Try-Pod Month

So, March is try-pod month. I acknowledge that March is almost over, but I would be loathe if I didn't get my recommendations and reviews out there in the next 1.5 days. Try-pod = try a podcast. I despise talk radio-- I turn on the radio to listen to music, not commercials and people making lame jokes. Podcasts, however, are nothing like that (except perhaps for the occasional lame jokes).

I first started listening to podcasts (by choice) about four years ago. Prior to that, I had them forced on me over various roads trips to various places with some old friends, volume blaring as people recounted little stories here and there in the nasal tones of Ira Glass.

Then I was introduced to Serial, and I was hooked. I'll start with that one. Serial, season one, is Sarah Koenig telling a murder mystery serially, over twelve episodes. It's the story of then-teen Adnan Syed, who was either framed for the murder of his girlfriend, or a vengeful ex-boyfriend. Koenig hooks you in Dickensian style, along with a plunk-a-plunk piano tune, and draws you in. I listened to this CONSTANTLY-- while I was driving, while I was folding laundry, while I was blow-drying my hair. And then it was over. Season two impressed me less, and I am still waiting for a third.

S-Town just started and downloaded itself to my phone a few days ago-- same people who produce This American Life and Serial, and I am an episode and a half in and already hooked.

The Minimalists is a podcast I've recently gotten into in an attempt to de-clutter my life and get back to basics-- use things, love people, and all that. It's interesting to hear their insights and the ways they suggest going through things. What is stuff, anyway? (P.S. It's harder than it sounds-- I vacillate between hating clutter and being sentimental-- not a good in-between).

Then there's The Moth. I discovered this one accidentally, whimsically. I love its hazy, dreamy green cover, and everything about the concept. The Moth is an hour long, usually 4 stories, and themed each episode. There are story slams in various areas of the U.S., including my own little artsy Pittsburgh. It's done under the guise of the type of stories people used to tell one another just because, on sleepy porches during humid summer nights with slow breezes rolling in and moths fluttering around the glow of lamplight. My responses to these stories are as animated as the storytellers themselves-- laughter, shock, emotion, raw and exposed onstage, over a microphone, over the radio.

In a similar vein is This American Life. Ira Glass hosts this show every Sunday, and it too is themed. The stories are poignant and real-- vague enough that they are relatable but real enough that they still connect to everyone at the same time. That's the power of good journalism. It is inspirational, as a writer, to see people doing the thing you love to do yourself: to tell these stories of ordinary people doing ordinary things in a somewhat extraordinary way. People leave an impact on us, and Glass's narration opens listeners up to one more way of truly connecting with people, in a way that moves beyond news feeds and tweets.

Finally, Stuff You Should Know, whose hosts, Josh and Chuck, are like long-lost friends. They cover every topic imaginable and even some I've never thought of, and they do it in typical How Stuff Works style, making it all relevant, humorous, and informative concurrently.

There you have it. Check out some of my suggestions, and if you do, tell me about it in the comments section below. I'd love to hear from you! :)

Bingo: 24 Ways to Win

Recently, Shells and I went to play bingo at a hall near us. This was the first time I'd played bingo since I was in Catholic grade school. I had fond memories of this game and Shelley had mentioned playing it periodically in attempts to win money, so we went. This particular hall offered cash prizes all night, including a $1,000 prize for the coverall card at the end of the night.

When we pulled into the lot (behind a Coach bus laden down with bingo-bag-wielding folk), we were immediately overwhelmed by how crowded it was.

"Surely all these people aren't here just for bingo," I said, but as we walked inside, we learned that was indeed the case. Buffet tables with rigatoni, salads, and bread slices for $6 a meal (pass), the perfume reminiscent of my grandmother lingering in the air, and the knowledge that we were easily the youngest people in there added to the feel.

We purchased our cards and doppers and sat down, taking it all in. I pulled out the Trolls I had stuffed in my pocket (a suggestion by my friend Liz) and set them on the table in front of us after noticing more than a few other people with varying good luck charms. Besides, these trolls had come as a gift alongside the movie after my "Trolled" blogpost, and even found their way into my lunch bag, so I felt it was appropriate.

"Put those away! Seriously babe!" Shelley hissed. "I can't believe you brought those!"

I sat there in my usual staunch refusal to budge, and they remained there as Shelley muttered about Roseanne episodes and bingo ladies.

The experience was fun, overall. It went on for nearly four hours, with a handful of workers on a constant loop over the aisles between the tables like those ducks on a loop at a carnival game or something. The whole time they walked, they yelled, hustling players for tickets for raffles, scratch off cards, additional playing cards...

"I'm going to hear these calls in my nightmares tonight," Shells quipped.

The callers went so quickly we could barely keep up, dabbing away at numbers with hardly any time to talk to each other in between. I was cracking up. Between the two of us, we played 42 cards at any given time. We didn't win a cent, and more than once made half-serious jokes about having to practice high-speed bingo at home. Additionally, we learned that there were now apparently 24 ways to get a standard bingo-- whatever happened to standard, good old across, up and down, or diagonal??? We were probably getting bingos and not realizing it.

In spite of all of that, it was a blast. We were out together, taking a break from the work school sleep cycle that has been my life the last 7 months, and we enjoyed it. We laughed, we did something new, and the people-watching was prime.

The bright side:
The trolls weren't good luck charms, but they did hold our cards in place under the blowing air conditioning.

Creating Ourselves Anew

We, as humans, spend a lot of time trying to better ourselves. Every new year, or new month, or new week, we make resolutions to work out more, eat healthier, be more generous, more loving, more present, more involved... Sometimes, in the midst of all of that, we fall a little short-- not intentionally, of course; but trying to be perfect can be overwhelming, and things fall through the cracks. We fall away from ourselves and get caught up in an endless flurry of activity, of more, more, more.

I recently received a letter from my friend Terry. We've been friends for 14 years at this point, and we've written letters from time to time after she moved three hours away. This letter came unexpectedly, breaking a spell of silence (life happens!), and with it came a book, that she felt inclined to send me, and for which I am anxiously awaiting a chance to read. It gave me pause, knowing that someone I haven't seen or really spoken to since November read something, thought of me, and mailed me a book.

Yesterday marked the beginning of a new month. March rode in on a windstorm, but it was a welcome transition from the tumult that rocked me through February. With the dawn of March also came Ash Wednesday, the beginning of what Christians recognize as Lent.

During the Lenten season, we are called to give up something that consumes us-- social media, soda, chocolate-- to remind us how in the grander scheme of things, Christ sacrificed His life so that we may be forgiven.

Oftentimes, we choose to do good deeds rather than, say, abstaining from a select food item the course of forty days. I actually joined a challenge called 40 Days of Giving, where each morning I receive a reflection and a challenge (in three degrees of intensity) to my inbox, and I can work towards being a better me by doing something each day for others.

Incidentally, Terry loves Tolkien.

I am not trying to detract from any form of sacrifice or self-improvement, but instead saying that one of the best ways to improve is through the personality and the soul-- the more caring, compassionate, and loving we are, the happier we will be.

I've already been reflecting a great deal, and a song from my Catholic school days, about how we rise again from ashes and create ourselves anew, and I think about how awesome it is that in life, at any point in time, we are given the chance to start over. It is truly something wonderful-- that with love and support and desire, anyone can change their journey.

 "Not all who wander are lost" is a favorite quote of mine, but even so, sometimes I think it's okay to get a little lost. It just means we're busy creating our own paths.