Talk Thursday – Way late – pt 1 – Oh, Baby Talk Thursday To Me

When Kent posted his multi listed Talk Thursday Topic several weeks ago I was jazzed. And then life came barreling in without the horse and two guns smoking. Ack. I knew immediately what I wanted to write for part one. I’m a DJ, but I don’t talk dirty. I’m a writer and much to my husband’s consternation I can’t write smut. But boy have I been in some strange situations.

About two or so years after I became a DJ (yes that really translates into I can’t remember how long) I was working a Sunday afternoon shift, crocheting an afghan (which makes two years or so seem accurate) when I received this phone call.

“Good afternoon, KCST, this is Calista how may I help you?”

“Oh, I have the wrong number.”

“No, problem I hope you have a nice day.” And that was pretty much where I thought the conversation would end. But as I was just about to pull the phone away from my ear he said,

“You know you have a really nice voice.”

Laughing at the stupidity of the statement, “That’s good, it’s how I make a living.”

“What do you do?
“Ummm, you called a radio station, I’m a DJ.”

“Oh, okay well have a nice day.” And he hung up; I turned back to my afghan just as the phone rang again.

“Good afternoon, KCST, this is Calista how may I help you?”

“Oops, I called the wrong number again.”

Again chuckling, “You’re going to need to work on that dialing finger it can get you in trouble.”

“Oh, no I’m okay. You know you really have a nice voice.”

“Well, thank you.”

He said a few more things, punctuated with the nice voice comments again and I was finally able to disconnect the call. Except the phone rang again. This time I knew who was on the other line.

“You know you really need to fix that dialing finger and write the right number down in large black numbers before you dial.”

“I really like your voice, it’s so nice.”

I was beginning to get a bit worried, it was Sunday afternoon, I was a lone in the station in about the loneliest part of town – the business park next to the airport. (I know three phone calls, I’m a wee bit slow.)

In a very dreamy, hmmmmm hmmmm hmmmm voice he said, “You have a really great voice, the kind of voice a guy could…” At about that time in my pea size brain I realized could really was, and crap oh crap am I dense!

At that point I arose out of stuporville and said, “Crap, dude, we have seven second delay you’re going live.”

And he hung up.

And of course never called back again. Radio, ain’t it wonderful? Next remind me to tell you about the stalker who fell in love with my voice. Ooh, he was a duzie.

Sith,
Cele

Please Stand Against The Performance Tax

When I turned eight my parents gave me an AM / FM Radio. There hadn’t been much music in our house before, except for Lawrence Welk on Saturday nights. Well that isn’t totally true, I can remember being about five or so and having a worn out 45 stack turntable and two singles: The Lion Sleeps Tonight by the Tokens, and Andy’s Williams’ Moon River. The needle was missing so you had to put your ear close to the turntable and listen. It was worth the effort.

Several of my friends had their own record players, their parents had “Hi-Fi’s”, and I had the car radio or my dad singing, King of the Road. I love music and the gift of the radio was a turning point in my life. I listened to music every moment I could. A devotee to KHJ I grew up listening to Charlie Tuna, Robert W. Morgan, and the Real Don Steele. I knew the words to every song, a fact driven home to me in 1970 when the Beatles broke up. Every pop station on the dial played 24 hour Beatles marathons or worse “Non-stop Beatles Weekends.” I hated the Beatles. Really, fifty-eight charting songs in the US and I probably liked three of them.

Suddenly it was all Beatles all the time. ARGH! What’s a Folkie / daytripper to do? It’s not like I could turn it off, I’m a radio addict. And then the worst of it hit me, I friggin’ knew every word to every song. If someone tells you that learning by listening in your sleep doesn’t work, send them my way. That three songs Strawberry Fields, Penny Lane, and Golden Slumbers realistically swelled to ten songs with the inclusion of In My Life, Here There and Everywhere, Norwegian Wood, Yesterday, Something, Rocky Raccoon, and Lady Madonna. I think it could get worse, I mean I am a child of the sixties, and if my politics and yard are any clue, I’m a Flower Child of the sixities.

Suddenly the Beatles were a begrudged inclusion into my repertoire of appreciated music. But the whole point is if it’d not been for radio I’d have not fallen in love with Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young; Cat Stevens; the Moody Blues; Climax Blues Band; the Doors, Marvin Gaye; the Supremes, Sonny and Cher; the Temptations; the Miracles; Bob Dylan; Peter, Paul, and Mary; the Rolling Stones; the Beach Boys; The Animals and all the other groups whose albums and 45s are stored in my guest bedroom closet. I was allowed to use half of my allowance and babysitting money on the buys of my choice. My choice was the music I heard on the radio. I bought concert tickets to the groups that I loved from radio.

When I was young I tried to figure out how they got all the bands in the radio, then I grew up. Now I work in the radio industry and have a better insight into what it takes to air your favorites and the new up and coming acts over the free airwaves. When Isay “free” I mean you listen to commercials that pay for us to be on the air with a product your want to hear on your radio. True a lot of people today buy Satellite Radio, but rumors abound that even satellite is going to begin selling commercial load. Time will tell.

Now, under pressure from the recording industry, bills are in both the House - H.R. 848 and in the Senate - S 379. Both bills have passed through committee and are potentially headed for the floor.

