Well, it’s officially 2010. One year ago I set a number of goals for myself and throughout the year I tried to see as many of them through as I could. Let’s see how I did.
I wonder the same thing about folks who check for new email every 5 minutes, follow 5,000 people on Twitter, or try to do anything sane with 500 RSS feeds.
Some graze unlimited bowls of information by choice. Others claim it’s a necessity of remaining employed, landing sales, or “staying in the loop.” Could be. What about you?
How do you know when you’ve had “enough?”
Not everything, all the time, completely, forever. Just enough. Enough to start, finish, or simply maintain.
(via Enough by Merlin Mann on 43 Folders)
After I read this short essay by Merlin Mann, I got rid of a good handful of the news feeds I was reading in Google Reader. My life already feels better, and has continued to for the week or so since I did it. Turns out I didn’t need up-to-the-minute headlines on Tiger Woods’s love life and fifty funny headlines a day from Fark and The Onion. If I’m aching for a funny headline, I can always peek at the site sometime. But I don’t need it every day. I certainly don’t miss it yet.
I also did a big cleanup on Twitter recently that has made it a simple joy again. Something to fill in gaps for a quick bit of communication or an enjoyable tidbit of a friend’s day. It’s not something I feel like I have to check every five minutes any more just to keep up. Turns out I don’t need to keep up with every move every band and person I know at every moment.
Suggested goal: Sometime before the new year, go through the websites, email newsletters, Twitter accounts, news feeds, newspapers, magazines and social networks that take your attention and ask yourself whether or not each of them is essential to your daily survival. Try to get rid of a third or even just a quarter of it. Then open your eyes to all the things you have time for with those extra moments.
She was forced to have sex with hundreds of men before she turned 10. After such a brutal past, what does her future hold? In a Marie Claire exclusive, Sreypov Chan tells her phenomenal life story.
(via Diary of a Sex Slave: Child Prostitution in Cambodia)
Have I ever told you about my sister? I don’t think I have. Not on my blog, at least.
Jessica works in Pattaya, Thailand: a city renowned for its prostitution problem. For many severely perverted men around the world, this is a great place. For most everyone else, it’s one of the darkest places on earth.
My sister’s job in Pattaya is to play music and hang out in bars on Walking Street (the central location for most of the city’s prostitution) and elsewhere around town, befriending prostitutes and pointing them to resources to help them get out of the endless cycle and into a safe, healthy job. She also runs a church for many of the women who have escaped the sex industry.
Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to visit Jessica and see what she does in Pattaya. We went to her church, strolled Walking Street (during daylight hours) and got a feel for her life. She deals with stories similar to Sreypov Chan’s all the time.
If I hadn’t known it before, those couple days that I got to see Pattaya proved to me that my sister is strong. If you want more stories, not just bad ones, but the happy endings, you should check out her blog. (And, she didn’t ask me for this, but if you would like to make a donation to fund what she’s doing there, you can do so here. It’d make for a damn good Christmas gift.)
I’ve had a morbid curiosity about murder lately. My mind gets lost in all the “why”s. Why do people do it? Why is it that some seem more capable of it than others? And why in the world am I thinking about it more than usual?
It’s not like I know anyone who was murdered recently (or ever, really). There haven’t been any in this area lately that I know of. The only one I’m remotely connected to personally is the killing of the older sister of an acquaintance some fifteen years ago that became a media spectacle for a while.
As best I can figure, it’s a combination of things: being stranded in the admittedly haunting Omaha, Nebraska, in the middle of the night alone; reading a few days later about a murder spree in the Omaha area that inspired Springsteen’s song “Nebraska” (the coincidental timing of the two was chilling); reading Nick Hornby’s description of the Suicide song “Frankie Teardrop” before listening to it; being reminded of the movie Capote and his own curiosity that inspired In Cold Blood (which my curiosity recently drove me to buy at a used book store); the melancholy darkness of the fall that affects me so deeply; the chill of a full moon at experienced alone at midnight. It could be any of these things, or a combination of all of them. I don’t know, nor will I ever.
I don’t mean to say I want to see a murder, or even the aftermath of one. I’d much rather live in a world where no man killed another man. I see no situation where killing one’s own kind is justifiable. And yet, when I hear of murder — especially senseless, premeditated or unjustified murder, murder outside the realm of “crimes of passion” — my mind spins wildly. The thought of a cold and lifeless body taken too soon, the way its image must haunt all who see it, the suspense of a killer in one’s midst.
Perhaps it’s only human to wonder about things that we will never do. It makes me wonder if those inclined to murder have a “morbid” curiosity about, I don’t know… making cupcakes, or living a life rich with love and emotional support given and received.
