenial creature. I'm more like a Darcy than a Jane. I'm more Gahan than Gore. I'm so tired of being nervous and surrounded by people. 

defaults

I kind of hate that everything I write here lately is just sadness. anxiety. depression. woe.

The facts are that I am healthy. I have a home. I have friends. I have family. I have a great job...several, in fact. I have resources.

But these things fall away when your brain isn't ok. And it's not as if I won't survive. I am resilient and like I said, I have resources.

But the only things I think are moment-to-moment survival. I'm trying not to complain because so many others have it so much worse, which is why I won't promote this particular blog.

There's been a death in my best friend's immediate family. I don't even have the words for how she must be feeling right now. I keep trying to offer paltry advice on what I know of PTSD but all I have to compare her experiences to is the stupid tornado.

And THAT is something I really really wish with all of my heart that I could forget. I'm tired of being a wreck every time the wind blows. I'm tired of the anxiety that descended upon my brain in 2011 that hasn't let go. I've had more of it in the last 4 years than the rest of my life combined.

I went to Florida for the funeral. I left my wallet in Florida. Because I didn't have my ID at the airport I had to undergo a background check, have my bags thoroughly searched, and a thorough pat-down (with gloves and everything). Because of that, I haven't wanted to be touched since then even though the woman was very professional. I dreamed of being molested. I keep feeling my breasts being grabbed at (even though that is NOT what happened at all).

I'm really quite fragile.

I know I need therapy. And probably medication. But instead I curl into a ball. I drink. I cry. I take shallow breaths.

Sometimes this world wreaks death and disaster and trauma and isn't kind at all. It takes good people from us. It takes down our childhood homes. It scatters our sentimental objects. It rapes and it kills and it decimates us.

But there's also a wealth of good people on this earth...people willing to help without being asked. People ready to give you exactly what you need before you even know you need it. There is so much goodness in other beings on this earth. We do what we can to help each other.

I know I will survive this depression like I've survived all others. I've GOT to believe I will eventually ignore a thunderstorm like I used to pre-2011. That stupid word: hope. But it's there and peace will come as it always has. Goodness and calm are more prevalent than malice and upheaval.

As time (and hormones) would have it...

I'm again sitting at a computer tasked with updating my blog whilst under the influence of brain chemistry that is (and has been for over a week now) causing, but is not limited to:

*anxiety
*sweating
*not sweating when I am so hot I could DIE (usually in the middle of the night)
*acne of the volcanic variety
*bloating
*a pervasive hatred of every one and every thing in my path
*clumsiness
*impatience
*pinched nerves? I don't know...there's this exciting new aspect to my extreme PMS that is presenting itself as a neck injury. It very well might BE a poorly-timed neck injury.
*constipation
*overall confusion and inability to perform basic tasks

The fun thing about hormones is that one really never knows when the dragon-breath of fiery hell will descend upon thee or for how long or WHYYYYYYYY. Sometimes I don't even realize my period is about to arrive until it's herrrrre(!!) and I'm curled in a ball on the floor hoping I don't die. And I need a change of pants. Sometimes I'm an emotional wrecking ball for two weeks beforehand and the period itself is like a shot of dopamine and cupcakes. Sometimes the whole thing is uneventful. Sometimes the

ENTIRE.

THREE WEEKS.

beforeduringandafter is a torment I feel I will never emerge from.

That's been my month. The really exciting part is that I will probably finally start the damn flow of blood and tissue from my lady-parts sometime tomorrow as I work among small children in the library (small children that squeal and squeak and cry and frequently scream like pterodactyls) from 9am-4pm. As soon as I get off work we're due for thunderstorms all evening. great. just. fucking. fantastic.

I only have like 4 beers in my house. No WAY is that enough sedation-aids to make it through this week.

P.S.-- I'm sick of not being allowed to talk about period stuff. I usually do to a degree anyway, but this is officially me no longer holding back. I have what could be diagnosed as PMDD (Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder) which basically means that I have extreme susceptibility to hormone fluctuations and really intense PMS. I think women should speak up about it more because it's something that effects us. We are hardcore for enduring it. Most women can endure it without others having any idea they are, unlike me. ;)

P.S.S.-- You don't need to be concerned about me. It's my body and everything works itself out. I could be completely fine tomorrow and the entire week after that. I'm venting. I have to do it...it's like a compulsion.

