Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from 2018

A Year in Music, 2018

This year, I made an effort to be more open about listening to a bigger variety of music. I’m always up for listening to new music, but for quite a while, it was more passive than active. As in, I would listen to what friends would recommend more than actively tracking down stuff on my own. In 2018, I listened to a lot more modern music on the radio than I have in many years, as well as frequently checking Spotify’s Discover Weekly playlist. So, I believe this list is a bit more diverse than previous years. But before I get to that, I have something special to share. In hopes this doesn’t sound like a lame piece of self-promotion, my band Caved Mountains released our debut collection of songs, A Slow Decline , in January. I’ve played in bands since 1996, but it was not until this year that something I played on was released worldwide. I’m immensely proud of the work we put into this, and it was nice to have local bloggers write about us and have radio stations like KXT and KTCU p

Unknown Road

Over the final weeks of summer, I found myself watching a lot of episodes of Bar Rescue . As in, as many as I could watch on TV and online for days. I had been aware of the show for years, but I never realized how host Jon Taffer is more of a life coach than a consultant until he was a guest on a friend’s podcast. Though I don’t have any aspirations of owning a bar someday, I struggle with anxiety and pride issues. That’s why I found Taffer’s tough love really engaging to hear. What he had to say to delusional owners rang true. It was easier to understand my hang-ups reflected in people that had even worse ones. I even bought his book, Don’t Bullshit Yourself! Crush the Excuses That Are Holding You Back , and read it in record time for my usually slow reading rate. One episode that really stuck with me involved a California bar owner who insisted his dive bar only needed upgrades to its interior, but not any improvements that could very likely bring in more paying customers. He w

Yesterday Once More

If it weren't for Chuck Brinkman, I highly doubt I would have ended up in the traffic reporting business. Not long after I graduated college and had worked in radio promotions for a few Infinity Radio stations, I was offered the chance to produce the afternoon show on KLUV, then an oldies station. I had known the previous producer and she did not like the job whatsoever. Eager to see what the job was really like, I took it on.  Though I made mistakes on my first day, Chuck gave me another chance and let me come back the following day. As tough as this job was, I ended up working for Chuck for two years.  During that time, which seems like a very short period in retrospect, I remember laughing quite often. There were things to do at all times, from answering the listener line to relaying messages to account executives. Yet there was time to hear stories about introducing and interviewing the Beatles, being around the Carpenters, and random trivia about 7-inch singles. 

Why So Serious?

Last week, as I saw numerous think pieces about the impact of Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight ten years after its original release, I remembered a decision I made prior to seeing it in a theater. I thought the movie was great and all that, but something sticks out to me as I walked with my friends en route on a typically hot day in late July. The memory is more about what I didn't do and why I did what I did. It's not a regret. It's simply a reminder of the importance of how we treat people. The movie theater is in one of the biggest malls in Dallas. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, it was understandably filled with people shopping, eating, and whatever else they wanted to do. In the midst of all these people, I noticed a familiar-looking face. It was a radio talk show host I had reported traffic for only a couple of years prior. Since I reported from a different building, I never met the host. I knew a lot of the news writers and reporters on this statio

Real, Real, Real

Last year, I was a part of a speaking panel focused on what it’s like to be a freelance journalist. Hosted by a local college's journalism society, it was fun to talk openly and face to face with undergrads wanting some advice and insight in the field. A question was asked that struck me as odd at the time. With her young son in tow, squirming in his seat because he couldn’t sit still for too long, the student asked the panel on how to deal with a criticism of freelancing she had encountered. Someone told her she wasn’t a real journalist because she was not on the full-time payroll of the publication she wrote for. Freelancing was the best way for her, between being a full-time student, wife, and mother. I said she should not believe what this person said, as many professional journalists these days are freelancers. Writers make what they want to make out of the profession, whether or not they receive a regular paycheck with a portion taken out for a 401(k) and health insurance

Forever Got Shorter

This year marks ten years since my first book, Post , came out. It was a self-released affair put out by a print-on-demand publisher. It’s never sold many copies, but according to quarterly royalty statements, several copies are sold every year in various parts of the world. I never put the book out to make money. I wanted people outside of my inner circle to read it and find something of worth in it. If emo was a joke to many, then I wanted to show how it wasn’t.   Last year, I had an idea to release a ten-year anniversary edition of the book. I’d update all the chapters, write a new afterword, and see if a publisher wanted to put it out. After rejection letters from publishers arrived in my inbox, I set the idea aside. Seemed like the gatekeepers thought Andy Greenwald’s superficial and error-filled look at emo was enough. But that was not a reason to quit pursuing something I wanted out there. Only a few days after our wedding, Hope asked me if was interested in doing a new