It also makes me wonder how it is that humans are so similar and different all at once. Relatively speaking, I suppose it’s no stranger that I like music more than others than it is that some are inclined to kill more than others. But what is it about human nature that allows for such wildly diverse moral and psychological states while still providing some sense that we are all the same?
I hope this curiosity doesn’t lead any to think I’m unstable; I think I’m more balanced, satisfied and happy with my life than ever before. I’m not any closer to wanting to commit such an act; in fact, I’m probably further from it than ever, not that I was anywhere close to begin with. I know I can’t be alone in my ability to wander into dark territory without feeling unstable, but I don’t know of too many others who would admit to such a curiosity.
Now that I think about it, the fact that books like In Cold Blood and songs like “Nebraska” are popular speaks to a thread in humanity similar to what I’m talking about. Maybe it’s just weird to talk about it. But then, when have I ever been normal?
When I came across a memoir wrapped up in a series of mix tapes, I knew I’d found something special. Even though I had other books to read, they had to be paused for Love is a Mix Tape.
Written by Rob Sheffield, a rock journalist and long-time fan of pretty much any good music, Love is a Mix Tape is an autobiography of sorts. Each chapter starts with a mix tape — a listing of songs important to that point in Sheffield’s story. He traces his roots, telling the reader how music has always played an important part of his life. He talks about growing up as a Catholic boy in Boston listening to Zeppelin, a twenty-something listening to Pavement, a thirty year old discovering Missy Elliot. But, most importantly, he tells us how he met Renee, the love of his life.
It’s no spoiler: Rob and Renee aren’t together for long. They got five years before she died suddenly. I knew it was coming, and yet was still surprised when it happened. Halfway through the book, Sheffield’s memoir suddenly transforms into a reflection of how he coped with loss, sometimes through friends and family, but mostly through music.
Perhaps I took this story more to heart than most. After all, as a wannabe music journalist with a girl by my side who has drastically altered the playlist of my life, I get where he’s coming from a bit. Reading what it was like for him to suffer was nearly unbearable for me; I hate hearing what it might be like to lose my other half so quickly and suddenly.
I guess this was a book meant for me. It was encouraging to see that someone else keeps track of what he was listening to, and has found a way to use it to learn and grow and reflect from his own history. I hope I can find a purpose for my own history-recording someday as well, though I’d prefer for it to be a happier experience.
If you feel music, if it helps you to live and love and grow and reflect, Love is a Mix Tape is for you. Call me a sap or an over-dramatic fool, but love and music were meant for each other and this book nails down the idea like none other could.
I love Scott Adams. I read his blog daily and enjoy many of his thought experiments and meanderings. I was a fan of his comic Dilbert by the time I hit 7th grade. Yeah, I was that kid. I suppose it’s no surprise I had an office job by the time I was 16.
So why it took so long to get around to reading God’s Debris — his short, free thought experiment of a book — is a mystery to me. I literally started last night and finished this morning. It was, as expected, an easy read that was thoroughly thought-provoking.
The entire book is a conversation between two men. One is teaching the other his theory on life, the universe and everything based on the simplest explanations for everything.
The climactic idea they reach is this: God, being omnipotent and all-knowing, can know everything except what would happen were He to no longer exist. So in an effort to maintain His omniscience, He destroys himself. This destruction is our Big Bang, and the entire existence of the universe is a collection of His debris, slowly reformulating into a single consciousness as God recollects himself back into His all-powerful self.
Yeah, it sounds crazy and weird. That’s what’s so fun about it. And the fact that Adams explains it so easily only makes it that much better of a read.
I highly recommend God’s Debris for anyone who enjoys exploring philosophy and religion. You can download it as a free PDF and it’s a very quick read, so there’s not much excuse not to read it.
Yet another Scott Hahn book. In other words, another book arguing in favor of Catholicism from a guy who used to be a Presbyterian minister and theologian.
This one is an examination of the Catholic Mass, explaining many of its parts, but mostly looking at it from the context of the book of Revelation. He argues, rather convincingly, that Armageddon is the current time we are in and that, while we are in the midst of Mass, we are actually in heaven, and not just symbolically. Instead of looking at political events in search of the end times, he matches up almost every key aspect of the final book of the Bible with an aspect of Mass. I won’t list those things off here because, well, there’s a lot of them. Plus, I’m no expert at Catholicism or the book of Revelation so a lot of it was new to me.
This book will be surprising to most evangelicals, who try to draw parallels with current events while they flip through Revelation, but (this was surprising to me) many educated in the Catholic tradition won’t find much of this new at all. It became clear to me as I was reading that Revelation was written with the Church and Mass in mind, not as some wacked-out prophecy about how the world will end. Sure, it was written in a strange format, but it’s impressive how much of it lines up with the procession of Mass and the overall structure of the Church.
