Leaping and Bounding

There's nothing that will make you sound more like an old timer than going on and on with comparisons to the "old days". Whatever the "old days" were, they were generally a time when everything was less expensive, less complex and less technical. For me, the "old days" were the '60s and '70s, definitely a time of simplicity, technology-wise. I can't remember a single device, appliance or tool common to most households at that time that a child couldn't operate, save perhaps a sewing machine. Sewing machine technology hasn't changed much because engineers haven't yet found a way to make it more complex than it already is.

Fostex 4-Track Cassette Recorder

I've always been technically-minded to a degree, so as I learned about certain technologies, I wanted
to get my hand on them and learn to use whatever it might be. When video recording began to mature in the 80s, I wanted to learn video editing, yet it usually required expensive hardware that I didn't nor was likely to possess. Video mixers and multiple playback/recording decks were essential, and only the most rudimentary editing was possible unless you had access to the high-dollar hardware that only professional studios and television possessed.

When I learned what multi-track recording was in the 70s, I wanted to experiment with this as well, learning the technologies that the big boys used to make all those hit records I loved. This, too, was out of reach. I didn't even own a 4-track recorder, one of the first accessible multi-track devices. The 4-track was an advanced cassette deck that would record using all 4 of the tracks on a conventional cassette tape, allowing you to create overdubs and to bounce tracks. This was big technology on a small scale.

Multi-track recording progressed. Hardware improved. Stand-alone multi-track machines were developed that used hard-disk and the CD-burning technology common to personal computers, allowing home studio amateurs to mix-down to CD, the going media format at that time. Companies like Fostex, Boss and Tascam were making some happening units then, yet I still found myself on the outside.

My first video capture card, now an obsolete dinosaur.

The strides that personal computing took in the new millenium made many of these things accessible. Those were sweet, heady days for me. I saw all of these technological dreams materialize right before my own eyes.

In the early 2Ks, I built my first computer, a Pentium-based machine (the first machine I built, not the first I owned). Though I don't recall the specifics, the RAM was in the sub-GB range and the HDD wasn't much over that, probably in the 40-60GB range, still spinning at 5400 or less. XP was the OS of the day and was new on the scene.

I had discovered the accessibility of video capture hardware and editing software and was determined to build a machine that I could use to edit video. I bought an entry-level capture card and Sony Screenblast Movie Studio,  Ver. 1.0 (now called Vegas Movie Studio after its parent). Vegas was software that gave me the ability to do complex things, such as video layers and multiple audio tracks on my own computer. With Vegas, I learned the simple beauty of a fade when compared to the coarseness of a whole catalog of other transitions, all which now seem utterly silly and amateurish. I have been able to make quite a few passably good DVDs with Vegas, my limits usually being my own skills and creativity.

I also later bought a Firewire audio interface and an entry-level DAW, Cakewalk's Music Creator. This was my entry into multi-track home studio recording. I've progressed through two versions of Music Creator, to ProTools and am now using Sonar X2 Producer. I love recording technology a bit more than video technology, as cutting edge results for video are out of reach and progressing faster than I can keep up with. Recording, on the other hand, gives me professional-level results with the hardware and software I have, the limits again being my own skill and creativity.

There's a whole lot more to be said, too, if I should include digital photography and Photoshop, but I'll leave that for another time. 

Technology, while it hasn't led us to Utopia nor has it solved any of the truly weighty issues of our time, has liberated creative people in many different ways. These are but two ways technology has liberated me and given me access through doors previously locked.

For the Love of Good Music

There was a lot going on in the year 1976. It was the Bicentennial year for the good ole US of A. I was in the 7th Grade, on the cusp of manhood. My musical tastes were blossoming into what would be my preferred tastes throughout the rest of my life, or at least thus far.

The album package and poster

My loving parents, especially my mother, supported my new musical tastes. At this stage, they were still rather innocent. I had not yet happened upon Aerosmith, Mahogany Rush or Van Halen, so she was unworried and unconcerned. One Christmas, they bought me a record player. It was just that--nothing more or less--yet I loved and used it. I was a cheap, inexpensive unit, too, but that didn't bother me either.