* anxiety *

is an acquaintance I'd like to unfriend...that sounded cooler in my head.

Having one of those general malaise days. One of those occasions in which you know FOR SURE that you're the biggest loser in the entire world and why would anyone like you and will you ever get the things in life you want probably not why even try, etc etc.

Everything I think today is a thought the most emo of emos would think is ridiculous. And I KNOW it is ridiculous to find myself the WORST person ever. Surely, someone sucks more than me. And yet I am on the precipice of panic all day anyway. Great fun. Good times. Noodle salad.

I know I need to post a blog 'cause I said I'd post one every Saturday and it's Tuesday. This is the result of me forcing myself to blog. And typing might just calm me. Haven't taken a Valium yet...

The older I get the more I realize that I'm just not meant for noise, people, or stimuli of any kind. Earlier as I was working at the children's desk a child was screaming in that special hell way that kids scream and he sustained it for about 45 minutes. I went mad after the first five minutes. The mother was immune.

Also am experiencing a particularly high level of my particular form of what I am convinced is dyspraxia (aka Developmental Coordination Disorder: in which one has "trouble manipulating objects in the physical universe", has poor working memory, and cannot remember steps in sequence, etc). This makes me not want to move, like at ALL. This makes me drop everything. This makes me fall down. This makes my anxiety at not being able to do normal things that other people can do easily even MORE pronounced. I know I know, poor disabled Stephanie. Boo-fucking-hoo!

People have a tendency to ask why you're anxious when you claim you are. This is a question like "why are you depressed?" The whole reason why it sucks so bad and that you cannot logic yourself out of it is that there is no reason! Brain chemistry, maybe? Perhaps hormones? That's brain chemistry too though, right?

The rabbit-hole of a reason I'm cooking up this time is that I feel like I have no skills in this life. No people skills. No crafting skills. No art skills. Anything that requires me to work with my hands is intensely difficult for me. The only thing I find mostly easy is typing. I don't like to drive cars or ride a bike or run because of that whole "manipulating objects in the physical universe" thing. I don't drive in front of others especially.

When I'm alone I can kind of function. I still drop things and fall, but I don't have to know that anyone else knows. I can just be. I can dance and run into doorways without being comedy. Most of the time I'm ok with being comedy, if someone is a nice person they can laugh at me. It's when they're TRYING to be nice by not laughing that makes me self-conscious. What am I even talking about anymore?

I hate everything and everyone...not really, I love YOU of course.

(untitled)

I believe we all have something within the labyrinth of our minds that no one else can offer, but that doesn't mean I know what the something is that I bring to the table.

I've built a mythology around my life and my past and who I think I am, but that doesn't mean anyone else will ever recognize that structure. Maybe no one else is meant to see inside the worlds in our heads. When people become famous it's because someone has recognized their brains. It means they've seen inside your grey matter and they recognize themselves in there somewhere. But when you see that they've seen you, how do you come back from that? Fame destroys everything it touches, doesn't it? How can you remain real when everyone thinks they know you?

The tiny thought that I might be a career librarian passed through a couple of weeks ago, but that Master's degree has already whispered into someone else's ears. I'm far too disabled to ever hold down a full time job and that's not insecurity...it's fact. I won't effect change in this life beyond my tiny circle of family and friends. Few among us really do.

I spend my days working, reading, watching TV, playing Animal Crossing, writing blogs, broadcasting radio, maybe I work out, maybe I eat some Pad Thai. At worst I'm ineffectual. At best I'm barely noticed. I know there's some kind of art inside my brain, but I don't know the circumstances that will bring it out of me, and onto you.

I'm writing in journals again. I've made it 32 years in this world without psychotropic medication, though far more sane than I benefit from it. Is holding out noble? Do I really want to feel everything?

I have a husband that tolerates all aspects of my crazy with grace and kindness. I didn't die in 2011. I have three wonderful animals that follow me around the house as if I'm their Snow White. I survived multiple abusive and/or controlling men. I have a great job. TWO great jobs. My mother continues to take care of me way beyond the reasonable time period in which she was charged. My grandparents are two of the most amazing people in the entire universe. I love my family. I have a best friend that has continually forgiven me for being the worst. Everyone is kind to me. But I give so little in return because I have so little to give.

