When I moved into my current apartment back in December 05, I made a very important decision. I decided not to take cable! That’s right, no TV for me. Though I’m sure the rates of things around here is far less than in certain parts of the country, I figured $50/mo. for a serverice that I don’t readily abuse anyway would be both pointless and cost-noneffective. And with my cable internet costing the same amount, and my ever decreasing presence at home, I’m wondering if that was a bad choice.

But by simply not having TV (even though I do own a boob-toob), I have chosen to not partake of a lot of things. I don’t get to catch up on the sweet shows that have appeared in the last year, nor do I get to enjoy a 5-hour sitting of Rachael Ray or Adult Swim anymore (sad). Granted, I ordered Netflix at the same time, and have been a dedicated customer since, so that takes off some edge, but it goes far deeper than viewing choices.

I was not aware of the amount of conversation that occurs centered around modern entertainment mediums. I can count the times on both my hands and yours and that guy’s over there that I’ve had to tell someone, “Sorry, I don’t have TV, I don’t know what you’re taking about.” I don’t know commercials like I used to. I can’t sit and chat about Family Guy or Aqua Teen, Venture Bros. and the like. I can’t even say I saw that documentary on Discovery Health, or whatever. I’ve made myself a media pariah. If I didn’t still spend way too much time online and didn’t work with newspapers everyday, I’d know nothing about the outside world.

Upsides: I read more. Much more. And I like to think that I’m smarter for it. I get to solve problems for myself instead of just saying, “If I wait another 30 minutes, they’ve figure it out for me.” Also, I don’t have to worry about catching my shows. And that $50/mo that I would have spent on Dumbo-vision, I can now spend on a real passion of mine: food. Not that I’m a great cook, I just like to eat. Cheers!

Also, since I’ve decidedly cut myself from about half the conversations people have, I get to start doing all the weird hermitty stuff, like keeping birds in my beard, and go to the mall just to remember what people look like. Yay creepy!

One state exam to go.
Mock interviews in a week.
Resume to edit.
References to obtain.
Applications to fill out.
Job fairs to attend.
Student Teaching on the horizon.

It’s getting realer and realer.

It’s only a matter of time before the truth of things starts to wash over me, but for right now, some of it doesn’t seem real. I’m in my fifth year of school, and I’m ready to graduate, but I just am having a hard time grasping that the changes could actually happen. I could actually begin a career I swore I’d never take.

This mighty and nearing threshold. I need to catch my breath a little here. I know that most of what I’m doing this semester is my practice run before the real qualifier meet. The nice lady who talked to our class last week told us that we need to find a program and stick with it for a couple years at least, because it looks bad to leave a school after just one year. So, its long haul, folks.

Questions loom. Should I just get the job that is close to home? Stay close, stay safe. Or should I stick my neck out there, try to get a job in a state that will accept my certification? I could really start living the life I’ve dreamed of if I did. Luckily, so much of my life right now is portable. Perhaps I should take advantage of this before I get too obligated.

Gosh, I don’t think I’ve thought about this quite that way before.

“It’s gluttony. If you’re a glutton about anything, you turn a desire into a need. Whatever you use drugs for, to relax, to free your mind, to play, when it gets to be a need, that’s the problem. Like my need for burritos. I would weigh four hundred pounds if I ate as many burritos as I craved. You set limits; you have to. It’s all a matter of discipline.”
–Constance Reed, from Weird Like Us

As I’m sitting here at work, reading this nice little book about Bohemian America, I come across this quote. It’s right in the middle of the section about drugs. Curiously enough, this book doesn’t denounce drugs as bad for you, nor does it advocate a life of complete inebriation. However, it does teeter between the two, explaing drugs as both good and bad. The previous section in the book was about sex, with a similar twist.

And here I am, blogging for the second time in 12 hours, the fourth time in 24 hours. Also, I’m drinking a Dr. Pepper, listening to my iPod, and thinking about the things I “need” to do today. Also, I’m thinking about if I’m gonna play more Animal Crossing, or if I’ll get back to ripping my CDs tonight, or if I’ll get to hang out with my friends, and about how bad I could go for a Hil’s burger right now.

So what of all of this do I need? Well, some, perhaps. I need to eat, because I’m hungry. I need to practice because I have a recital coming up. I do not need a DP, though I claim I do. I don’t need to play video games, and I don’t need to finish ripping CDs. And as much as it pains me, I don’t need to listen to my iPod all the time either.

