sure. wait. what?

I POURED hours into recording an audio log today. I wrote an outline and turned it into a script. I recorded and re-recorded myself talking into the void, editing and splicing together the clips as I went. Six hours later, I realized that all of that effort had given me barely two minutes of finished audio. Two. Freaking. Minutes. Two minutes! That’s a measly page from the 10-page script that I wrote!

And the worst part? I didn’t even like it. I wanted a do-over. I hated my voice. I hated every detail. Ugh. What a waste.

So much for wanting to use the mic that I bought last year.

I bought a mic because, early in 2024, I had an idea for a podcast (yea, sure, cringe away). The idea was niche, and producing each episode would require some research. I had at least three episodes in mind. I started the research, but I didn’t get to writing the script.

See, before even completing an episode, I consulted a few friends about my idea. Specifically, I asked friends who were experts on the topic that I wanted to explore. One of them thought my idea was fun; one was meh-to-neutral about it; and one was confused as to why I even wanted to start a podcast.

“That’s so White Man of you,” they said.

The consensus I gathered was clear: starting a podcast was simply not on my friends’ Top Ten Things To Do When You’re Having a Mid-Life Crisis as a Thirty-generian.

And here I thought I was basic. Apparently I was high-key odd and low-key self-important (like many men from a specific background lol, if we were to take my friend’s word).

So that killed my Podcast That Never Was.

I should have talked to my friends first before buying a mic, but — pfft. It’s not like this is my first rodeo at Making Impulsive Decisions.

Then the other day, while waiting for midnight to strike, I realized that I didn’t have to start a podcast to make use of the $50 paperweight that is my mic. I can just record myself yapping and post the audio clip on this blog (no research required).

So that’s what I did — or at least that’s what I set out to do.

The Virgo in me just couldn’t vibe with spontaneity though. Talking into a mic by myself without a plan felt like steering a ship on my own without a compass (or any naval training for that matter). So I started an outline, which turned into a script, and you know the rest. I was too nitpicky and too inefficient, poring over the tiniest details as if I was about to be graded for my work.

In the spirit of practicing Positive Self-Talk (shout-out to my therapist), I should also clarify that media production is not my strong suit, and failing at it is fine. Trying and failing at anything is completely fine, yes?

Now that I’ve written about all this, I feel a lot better. Me and my first world problems — jeez. Alas, the Unbearable Lightness of Being Burgis.