I always thought of myself as an accepting person that loves everyone, but I'm starting to realize I dislike more people than I like. Though I somehow still believe my requirements for trusting someone are reasonable, I trust VERY few people. All I want in a companion is acceptance and authenticity. I want the self they show to be the real one. I want to surround myself with people that aren't racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc. That's truly it. But so few people seem to be themselves.

We all wear masks so often we don't know who we are anymore. I can't wear the mask for long. I couldn't wear it 8 hours a day. I distrust those motivated by power or the need to be liked.

I push everyone away because I don't know how to connect. It will all find its way in time.

stop. making. sense. // a tattoo story

Last night I was asked if there's a story behind this tattoo. I'm TERRIBLE at telling stories, so this blog is an attempt to tell it better than I did almost 24 hours ago...

When I was a teenager I had a subscription to Alternative Press magazine. Back in the mid-to-late nineties, it covered music that was actually pretty good. They sent out sampler mix CDs every season during 1998. Man, that was so awesome. It was the only year they did it (while I was subscribing, anyway).

One day, I assume because of my subscription to AP, I received a simple postcard in the mail: black background and the word "STOP." in red typeface. Some time later (I think it was a week) I received a second postcard just like it with the word "MAKING."; "SENSE." followed another increment of time later.

I was fascinated. I taped the postcards together and put them on my bulletin board by the computer desk in the dining room. Those postcards moved with me, usually displayed by my desk, until weather took them away from me. I can't find images of them on the internet, but I swear I didn't make them up.

I sometimes have this ability to enjoy things for my own made up reasons without wondering why they were created. The back of the postcards must have explained that they were a promotional tool for a Talking Heads concert DVD being released (1999), but I don't remember wondering what the postcards were advertising. I didn't know it had anything to do with Talking Heads until many years later.

I like Talking Heads. They're my #34 artist according to my last.fm stats. I don't mind the few people that recognize my tattoo as a Talking Heads reference thinking that I got the tattoo because I'm a fan, but I didn't. I've never even seen the concert DVD!

The reasons I was enamored by the postcards and the reasons I got the words tattooed on my arm are entirely because of my personal conceptions of the words and the way they were delivered to my consciousness. I truly enjoyed the anticipation of waiting to "make sense" of what the postcards wanted to tell me. When the final postcard arrived and the idea that it wasn't supposed to make sense was revealed to me, I placed an ironic meaning into it. I kept those postcards as long as I could to remind me not to place meaning in life. No one I've ever talked about these postcards to remembers receiving them. It's the coolest piece of promotional advertisement I've ever seen, though obviously it didn't have the intended effect on me.

I got the tattoo because I no longer have the postcards. I got the meaningless tattoo to remind me of the ultimate meaning of life...that there is no meaning to life...except 42, of course. :)

So that's it. I like Talking Heads, but I like reminding myself not to take anything seriously more. I quite like being a meaningless speck in a gigantic and spectacular universe. There are a lot of us and some of us are pretty cool.

It's that time again...

To assess the year past and plan for the year future.

A trip to Springfield to see my BFF Kim today started sorting out the analysis. The smoke (or "fog bank of twat mist" if you will--you probably won't, but that's a hilarious phrase I heard last night from a Patton Oswalt comedy special) of my brain cleared and now I know five things about 2015 I didn't know before.

 one  // I'd like to focus on less fragmented attention. For example, when I'm enjoying a bit of entertainment on a television screen, I'd like to not also be checking Instagram and Facebook. When I'm listening to music, I'd like to spend the visual part of my senses reading lyrics, walking, writing in a journal, drawing, or simply sitting in one of the many spaces in my house designed for enjoying sound (attic space, chair by the stereo in the dining room, etc). A scattered attention span can make a person feel spread out like a sticky film...clinging unpleasantly to the world without being OF the world.

 two  // My most important priority this year is friendships and family, especially Kim. She just moved from Florida back to Springfield. Gas is cheap right now. I work part time. Kim is my best friend in the universe and she's close again. It's too easy to let real people slip by as if you have all the time in the world. I could easily spend a day a week with her, and if I do, I'll laugh more, I'll engage with the universe more...a universe with people like her in it. I'm on the precipice of a great era of my life, and I don't want to miss it.