I had been a Beatles fan since I happened upon a few of their 45s that my dad had brought home with many others he had found in an old, defunct radio station. I had bought a couple Beatles anthologies on LP afterwards, and I can think of no better music to cut one's teeth on. Regardless of what you think about the Beatles today, they were unarguably the best songwriters of that era, perhaps of all time, at least in the pantheon of rock and roll. Given this fondness, I also liked the post-Beatles work of Paul McCartney.

In 1976, McCartney and his band, Wings, toured the US, recording a live album in the process. It was a great work, covering the entire live set and spanning three LPs, titled "Wings over America".  I purchased it as soon as possible. The price then was princely for an LP; I'm thinking it was about $11-12. Yet as it was three records, not one, it seemed a better deal. The album itself was a work of art, as many were in those days. The centerfold was a painting of the band on stage, showing all members of the band. I later discovered it was derived from a series of photographs of the individuals taken on the tour, later rendered as one work. You notice when seeing it that something is missing:  a bass player. This oversight was certainly not an issue for the artist and bugs probably no one else but me.

The Centerfold

I listened to WoA over and over and over again. It became, and remains, one of my favorite pieces of music. The guys playing with McCartney at that time were among the best, and he was at the top of his game as a songwriter, arranger and musician, not to mention as a showman.

Another poster included with the album

If my recall is correct, at one point one of the disks was damaged by heat, rendering the set unplayable in its entirety. WoA eventually disappeared from my rotation. Over the following years, I tried to find it on CD, and was unsuccessful. The copies I did find were overpriced, fetching $50 for the 2-disc set. Fast-forward 25 years...

A couple of months ago, I learned that WoA had been re-released on CD. Best Buy was selling a special package of the set which included a bonus disc of recordings from the WoA tour recorded in San Francisco. On the way home that evening, I dropped by Best Buy and snatched one up.

Even now, these weeks hence, I love having rediscovered this album. WoA gave me a love and appreciation for live music which has endured until today. I'm not a huge fan of live recordings per se, but there are a few live recordings in my Top 100 list.

Here's to Memory Lane! May its pavement always be free of potholes!

Instagram Nation

I began using Instagram recently after having ignored it for years. One reason is that I like taking pictures, whether with a phone or a camera, so I thought it would give me a convenient reason to take more without having to lug my rig around or even have to worry about a pocket camera. Another reason is that I knew more and more people that were sharing images via Instagram, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

What I found is a free-for-all medium in which people are sharing images that range from stunning to mundane to "what were they thinking". What I learned is that creativity is not endowed to every person with a camera on their phone. The people I follow pretty much dictate the type of images I regularly see, yet just a general browsing through the "EXPLORE" page proves this observation to be generally true. I suppose that Instagram isn't necessarily a medium solely for creative application of the phone camera, therefore who am I to dictate how it should be used?

Here is a non-exhaustive list of photo genres I've seen on Instagram:

Cutest Instagram baby picture ever!  (© Kirsten Leigh)

1. Pictures of Food - I've been guilty of posting these occasionally. For some of us, our table is one of the few or only ever-changing scenes in our lives. However, on the receiving end, do we really care to see what someone is shoving in their cake hole?
2. Selfies - For me, the selfie has become the comic relief of Instagram. The classic, bathroom-mirror selfie is my favorite, where whoever is holding up their phone to capture their reflection as they pose in front of the bathroom mirror. That this is the same room where people poop and shower doesn't matter, I suppose. Where there is a mirror, there's an opportunity for capturing glamorous images of yourself. Now if you could only do it without your phone in your hand. Next time, try holding it out at an angle where you can crop the phone out, Ansel Adams. Also, is it just me hearing the Selfie shouting, "Hey, everyone: look at me! I'm insecure!"?
3. Household Projects, Crafts or Activities - This is the domain of the productive housewife. Taking photos of your newly organized sewing room, your latest culinary success or your most recent domestic coup will most likely only appeal to your also-competitive peers and to those who would love you even if you weren't looking to knock Martha Stewart off her pedestal.
4. Cute Things - This includes a myriad of subjects whose commonality is perceived cuteness. Babies and pets are the largest sub-genres. Baby photos have always been the same: cute only to those who have vested interests in the subject or those rare few who think all baby photos are cute. There are exceptions of universal cuteness, such as images of piglets in rain boots or this photo that I've borrowed.
5. Timeless Moments from Our Lives -  "Timeless", in this sense, means nothing to the general public, except perhaps that it means time stands still as we attempt to fathom why anyone would publish such a photo. However, since Instagram is a subscription/follower service, I suppose we don't have to look at images from people who consistently pain us with their arbitrary submissions.There's always the option to un-follow, or to simply ignore the bad for the sake of the good, should that ever come along. Caveat sectator.

