On the Glorious Failure of Blogtober

One lit match surrounded by a ring of unlit matches.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Three. That’s my total post count from Blogtober, a month with 31 days.

I’m okay with it, though. I’ve spent too much energy over the years berating myself on not executing something perfectly, rather than focusing on the rewards and growth that come with simply trying. This was a better to start imperfectly than never at all attempt at rekindling something resembling an inner fire.

It worked, too. Though my Blogtober post count was weak, just trying at all netted these results:Invoiced a record high monthly amount for my writing/editing services

  • Finally set up my long-neglected web server, on which I now host five(!) domains
  • Set up this ‘ere WordPress site on my server, which awoke some dormant technical skills
  • Started turning a certain old website of mine into an online museum of sorts (coming soon)
  • Began building out my professional website
  • Started working out again after a two-month hiatus

I can’t overemphasize my delight at attempting web projects again. I knew I missed them; I just didn’t know how much. It’s comforting to have a home-sweet-home on the internet again, no matter how humble. Just knowing this site is here, and that I can tinker with it or deposit thoughts in it whenever I want is itself a source of inspiration. It makes my brain churn, but in a positive way.

Things I’ve Learned

Fire spreads. “Pay yourself first” is financial advice, but works as a mind hack for me. I write best when I feel a sense of delight, curiosity, or mischief. But dread often takes over when I have a lot of looming article deadlines, putting me far away from my ideal state of mind. Shifting focus from work to personal projects puts me in a creative mindstate—one that persists when I return my focus to work. When I pay myself first creatively, the resulting fire spreads to other areas of life.

I feel weird getting too personal in my old age. I might have felt more comfortable with the confessional aspects of blogging in my teens and 20s, but now it just makes me feel a bit… I dunno. Vain, I guess? Ridiculous, trivial. I mean, does the internet really need another voice of no import shouting into the void?

But maybe I shouldn’t care, because no one’s here. That said, no one’s really here, so who cares if I shout into the void? This is an empty playground, and it’s all mine, so I can be as weird as I want. This is a place for growing my skills and organizing my thoughts, not a stage to perform on.

Okay, abrupt ending time. Byeeeee.

Things I Feed My Brain: Podcast Edition

Brain illustration filled with symbols of nature and outer space.
Image by John Hain from Pixabay

Let’s dispense with the more bloggy blog posts for a moment, as they’re turning out a touch more maudlin than I’d like. Rather than focus on brain output, I’m going to focus on brain input instead.

I only started listening to podcasts earlier this year, spurred by the depressing realization that there wasn’t much going on in my head that wasn’t work related. If you think that sounds boring, you’re absolutely right. What happened to all the things that used to fill me with wonder? You know, the things that actually make life a worthwhile endeavor? Or, at least, that make me a semi-competent conversationalist at a party? (I wouldn’t have talked to me at the time.)

Truth is, I let them fade away while pursuing survival. But there’s always space to be found in your life if you really want it. So I went on a podcast-subscribing bender, intent on feeding my brain something more than the processed bullshit it was already filled with.

Linguistic deep dives? Check. Cultural analysis? Check. Critiques of neoliberal politics? Checkity-check-check.

Here’s a brief list of the podcasts I’ve found most interesting over the past several months, just in case your brain diet needs an overhaul, too.

Sean Carroll’s Mindscape

Logo for Sean Carroll's Mindscape podcast.

Sean Carroll is a theoretical physicist at Caltech, but don’t let that scare you away. While Carroll does sometimes dive into intense sciencey stuff (he’s a proponent of the mind-bending “many worlds” theory), his show explores a wide variety of topics with guests that are academics and experts in their field. Some of his guests are even Seth MacFarlane (okay, that was one time).

From “Humanity, Biology, and What Makes Us Good” to “Promise and Challenge of Democracy” to “Gods and Robots in Ancient Mythology,” there’s an intellectually robust something for everyone here.

Favorite episode (so far): #62 – Tight and Loose Societies and People. If you’re struggling to understand the rise of far-right movements around the world, this episode dives into the psychology of what makes some cultures authoritarian and others more open. To that end, episode #66, Partisan Polarization and the Urban/Rural Divide, also dives into political psychology and the “strict father” morality that undergirds political conservatism.


Logo for the Framelab podcast.

Speaking of the “strict father” model, UC Berkeley cognitive linguist George Lakoff is its foremost expert. Lakoff is famous for analyzing how the use “framing” in political discourse manipulates the public’s perception of an issue. As he notes in his book, Don’t Think of an Elephant, Republicans are masters at framing issues and controlling the conversation, and it’s this mastery that’s lead to their ascendance over the last few decades.

In Framelab, Lakoff and his co-host Gil Durán, a former journalist and Democratic press advisor, explore how framing is used to control narratives in today’s political climate. My only gripe is that show isn’t updated nearly enough (nearly nine months lapsed between the two latest episodes). But when a new episode is released, you best believe I greedily gobble it up.

Favorite episode (so far): #16, probably because it’s the first I ever listened to. That, and it discusses how congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is one of the few Democrats who are actually skilled at using framing as a rhetorical device. She’s not only adept at creating her own frames, but she avoids “activating” Republican frames. Personally, I think this demonstrates how bright she really is, despite all the rightwing propganda to the contrary (itself a frame job).

Lexicon Valley

Logo for the Lexicon Valley podcast.

Speaking of linguist-helmed shows, John McWhorter of Columbia University hosts the excellent Lexicon Valley podcast, which focuses on the intersection of society and language. From taboo words to racially-charged language to the politics of what makes something a dialect instead of a language, McWhorter covers a ton of intriguing sociolinguistic territory.