There, I admitted it.

Now, its your turn? What things do you do everyday that you chalk up to need? How many of those things do you really need? Truly need?

I know I’ve got a longer list than just that up there.

In my car. Coming home from a simple night out with friends, watching TV. I round the corner, and this is what I hear: 

“Pale September
I wore the time like a dress that year
The autumn days swung soft around me like cotton on my skin
But as the embers of the summer
Lost their breath and disappearred
My heart went cold and only hollow rhythms
Resounded from within
But then he rose brilliant as the moon in full
And sank in the burrows of my keep

And all my armour falling down
In a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm
As I’m singing him to sleep

He goes along just as a water lily
Gentle on the surface of his thoughts his body floats
Unweighed down by passion or intensity
Yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts
And he finds a home in me for what misfortune sows
He knows my touch will reap

And all my armour falling down
In a pile at me feet
And my winter giving way to warm
As I’m singing him to sleep”
                                                    –Fiona Apple

And my face lights up in bliss, and my mind drifts to those that I wish I were with. To the people who hold my heart and mind day in and out. To those that wish me well, to those that love me.

So, as the song floats through my ears, and into my mind, and down my spine into my soul, I continue to drive back to my home. I do not steer my car elsewhere.

I have days, often, where I wished I’d picked up my bags a couple years ago, and left this armpit of a town. I wish I had decided that I needed to get lost in the world for a while, and done it. However, I’m scared, and I didn’t do it, and I don’t know if I’ll do it after I graduate.

I think about what I want to do with my life, and living it is right at the top. I often think about what it would be like to pick up and get a job in some other state and hope that I can get by. I’ve thought about what it would be like to stay here and try to get by. I’m not the sort to put myself in a turbulant situation, but I’m also not the type to stagnate. I’ve gotten by just fine up to this point, but I wonder what will come when i stagnate in this little place.

I focus on a salary for now. One day, I’ll be making money, and I like that idea. One day isn’t right now, so I have to strive for that. Maybe one of these days, I’ll get the balls to pack a bag and take off into the great wild wonder and just do what I can to make this life something I love.

As Garrison Keillor said, “Thank you God for this wonderful life, and forgive us if we don’t love it enough.”

Let’s talk about two of my favorite podcasts.

Escape Pod is weekly podcast bringing you fun short science fiction and fantasy. As with almost every podcast, you can listen to it on your computer, or download it and take it with you in the manner of your choosing. I put it on my precious iPod, and take it to work, where I listen while I arrange stacks of books and put magazines in chronological order. It definitely cuts through the tedium.

The host, Steve Eley, is a charismatic guy who always tries to put a relevant and thoughtful (and short) commentary on every story. He have a short narrative that keeps things real and personal. I highly recommend this podcast to anyone who like the genre, wants to hear new authors, and doesn’t always have time or money to shop for them. And if you like having your imagination stretched to its limits, check it out.

Next is Pseudo Pod, which offers a weekly dose of horror audio. This podcast has been giving me chills from the beginning, which wasn’t that long ago. One with a slightly higher determination than a slug could easily listen all the previous episodes.

Pseudo Pod is different when it comes to the genre. It doesn’t really dwell on the gore and violence of typical American horror. Instead, the authors that submit offer the subjective view of human psyche that can bring many unsleeping nights. I know there are two or three stories in the eight or so that have been published that have given me deep chills and a terrible sense of dread. If you like being scared, or at least intrigued, this is a good place to go.

To coincide and contradict myself, let’s talk about the positives of magick. Note, there are two kinds: what we will call “wand-waving” and what we will call “mob mind.”

In respect to the first, I can’t say one way or the other as to its true and personal existence. Thinking back on things, and asking some friends, I’ve discovered that I have had my fair share of magickal experiences, and those are both deeply personal and unprovable. Which is why I can’t justify it one way or the other. Regardless of whether it makes any sense at all, there have been events in some peoples’ lives that cannot to attributed to anything other than magick, I think. Be this a psychic happening, an actual spell, or just a weird collection of things that happened to them, these things cannot be reproduced, proven or falsified except through the account of one person’s perception. The event was real to that person, so we leave it there. Who are we…who am I…to judge them.