 three // I'd like more music in my life. Not only in quantity, but in quality. I'd like to subscribe to Spotify as many months as I can afford to do so this year. I'd like to spend more time listening to music for the sake of listening to music and reveling in the kind of meditative thoughts that accompany pure listening environments. I'd like to spend more time listening to my iPod, cassettes, CDs, and records instead of listening from devices with distractions (iPhone, Mac). In other words, get to know the 10,000 songs I already own BETTER.

 four  // I'd like to write a lot more than I wrote this year. Namely, I want to create a schedule for updating this blog that includes writing in it at least once a week. I'll put out two or three zines in 2015 too. I'd like to do at least two of the three NaNoWri Months (April, June, and November). I'd like to get back into personal journaling, my "79 cent therapist".

 five  // There are a few things I started this year that I'd like to continue on a more regular basis: I'd like to run two or three times a week. I'd like to put up a video on my YouTube channel at least once or twice a month. I'd like to read at least 40 books. I'd like to continue to put time and effort into the radio station because it's the most rewarding creative project of my life so far and I really love it.

Eventually, I'll start MAKING my own music, but I still don't know if this is the year...if I'm ready. I did open and use GarageBand yesterday for the first time ever to record radio intros with Michael's fancy new microphone. I do consider that step one, but step two could be months off. I don't know if DJing is for me either, but if more opportunities present themselves this year, I'll take them until I know for sure.

I accomplished almost nothing I set out for myself for 2014, but I did a few big things I never planned (new more rewarding job at the library, started the YouTube channel, started the radio station, and I DJed three different gigs). I feel good about 2014 but even better about 2015.

Let's do this!

first radio broadcast

was a total success. All my labor fruits (still with the birthing puns?) were completely worth it. A bunch of this won't make sense to a lot of my besties, but I wish to get it all out there. 

What I had to learn and endure to start this radio station was years in the making, complicated, and time-consuming. I am actually really proud of myself for sticking with the process and learning the code, the tools, and the chutzpah to get through it all and bring my mixes to the masses.

Watching television wasn't really a thing we did in my family growing up. I spent most of my childhood outside with my radio boombox.

When I was a wee child I used to tape songs from the radio on my little boombox. I later graduated to owning CDs and cassettes of my own, dubbing THEM on my little boombox. Sometime in 2001ish, my mom got a cd burner and I began making a few mix CDs alongside the mountain of cassettes that kept me company throughout the '90s. I also received a minidisc player in the early 2000s and made some minidisc mixes, though that contraption never took off. 

My early '20s saw a sadness that was reflected in a draught of mixes, but in 2009 I got an iPod and started making a lot of playlists in iTunes. Sometime that year I attempted to pull off a radio station. I did a bunch of research and started a live365 station. My first broadcast stumbled so severely that I cut it off before the end of "Tits on the Radio", my first broadcasted song. I think I didn't have enough bandwidth and didn't realize I needed to outsource the server in order to have even one listener at a time. I gave up easily.

The idea of a radio station has needled at me my entire life. In high school, I shadowed a local DJ for the day. I wasn't outgoing enough to use the opportunity to create contacts and get my foot in the door, though they were very nice to me, let me pick a lot of the music, put me on air. They liked my voice and even recorded a few promos/commercials with me.

I couldn't shake the idea of running my own station, so last week I finally jumped back into research. I found out that what I needed was a server, a streaming platform, and a source. By outsourcing your server, you can have simultaneous listeners. I signed up for live365 again, but their limitations are just too stifling. At their $15/mo plan you can upload 350MB (about 80 songs) of songs to their storage "locker" for offline playlists, but there were many rules about which songs can be played within which time periods, etc. It took hours to upload the first batch of songs that became quite repetitive after 24 hours. I had originally planned to upload a new set of songs once a week, but the process was so tedious. Further tedious was the fact that my $15/mo only bought me 10 simultaneous listeners to a live show. The service had an app, but it was laden with annoying audio ads. Though I launched this station, I abandoned it a second time in 5 years just a few days later.