As I've learned my way around Instagram and have discovered which protocols exist and don't exist, I've found myself posting photos that I've later deleted. If I look at one of my images and say to myself, "What the...?!?!", I imagine everyone else would be saying the same.  I now find myself trying more often to be more judicious about what I post and why.

What Instagram is doing is bringing the journalist in each of us out. We want to tell stories with photos and with short, pithy captions. Even if the subject at hand is my dull and boring life, I want to tell it in vivid color (or perhaps a randomly-placed black-and-white photo). The smart phone has leveled places that formerly were only accessible to people with computers and the internet, which were places formerly accessible only to journalists, editors and publishers. Technology has made self-publishing so easy that we all can do it. The questions I'm left with are: Do I have anything to say, and is anyone listening?

Changing Gears

When is it too late to make dramatic career changes? When are you too old to shift so drastically?

I don't know, but at almost 51 years, I'm still thinking about it. I'm weighing options, thinking about the future, and making myself believe that change is still possible. I don't want to die stuck in a rut, which is where I feel I am now. My primary reason for having the job I have now is to provide for my family, but is that all there is?

In most cases, the answer is: yes, that's all there is. Fulfillment, meaning and a sense of accomplishment and success are not things that are guaranteed from our work. That's a shame, too. The fact that we spend so many hours in one place, yet that it cannot mean more than money, is too bad. Yet as these things cannot be guaranteed, they are not totally out of reach.

I'm not necessarily an optimist. I've always seen myself as a realist, which I figure lies in the middle of pessimist and optimist. It means I sometimes give up when the optimist would still be plugging away, but it also means I'm sometimes hard at it when the pessimist is curled up on his couch.

So how do you accomplish great things late in life? Experiencing the best that life has to offer sometimes means leaning way out to grab something, risking a fall from the safety of your perch. Risk. That's the key. Taking risks.

Risk is something that many of us cannot afford when reaching for our dreams. For some of us, too many people depend on us. If I quit my job right now to pursue something else, then my family would suffer along with me. Bills wouldn't get paid. Food wouldn't be on the table. Dreams that cost that much are probably mostly pipe dreams. I need to live in the real world. Living in the real world, I don't feel cheated out of my dreams, but I do often find myself looking into the distance, longing for that far, green country.

Living in a New House

I started keeping a weblog in 2005. It was trending on the web, plus I like to write, so it seemed providential. It started on xanga. Then I became disenchanted with xanga and started one on Blogger. Then I went back to xanga. Now the future of xanga hangs in limbo, plus the only people who read xanga pages anymore are people who post on xanga. Plus, Blogger is the adopted child of Google, and we all know that Google is here to stay. Blogger seemed to be one of those neighborhoods that might not go to slum anytime soon. So here I am again.

I spent a few days researching and moving posts from xanga to wordpress to blogger, which is the circuitous route you have to take to get from xanga to blogger, especially moving 132 posts, which is how many I've accumulated over these years. Not many, but they're all my children.

In moving things to Blogger, I noticed a lot of garbage, too--things I posted that even I don't care about now, so much less so for posterity. I noticed an early trend toward shallow, pointless writing, which I assume all these years hence was because that's what I though keeping a weblog was back then. We all realize that weblogging, for most of us, is an exercise in vanity. Putting our unsolicited thoughts on the WWW--who are we kidding with that? In browsing through these things, I kept only the posts  which seemed to have ongoing merit, no matter how small. Things I might like to read again, things someone else might like to read, things that speak about me, my likes, my desires--these have endured.

Looks like I'm here to stay.

The Back Side of Middle Age

Unless I live to be over 100 (doubtful), I'm on the back side of middle age. As I look around, I don't like the way it looks. I could get used to it, but the neighborhood is not as nice as I thought it would be and is not likely to say the same.

One of the first things you notice as you near and cross the peak is the physical stuff. Things stop working properly. Rust sets in. There are creaks and groans and squeaks. These evidence a lack of maintenance in most cases, but also are things that happen with high mileage. The human body is also like a mattress, getting heavier with age, and the reality is as gross as the analogy. Once again, poor maintenance is the reason.