Magick of this type can serve in two functions: make us question reality or create a psychological trigger. Aleister Crowley, the famous mystic and magick R&D guy, says that magick is “the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with the will,” which can mean anything from adding symbolism to objects to making money come your way. Granted, Crowley is also famous for making a woman have sex with a goat. Go figure.

Most honest magicians would tell you that no magickal act works alone, and must be accompanied by something mental and physical. If you want that job, you have to apply first. Magick is only a catalyst. So if magick is personal, and not used irresponsibly, then how can I argue.

On to the Mob Mind.

We have all experienced this in one form or another. You are in a crowd, that crowd has a common purpose, the crowd acts, and you can’t help but be involved. Whether its a sports game, a seance, or a good old-fashioned ritual from any demonination, jumping in on occasion and letting things in the moment affect you is very natural. I know I get stirred up quite a bit when I’m in a Circle, and even when I don’t agree with every single thing addressed, sometimes I get a little giddy.

This is the kind of magick that really affects your life. When you leave, you are hanging on to a particular emotion and it slowly carves a hole into you, and lingers. Sometimes, the feeling is bad, sometimes good, but always, it stays around for a while. I like a big over the top production of any one of the Sabbats, and I can’t wait to actually attend one. It could be scary and joyous all that once, with so much stimuli.

So, though I’ve contradicted myself, magick is good. There, I said it.

Also, go listen to Kenny Garrett’s “Happy People” and dance. You need it. Trust me.

1. All things are metaphors
2. Eternity is now and here
3. If there is a divine, it is me, and nowhere else.
4. The stuggles of the one are shared by the many.
5. Follow your bliss.

These are the things I learned from listening to the “Power of Myth” conversations with Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers (see side bar). Like I said before, it was a revelation to listen to, and has answer quite a few questions, though I’m not sure I can articulate them all just yet.

The idea, alone, that all things are metaphors, opens a great big jar of worms, and an even bigger one of opportunity. This would mean that all the tales are simply fiction, and should be looked to for advice, not history. Also, all the actions gone before are mearly visions of what could be, and should be seen as tales. Even more prevalent, the concepts of God, and the concepts of religion, and the concepts of magick are what get in the way of finding a true truth inside the noise of living.

In a conversation Campbell had with a priest one day:
Priest: “Are you a priest, Mr. Campbell?
C: “No, sir.”
P: “Do you believe in a personal God?”
C: “Well, no, sir.”
P: “I suppose there is no way to prove the existence of a personal god.”
C: “If there were, would would be the point of faith?”

Useful. Profound.

Give it a listen folks. If you ever doubted the existence of a real, touchable god, or whether the actions of people in the past should be our roadmaps, you’ll find quite a lot of useful stuff here.

I accidently told one of my students today that he needed a “hard screw.”

Let me explain, before you call the police. Something on his saxophone was broken, and he needed it fixed. But, me and my inability to focus language into a channel that is both proper for the present company and decipherable, said the words “hard screw.” I meant he needed a hard screwDRIVER. And by that I meant he needed a big one, with a handle, that requires you to turn from the elbow. Not that little dinky things we usually use on our instruments. So, in my attempt to offer solid advice, I have become a lot more fun in sectionals. My bad.

Inadvertently, because of that and because of some other fun things that happened today, one of my kids actually said “I love this class.” How awesome is that? He wasn’t saying it to me, but this kid, who I thought was looking at that hour with disgust week after week admitted he loved it. And thus, I love that class.

I’m not old enough to truly old enough to enjoy the golden days of radio, or even the slightly patina-ed days of radio, when the dust collected on top is higher than the number of listeners. However, I am old enough to know a little show from St. Paul, MN, called A Praire Home Companion.

For the simple at heart. For the quiet of mind. For those that love life. For those that love music. For those that love to laugh. I stumbled across this show when I was in high school, and used to listen to it fairly religiously. Ripe with old time religion and the delicate charm of the Northern folk, this show has been able to stir my heart in the best ways. The host, Garrison Keillor, is a wonderful writer, and his placated stare could never be more real to every emotion he tells us.

Give it a listen, even if it’s just for the commercials from people such as The Ketchup Advisory Board, Xanax Salad Sprinkles, or The Council for English Majors. I highly recommend it. Especially if you like things.

 PS–…one….