Like I said, I won’t try to argue in favor of the ideas presented in The Lamb’s Supper because I’d fail quickly. But if you’re interested in end times theology, the Catholic Mass or finding heaven on earth, this will be an eye-opening book for you.
A few years ago (2005 or so, I think?) I happened upon the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die. It is exactly what it sounds like. A group of music historians and critics and journalists got together and decided what 1001 albums from 1950 to now are the ones everyone should hear before they die. (Important note: They weren’t necessarily out to find the best albums, just the ones that are the most significant for whatever reason.)
Being in major exploration mode at the time, and having an unlimited Rhapsody subscription, I found a copy of the full list and got to work.
Today, I finished. I listened to every album from start to finish, to the best of my ability. I took a few breaks in there, and when I got down to the final few that were difficult to seek out, the pace slowed. But today, I am done.
What did I learn? I learned that a lot of older music is hard to appreciate without proper context (having the book handy might have helped with that). I learned that Frank Sinatra and Tom Waits are awesome and Joan Baez is not. I learned that people were doing some pretty inventive stuff well before I imagined anyone would have tried. I learned that a lot of the best music in the world takes several listens to enjoy.
But most of all I learned that, when music historians look back in history, these last 50 years are going to mark a very important milestone in the timeline of music. It was recordable and reproducible and, as a result, everyone learned tricks from everyone else all over the world. Ginger Baker (British drummer who played in Cream) collaborated with Fela Kuti, the premiere musician in African pop in the 60s and 70s, whose influence over world music is still heard today.
The point is, music has changed our culture, and every culture, in the past century in ways that it had never before. And as a fan of music, it’s exciting that I’ve gotten a good sampling of the hottest part of that timeline.
Will I ever do a listening project of this magnitude ever again? Probably not. But it was worth it.
Now, someone buy me the book as a trophy, please.
You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.
Ernest Hemingway
I don’t think I have SAD, or if I do, it’s a very mild variety. All I know is that when the fall comes around, my mind goes into overdrive, pushing me into a place where I analyze my place in the world.
Maybe it’s because school always started in the fall, or that autumn ushers away long, sunny days, but fall always brings about an analytical side of me and a sense of urgency for spring to arrive.
The combination of being in Nashville (where fall is much more obvious than here), seeing and saying goodbye to my girlfriend and brother far too quickly, a few dark nights and a few weights I carry on my shoulders, this time of year has arrived.
It feels like sitting in a dark room just after twilight; that period of time when you’re wrapped up in a book in an empty house, the sun is going down and it’s just getting to the point where you need to turn on a light or start a fire to continue reading. It’s comfortable, but slightly off-center. There’s a sense of loneliness, but while still knowing there is company a room away.
For me, fall has a soundtrack. mewithoutYou’s second and third albums, Ryan Adams’s Love is Hell, Neko Case, Joshua James. They’re all sad, full of thought and despair, looking back on better times.
I know this seems dark, but I welcome this every year. It’s a part of who I am, and it’s the one emotional season I am guaranteed to experience year by year, regardless of the circumstances.
Is there anyone else who feels the sadness of fall?
In a world where there can be instant availability of all music, the major labels want to sell CDs. They’re afraid to piss off Wal-Mart, and they’re sacrificing their audience to other forms of media. The transition to digital distribution is wrenching. But you’ve got to see the opportunities. Believe me, if Spotify launched its free version in America, there’d be instant hysteria. Akin to the early days of Napster.
Don’t think Spotify doesn’t pay for the music. It does. It’s just banking on building a bigger business, willing to lose money now in order to make tons tomorrow. The music business is unwilling to risk, labels and publishers are desperately trying to keep their old creaky business model functioning. This is a recipe for death. We’re on the cusp of a golden age of music. The only people standing in the way are us.
(via Lefsetz Letter – More E-Books)
My girlfriend got me started reading the Lefsetz Letter a couple weeks ago and it’s already paying off in spades. This guy gets it, just like everybody else except, well… the guys running the music industry.
Every week I want an e-book reader more and more. Just reading about the Kindle makes me want to read more books.
For all-you-can-eat music, I’ve been using Rhapsody for years. It works well enough, but it isn’t ideal. I really can’t wait to see what Spotify has to offer when the stodgy old guys finally realize it isn’t going to kill their already-dying industry.
My girlfriend was a music business major. She has gone (and continues to go) to many seminars and panels on the current state of the industry. Almost every industry guest speaker that came in told her and her classmates, “Hey, we messed up the industry and we don’t know how to fix it, so it’s up to you guys to figure that out.” One time, after hearing maybe the tenth guest speaker say this, my girl stood up and said, “So why don’t you quit so we can have your job?” Tally one more on the “reasons I love this girl” board.