The work mechanics do on you at this age changes, too. Doors marked "Exit Only" start to accept two-way traffic, something no man looks forward to. It becomes necessary, or so they say, to probe the dark recesses that were formerly mysterious and off-limits. To neglect these explorations is to allow dark trolls and ogres to dwell there. To rout these unwelcome guests, you have to give up some things you would rather hold on to.

The immortality you believed was yours is taken away. You begin to wonder, not if you will die, but how. Will it be the Big C? Heart attack? Something more exotic? I've always hoped for a plane crash of a specific kind. While I'm driving down the highway, it is my hope that a plane crashes into my car and kills me. Quick, mostly painless, and you don't have that minute or so to contemplate pain while the aluminum tube you're in plummets toward terra firma.

For me, this is all an exercise of curiosity. I'm not afraid of dying. Honestly, I probably dread certain types of death. I'd prefer something quick, but that's because I don't want to be sick and ebb away like the tide going out.

It's all academic though, isn't it? We don't choose unless we're cowards and we force the clock to chime before the hour. Also, there's no guarantee that it happens in due time. Though it's thankfully rare enough, many do die before their time.

Yet the back side of middle age isn't all about contemplating your exit. For some, there are regrets. For others, time is spend wondering what you can do with what remains. Yet others just sit back and watch things unfold. I want to be active and proactive, but gravity often works against me. Sitting and watching is so much easier.

Yet in spite of all the unknowns, I know that I don't want to be one of those pale, fat people that spend their waning years wallowing in hedonism. They fill casinos, cruse ships, tour buses, RV parks, golf courses and foreign cities. They believe they've paid their dues, and it's all about fun now. It's about doing what they want to do. They've created their own modern day equivalent of Timothy Leary's "Turn on. Tune in. Drop out."

I don't know what I'll end up doing with my last decades, but I don't want it to be squandered on consumption alone. I still want to be productive. I want to be available for my kids in their adult years and for their kids, too; not sailing the Seven Seas or camping out at an AYCE buffet, gorging on beef-a-ghetti. All I need to do now is get in better shape, then we'll see what happens.

No Regrets

Every day, there are people that die in tragic, unexpected ways. Car wrecks. Random, murderous acts. Sudden heart failure. I live in expectation of this myself. My mother died from a stroke in her sleep. I deal with families on a regular basis that are working through such losses. I often wonder if that will be my lot. If it is, I won't have time to say some things, so I say them here.
I have no regrets.

This doesn't mean I haven't made any mistakes. I've made plenty. However, that's part of living, isn't it? We learn from our mistakes so that we will hopefully end up better from them and not make them again and again.

This also doesn't mean that I wouldn't change things--decisions I've made--if that supernatural opportunity presented itself. They would be small things though, small things that in the grand scheme don't really matter. My college degree. Jobs I would work toward. Time spent learning to play the guitar. Looking over this list seems trite, petty and nit-picky. Small potatoes.
What it does mean is that, on the whole, my life has been an experience I wouldn't want to change. I might rewrite some of the dialogue, but I wouldn't rewrite whole scenes or cut scenes that didn't work out just right.

I married the right woman. She gave me beautiful kids, each of whom have brought unique blessings to my life that are priceless, none of which I would trade for anything else. I've been blessed with many good friends, certainly many more than I deserve. I've had experiences with them that are rich as well.

My life stretches behind me like a fat scrapbook, bulging with snapshots, school photos, awkward family portraits, and mementos of graduations, weddings, and funerals. I leaf through its pages and there are poorly focused snapshots and professionally composed ones side by side. I never come to a section that I wish I could rip out and throw away. Even the darker times are part of my life. They provide contrast, making the rich, saturated colors of the good times seem all the more bright and intense.

This life has not presented me with many opportunities for fame and/or fortune. It's been simple. It's been rather austere, though I have experienced more luxuries that I ever thought possible. Complexity and richness don't fall on the same continuum though. Simplicity can be, and is often very rich, in experiences and most certainly in blessings. The simple things in life often end up being the most profound.

As life stands before me now though, I still have no regrets. God has been good to me. Very good. I thank Him for my life. I thank Him for every part of it. Therefore, if by His design, it ends now, know that I will go into eternity a satisfied man.