I did a recording of Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal quite a while back. That turned out fairly well, but I wasn’t completely pleased with the voice or recording quality. I’ve since gotten a better microphone, and I worked on the voicing a bit more with this one and went for a more active voice.
Edgar Allan Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum
Feedback? Suggestions? Comments? Insults?
I still haven’t got the voice or recording exactly where I want it. This microphone does a better job of reproducing bass, so my voice isn’t entirely tinny here. I don’t have a soundproof room in which to record, either, so every now and then an ambient sound will work it’s way into the background. I’ll keep working at it though. Taking suggestions for another recording!
I have had the privilege of meeting many people over the short course of my time on this planet. Some have had a greater impact than others, but all have changed me in some way or another. It’s a concept that we don’t often think about, but every interaction with every person changes us in some way or another, from the smile you give to a store clerk, to the intimate friendship that you share with a brother or sister. When I encounter another person, I’m faced with choices. Should I just smile and nod? Should I stop and have a conversation with her? Should I ignore him altogether? Every choice we make adds to who we are, and every person we meet presents with a choice.
I often struggle with how I should interact with certain people. My goal is to like everyone and be liked by the same, but I’m not always the most social butterfly you’ve ever seen flit by your window. In fact, I’ve been (probably aptly) described as a turtle–a not-quite anti-social turtle who likes his comfy little shell. At a party or in a crowd, I’m just as happy talking to one person about the ceiling tiles as I am hanging out in a group of people sharing jokes. I also don’t do well with truthfully intimate relationships.
I sometimes tend to be so guarded that every person who doesn’t know me extremely well knows and sees a different face, and perhaps the faces don’t even know each other. I destroyed one of the best friendships I’ve ever had with that behavior, and I have since learned quite a bit. I’d like to think that I have improved, overall, quite dramatically because of that one catastrophe. This post isn’t meant to be about me, however; this is a post about you.
If you’re reading this, you know who I am, or we’ve had some sort of interactions before. I would like to thank you. Thank you for entering my life, and thank you for shaping and changing and helping me to expand who I am. Even if the extent of our interactions was a small conversation or an exchange of WordPress or Facebook comments, you managed to impact my life in some tiny way. I have learned that even negative interactions are, in the long run, often positive, for unless the consequences are so severe that recovery is not possible, the lessons learned are as valuable, and perhaps even more so, than those taught by mere vocalization or demonstration.
This is a post for everyone; everyone who has ever entered into my sphere of life or whose sphere of life I have intruded. This is a post for those whom I have not yet met, but whom I will. This is a post for those whom I never will meet, for I think that it applies even to you.
Christmas is approaching, quite rapidly, and for some this is fantastic, but for others, this will be a depressing and gloomy time of year. Just remember, you have a choice with every interaction this season. You can smile and be a positive experience, or you can become a painful lesson to someone else. In the same way, you don’t have to take offense or react negatively to negative interactions this year. Be thankful for the positive, and learn from the painful. More easily said than done, right? Perhaps, but then again, we’ll never do anything if we don’t make a conscious decision to try, and maybe by trying, we’ll find that we can.
In closing, thank you for your interactions. Thank you for being there. You have made a difference, even if you don’t see it.
A Short(ish) Dissertation on the Extent to which I love Technology and hate Las Vegas.
This past week has been a blur. I know, so cliché, but it really has. (Is it cliché to refer to a popular cliché as cliché when other people undoubtedly do the same?) Last Saturday, I boarded a plane and flew over the country, all the way to Las Vegas, Nevada. If you’ve never been to Las Vegas, I suggest you go. If you’re a gambler, you’ll love it (and most likely you’ll end up broke). If you like to see new things, you’ll find plenty in LV. If you have ever wanted to see the epitome of human depredation condensed into one thick, seething, noisy, obnoxious conglomerate of people, then Las Vegas is the place for you.
Las Vegas is one gigantic money-sucking pit. The entire purpose of the city is to squeeze every last coin from its tourist’s pockets. The first thing I saw when I disembarked from the plane was an array of “one-armed bandits” (slot machines). They sat there dinging away and hungrily flashing their ever-beckoning lights, and people sat in the seats and fed the slots, watching their credits dwindle to zero. Gambling. When one goes to leave the airport, one must find transportation, right? Of course right. Transport. Now that you’ve wasted some money in the slot machines and paid a taxi driver or bus driver or rental car fee, you can hand over some cash for lodging! Hotels. Of course, now everyone’s hungry. Care to spend $45 for a burger? Food. Oh, good, now that we’re where we wanted to go and comfortably rested, why don’t we check our emails? It’s only $10 a day for wifi! Internet. Maybe we could play some cards while we’re wandering through one of the countless casinos in the bottoms of all these hotels. More Gambling. Perhaps we could go see a show or visit a local attraction? Entertainment. Maybe we have loose morals and we’d like some company tonight. Erm… Entertainment? I could go on, but I have the feeling you get the point.
I did enjoy seeing the fountain show at the Bellagio, the volcano at the Mirage, and the luxurious decor in the other high-end temporary lodgings. I couldn’t help but feel, though, as I walked through all of the semi-opulence, how much waste was all around — the ridiculously expensive hotels and the fancy clothes and the pricey food and the silly trivialities on which people spend their money! The entire city centers around the gambling; it’s where the casinos really make their money, but then there’s the high price of everything else. The interesting thing is, everything combines to create an attraction in and of itself. People pay to see Las Vegas for Las Vegas! They pay to ride in limousines and helicopters and all of modes of exotic transport. All to see what? The product of their waste.
Oh well. This, I suppose, is why I’m not extremely wealthy. I’d spend it all on technology and charity.
Oh, I said technology up there, didn’t I? Did I mention that I actually went to see the NAB show? More on that tomorrow.