Favorite episode (so far):Can Climate Influence Language?” There isn’t an episode I dislike, but I particularly like this one for its “huh?” factor. It demonstrates how McWhorter travels beyond typical language curiosities and asks questions one wouldn’t even think to ask in the first place. That’s the good mind fuckery I’m here for.

Deconstructed and Intercepted

Combined logos for the Deconstructed and Intercepted podcasts.

I couldn’t choose between The Intercept‘s two excellent podcasts—and, quite frankly, I don’t see why I should have to. If you don’t know it, The Intercept is an independent source of “fearless, adversarial” journalism, which is an understatement. The organization’s co-founder, Glenn Greenwald, is most known for his reporting on the Edward Snowden leaks and NSA surveillance.

Deconstructed, hosted by Mehdi Hasan, and Intercepted, hosted by Jeremy Scahill, offer potent critiques of neoliberal politics, media propaganda, and U.S. foreign policy. Both shows feature an impressive guest roster, including Noam Chomsky, Arundhati Roy, Naomi Klein, AOC—and a host of politicians who are confronted with questions that are actually challenging (for once).

Favorite episode (so far): Rather than give you something specific, look into Intercepted’s episodes about Venezuela earlier this year as an example of the penetrating journalism featured on both shows. Where mainstream reporting’s memory is (purposely) short and sound bite-driven, The Intercept‘s reporting has a long memory—one that recalls the heinous track record of U.S. foreign policy in Latin America, its long-term systemic consequences that are still in play today, and the human cost.

Bonus Episode

Before you go, I’m going to recommend a single episode from, yes, another language-focused show. “The World in Words” is a pretty solid podcast, but is similar enough to Lexicon Valley that it didn’t need its own entry.

The World in Words podcast logo.

Instead, I’ll point you to this episode, The sci-fi of another language, because it made me think about what happens to stories when you try to move them from their cultural context to another culture. In this case, that’s Chinese science fiction translated for American audiences. What’s lost? What happens to the secret symbolism that Chinese writers have to use in order to fly under their government’s radar?

It’s interesting stuff, and it makes you wonder. And rediscovering wonder, my friends, is exactly why I dove into this podcast adventure in the first place.

Went for a Walk: The blog post

Went for a walk today. I’m wary of direct sunlight, but I figure it’ll keep me from mouldering.

I worry about it sometimes—mouldering, I mean. I started working from home three-plus years ago, so it’s a valid concern. The quiet solitude fits my temperament a little too well, and I can easily pass hours and days forgetting the outside world exists and even forgetting that I am corporeal and need certain things. Like vitamin D. Or exercise.

A little human contact doesn’t hurt either, despite lifelong suspicions to the contrary. There are plenty of humans to encounter around here, too, mostly tourists. I’ve even learned to set my watch by who’s here and when.

In the summer, it’s families. Then the start of the school year thins the herd, and it’s easier to spot all the boomers in RVs, the locals, the foreign travelers. The latter I enjoy most because I can walk to the pier and play “Identify the Language.” Today it was German, Japanese, and some guttural Slavic thing. (There’s always Spanish too, por supuesto, but that’s hardly foreign.)

View of the compass painted on the Pismo Beach pier at sunset.

I can also set my watch to the sun, and that’s maybe my favorite part of being here—learning the patterns of the natural world. Around winter solstice, the sun sets at the very end of the pier, and I like to walk straight towards it as the day dies. In summer, it sinks behind Avila Ridge, and I imagine it high-fiving the nuclear reactor in Diablo Canyon as it sets. Fusion solidarity, bro.

Today, I don’t really care where the sun is. It’s boring sky season. It’s hot and dry, and there are never any clouds in the sky this time of year so every sunset looks the same. So does every day.

So I like to go out with the tides, as that’s the only thing that’s ever changing. During the new and full moons, gravity sucks the tide way out and the sea caves that are normally filled with water on the north end of the beach are accessible by foot. I ate an edible one time, and wandered into one. Someone had carved “Kelly” years prior below the now-evacuated waterline, and it nearly broke my brain.

The name "Kelly" carved into the wall of a sea cave at sunset.

There were no sea caves today, though. Just a brisk walk down to sea level from my front door to the end of the pier and back. Enough to get the blood moving. Enough to jar my mind from its ever deepening grooves. Enough to make me feel like it’s okay to return to my virtual cave and to my word processor. Hello.


Self-portrait of the author in a car's sideview mirror, zooming past fields and oak trees.

I turned 38.5 five days ago. Five days is the length of a Gmail nudge. That doesn’t matter, and neither does anything else anymore.

That’s my fault, of course. And that’s why I’m here. At “Blogtober,” a word I can barely type without twitching involuntarily.

I’m forcing myself to write here every day because I’ve… I don’t know, really. Lost my joie de vivre? Cracked my inner compass? Become trapped in amber?

I’m typing this as I look out my front window at the Pacific, so life is better than I probably deserve. But somewhere along the way, I wandered off the path, lured by things that are easy, not brave.

Sometimes you go so far off the path, and for so long, that you forget what the path even looks like.

That’s where Blogtober *twitch* comes in. The only remedy I’ve ever known for a glitchy inner GPS is words. For me, writing is a form of active meditation—a way to build up an inner witness persona and give structure to scattered, anxiety-driven thoughts.

In essence, I’m writing my way back to myself.

I can’t promise that whatever is posted here won’t be terrible or trite. It probably will be because I’ve let my creative muscles atrophy. But if you’re lost, too, you can travel along with me and maybe we’ll find the path together.

(I’ll try not to bore you too much, I swear.)