I just lost a great post.

I had written a blog entry about loss. (Yes, I can see the irony oozing out from under my spacebar). I had written about four hundred words contemplating whether or not you ever truly get over losing something you love...or whether you just spend the rest of your life with a tender spot in you that hurts if it is poked or slept on wrong. It told the story of an acquaintence of mine who lost his mom...it's a tragic story, and it may very well have made you cry. I told the story of an old heartbreak of mine... a trivial story in light of somebody's mom dying, but nothing is trivial when you're seventeen, you're insecure, and you're infatuated with romanticism. I was just getting into a section about how I have a hard time letting go...that memories, even happy ones, produce a kind of melancholy in me and feel a lot like loss...

...and then I closed the window.

Why would I close the window, you ask?

Because I'm an idiot. I wanted to check my calendar for something, and so I instinctively clicked the little red "close" icon in my web browser to clear a path.

So, here we are. I didn't want to rewrite the whole post because I'm trying to spite my web browser by not giving it the sastisafaction of watching me retype the whole thing. Also because the second time, it's just not going to feel as good as the first one...that first one is gone in a tragic moment now, and much like Curt Cobain or John Lennon, it is thereore perfect, and can never be replaced.

At the same time, I didn't want to write about anything else because, let's face it, I wanted to talk about loss.



So, here is a very short thought about loss that I didn't type in the original post...

I think part of your development process can halt abruptly in the presence of loss. Based on what I heard last night from my acquaintence, I wonder if he is still waiting for his mom to come home. I think there may still be a five-year-old inside of him who stands at their afternoon rendevous point, waiting for a mom who will never arrive. I think, in many ways, I am still waiting as well. I don't want to get into it...it's too personal for me and probably too boring for you, but there is a part of me that is still waiting, hoping that I'll get what I've been waiting 24 years or so for. I don't know if I'll ever get over it...I don't know if I'll ever stop waiting. I wonder if any us do...if we ever stop waiting for that girlfriend to call and apologize, for Dad to call Mom and say he's returning, for your wife to come home from the hospital, for that shaggy golden retriever to come bounding through the door, or for God to answer.

I tend to think not. I tend to think there is a little part in us that keeps calling out, keeps waiting, keeps a hope alive that in the end, it's not a loss...it's just a delay.

Peace,
Justin

It seemed easy enough...

I had the mic, I had the headphones, I had the really neatO computer. I had a blog that I really enjoyed writing on, but I found myself without the time to do it. I also had a bunch of things that would probably sound cool if spoken in a nice deep voice about two inches off of the fuzzy mic-cozy. It seemed easy enough.

I'll make a podcast!

Yee-haw, look at me everybody! I'm going to join the internet revolution! I'm going to be cutting-edge! Yes, yes....I'll be cutting-edge...and perhaps, if I do a really, really good job, I'll also be other buzzwords...like "postmodern," and "relevant," and "innovative." Yes, I'm headed for the future of communication...I'll join the likes of David Bowie and Ricky Gervais and some guy named Mike from New Jersey who likes to talk about his cat...I'll be a podcaster!

I'll just plug this mic in...test, test, test...

And I'll just record this. Chickity-check, microphone check.

OK, now I'll just take what I recorded...and add some music...and export as an mp4...

And now...ummm...


OK, folks. See, this is where I got kind of hung up. What happens next?

I don't know. But I sure as shit tell you what doesn't happen next. You don't hit the "publish my podcast" button on your keyboard and wait to get famous. No sir. You don't do that at all.

Instead, you spend three or four days going to hundreds of websites and downloading a dozen or so applications trying to turn your mp4 file into a usable podcast. You process your audio every which way possible to try and get it into podcasteriffic form...to no avail. You check out help sites, user forums, FAQ's...you write to the people at iTunes, the manufacturer of the podcasting software, and even the guys who made your microphone, on the off chance that they can help. You even get the magic key at the bottom of the labrynth, give it to the werewolf in the dark forest, get the silver medallion of Moon'sRune from him, and use the medallion to gain entrance to the witches quarters, where you hope she will give you the magic Podcasting tonic, so that you might be able to join the other relevant, cutting-edge postmodernists who have joined the podcasting revolution.

All to no avail.

I have no clue how to podcast. But I made podcast. And I would love for you to hear it.

If you're interested, it's at http://www.archive.org/details/JustinMastersonsPodcastEpisode1/

Just click on the mp4 file. It's like podcasting, but for techidiots like me who can't figure out how to podcast, so instead we just upload an audio file and make you do all the work.

I don't know that I'll make a habit out of doing audio recordings...but it was really fun. I may do it every once in a while. Tell me what you think, eh? Would you rather read, or listen? Or neither?

Let's look to the next wave of blogging...TACTILE BLOGGING. I'm not sure how it'll work, but you'll be able to TOUCH everything the blogger is talking about.

I'll get right on that. In the meantime, download the mp4 file eh? It'll make me feel like all that work wasn't for not.

Peace,
Justin

The New Look...


My hair has a cowlick.

My wardrobe is lackluster.

My body type is what scientists call "Exomesomorphic," and what Lee Jeans calls "husky."



So, you change what you can.



Hence, the new look to the blog.

(My goodness, from a distance, this looked suspiciously like a haiku. A very very stupid haiku).



Will post soon.

Peace,
Justin

I think my eyes are starting to go.

It's a weird thought...that I wouldn't be able to see as well. I've always had perfect vision...better than perfect, really. My vision was 20/25...what most people could read clearly at 20 feet, I could read at 25+. It's hardly adamantium claws or telekenesis...but I guess I always thought of it as my little mutant power. I could read road signs well before the other people in my car, I could read addresses on darkened houses as we drove by, and I could pick out the time on my alarm clock from across the room.

But now, things look kind of blurry. I have to really try to focus on something...my casual glance isn't enough...I have to make a real effort to see it clearly. For those of you with glasses/contacts...is this a sign that my eyes are going downhill, or is it possible that they're just tired or overwhelmed?

Perhaps it's a mental thing. I have trouble focusing my mind...why shouldn't it carry over? Perhaps my brain just lags a bit...instead of looking with focus, I look...and....then....I.... ummm.....wait for it.... focus. Perhaps I'm afraid to focus...afraid to see too closely. To look at the faces and expressions of my friends and my co-workers and my wife up close...to get that intimate. Hmmm....

If it turns out that my eyes are going weak...I wonder if I would be a glasses guy or a contacts guy. What do you think, those that know me? Stacy says my face doesn't work for glasses...which, however accurate that might be, is a strange thing to tell a person.

All this seems shallow, to be sure. But I love my eyes...I love what they do for me, what with the whole "seeing" thing and all, and I'd hate for something to go wrong with them.

Peace,
Justin