After many more hours of research I discovered a radio server that was free and could stream live to 200 simultaneous listeners. At the free level, it's only available on flash-based browsers with a very '90s look, but it works like a dream alongside a computer program called "nicecast" (which is a whole other story about figuring out how to configure it) which is serving as my streaming conduit between the server and the source (iTunes, microphone, record player, wherever the music is coming from). THEN I found out Nicecast only streams an hour at a time at their free level, after which I'd have to pay a $60 licensing fee. I'd have had to use this program with live365 as well so not only would I be paying $15/mo for a limited and clunky radio experience, but then I'd have to shell out an additional $60 as well. Radio is essssspensive, yo.

I elected to use the free server and pay the $60 licensing fee. Then I decided I really HAVE to be able to stream in a non-flash way. I have to be available on apps, so today I paid for a "pro" account on My Radio Stream which was only $17 for 3 months. 

Then I started the research process on how to get your station listed on a website that hosts directories. I chose a service called Tune In, and have filled out forms to list my station with them. I have to wait 48 hours for them to judge me worthy, which I really hope they do, and then Mixtress Radio will be on apps (Tune In Radio is the app, which will hopefully have me in their directory by Sunday or Monday, if all goes as planned).

Today, I've been "on the air" since 4pm and it is now after 8. I've loved every minute of it. I am so happy. During the course of the broadcast, I only had about 4 listeners total, but I'm not even upset. I know my listeners will grow and even if they don't...I'll scream into the void unheard for a long time before the excitement wears off and I wonder why no one likes me.

When I started the YouTube channel I told myself I'd make 10 videos and if I didn't have 25 subscribers by that time, I'd quit. My plan for the radio station is thus: if I regularly average 5 listeners per show (Fridays from 4p-8p CST) I will continue broadcasting after my three months of "pro" broadcasting status is up.

For now, I am over the moon. So excited to share all my cheesy playlists live with the world. 

YouTube for dummies.

I'm learning to upload videos, splice videos, cut clips, add clips, change audio tracks and use crates as makeshift tripods for my iPhone.

It's all very frustrating and rudimentary and strange.

I've done four videos so far and uploaded all but one of them to my channel. They are ASMR videos. Here, Laci can explain it to you:



I'm a little embarrassed about them because they seem so self-indulgent. Most of them are me showing off things I own and talking in a soft and soothing voice. One commenter described my voice as "is good but is sounds slutty". But it's a thing. Like, people DO this. I'm doing this. So this is my coming out blog post, I guess. Most people aren't going to get it. I plan to make about ten of these and then if I have at least 25 subscribers and feel like I'm improving and getting something out of making them, I will continue.

So, if you want to see what I'm on about, go to here. And maybe don't talk to me about it in person if you don't get it...not yet. I'm too delicate. I'm at a stage where everything is really bad quality.

"You see, our band's moving toward this new sound where....we suck, so...practice." -Oz from Buffy

My computer HATES my new video editing habit. It says it's too full of audio files to hold any video files and it ESPECIALLY doesn't want to alter or play those video files. It demands more memory and more space. This is officially the moment where I start to think I might need a new computer. But I've only had this one 4 years. It's got juice left in it. I can beef it up a bit.

Seriously, like, do you KNOW how ridiculously long video editing takes? I'm not even doing anything serious. I'm taking several videos and splicing them together, maybe trimming a few seconds off the end, changing an audio track. That's ALL I'm trying to do. Nothing fancy. Nothing "Hollywood".

This is how long it takes:
*video preparations: 15 minutes
*recording video: 30 minutes
*re-recording audio for video because the wind SUCKS: 30 minutes
*transferring video from phone to computer: 5 minutes
*opening and editing video in quicktime: 15 minutes
*saving edited video to computer: 2 hours!
*opening video in imovie because I need to do MORE editing that quicktime can't do: 30 minutes
*editing in imovie: I don't even know because I haven't finished the last step yet!
*saving after editing in imovie: dunno yet.
*uploading finished video to YouTube: 4-6 HOURS.

Total time uploading one crappy little 20-minute video of me showing you the contents of my purse: 9-12 hours. OMG. Really?! Reallly?!?

I've never been very good at doing things that are hard or require skill. But I'm willing to learn the basics of most things I want to do. I can knit a scarf. I can hand-sew holes in the armpits of my sweaters. I can record a video with my iPhone and upload it to YouTube. After tonight's foray into the deep waters of video-editing, I may know how to add a different audio track to a video I recorded.

I'm whiny and I just drank a glass of wine from a bottle that's been open at LEAST three weeks.