The Free Radio Alliance cites a series of facts on their website - that everyday 173 million Americans reply on free radio daily for music, news, and information updates. They state a bevy of figures that radio provides to the economy, to public service, to everyday life. We buy the music we play (well for the most part, country music gives us the music free.) As a small radio station on the Oregon Coast (actually two stations – four airwaves) we pay large monthly fees to ASCAP, BMI and / or SESAC to air the music you hear over the airwaves. Twice a year we report what we play so they can pay out royalties from our fees to the composers and lyricists who make that music possible. Do you know why all stations don’t stream on the internet? The cost is too prohibitive. Soon small broadcasters will be forced to pay double or more the royalty rates paid today, those increases will create a chain reaction that will see the end of small and hometown broadcasters.

If any part of my story and / or arguments touch a place inside of you. If you listened to the events and coverage 9/11 all day long at work on the radio, if you tune into the local high school football, basketball, and baseball games, your favorite college games, heard the OJ Simpson verdict, if you tuned into X-minus One, Burns and Allen, or the Cinnomon Bear, if you can look in your spare bedroom and see a hundred CDs, LPs, 45s, cassettes, or even 8-tracks bought because you heard a song on the radio please lend your support to No Performance Tax dot Org by signing your name.

Thank you,
Calista

Adaptation: The Ever Changing Me

When I was younger, you know the starry eyed teen and young mother, I was up for a change. A change of scenery, a change of jobs, a change of seasons, change my kid, my men, whatever – I was ready. From California’s sunny clime, to the Oregon Rain Festival, to Fruehlingsfest in Germany I adapted while morphing into the person I am today.

But in the five decades of my life I have learned that I am no longer as adaptive to physical location changes (outside of a week of summer vacation) as I use to be. Note: Summer warmth means I’m much more adaptive; snow vacations are probably not my cup of tea. Snow: pretty to look at, but cold feet, fingers, and nipples are not my bag.

The changes in my mental make up are much more profound. Before – in my hip, so sure, younger days – I was firm on my platform (unless they were shoes) and would argue till you were blue in the face. Today I am eager to argue my stance, “the argue for the pure love of arguing, but usually nobody is wrong type arguing.” It also comes with a flip side, the adaptive part of me will change my stance when someone gives me a compelling believable argument. Oh, wait, that is called listening skills, right? In some respects isn’t that what survival and progress are all about? Communicating? Listening? Adaptation? I like this part of change.

I’ve noted over the past few years, as my job has grown from lowly DJ to whatever it is I do now, that I have tried hard to take the criticisms put to me, incorporate the good, and throw out the rest. Sometimes it comes with a bit of resistance, other times it blindsides me, and sometimes it just confounds the people who know me. I am trying to be a good manager. My problem, I’m not a good oral communicator – I know, too funny for a person who makes their living talking right?

There is a big difference between talking and communicating. Seven years ago I knew absolutely nothing about computers. Moving the radio station into the new millennium and working with state of the art equipment made me learn. I am willing to learn. So what does that have to do with talking?

Everything and nothing. You want to know about rock and pop music? If I don’t know the answer I will search until I find it. Pop trivia is like a narcotic to me, I’ve got to know, I’ve got to have more. You ask me, I will seek, and get back to you with the answer. Damn I wish Jeff Probst still did Rock & Roll Jeopardy! That was my game.

In today’s music world (like everywhere else) computers run the station. Explaining to you our current computer problem status and prognosis is almost impossible for me.

This week was almost too much. I am a bad manager. Why?
1) I have no clue how to delegate and be happy with the outcome, so I carry the burden and do it myself. (kind of like cleaning your kids’ room once in a while.)
2) Because I can’t communicate, everyone feels I treat them like mushrooms and leave them in the dark. It’s not my intent but that is the out come. If I have nothing new to disseminate, I will say nothing. Therefore, I don’t know how to communicate that in an acceptable way.

So with one computer down, one pantomiming congestive heart failure, and a third forever leaning heavy on the crash cart I was to the end of my rope. My head was swimming with the details and events of each computer and trying hard (yet failing) to not confuse it all. I failed to communicate with my crew. This weighed heavy on me all afternoon and evening long, I’ve no idea how to fix this in me. It doesn’t bother me to have someone tell me I am failing to communicate, because if you don’t tell me, I don’t’ realize it.

Wow, am I digressing or what. This was suppose to be about changing and adapting.

I won’t harbor bad feelings about a person who points out my problems to me, or something I’ve over looked, it if is done is a reasonable manner. Shit, I don’t even hold grudges against the two guys who raped me, or my first two husbands. Note: they are not two and the same. I don’t hold grudges. I can’t, grudges make no sense to me. I’m sorry is an apology, when heartfelt it is accepted, end of story. The actions might change where we were in our relationship, because that is how people work, but I won’t hate you and hold it against you, for say, hmmm, ever and three days.

So, to those whom I don’t communicate fully, my sincere apologies. The main production computer is back on line, but don’t use the second CD rom, it bit the big one. My production computer is still hanging on to the crash cart but works. And the AM on air, well it’s waiting for a specialist. Please have patience and watch this spot.

For the rest of you thank you for letting me get this off my chest. Wow, I needed it. To my first ex who tried to kill me. Twice. I forgive you, now please would you give Psam the $8250 in back child support, she could really use it. To ex number two, I forgive you for ripping my heart out, destroying our lives, and leaving a wake of devastation. I do wish you happiness – life is far too long to not be happy. To Bob who raped me in my freshman year, I really do forgive you and accept that I had a responsibility to the act. To Mark H who raped me in high school. I forgive you, you asshole.

Hey I said I forgive, I didn’t say I forget.

Wow, I feel a great weight missing, but don’t you wish a heartfelt “getting something off your chest thingie” would equated to losing inches off your thighs or something? Gosh, think of the better condition the world’s thighs would be in. I could forgo obesity.

Sith

Growth verses Teenage Mentality

I feel we all need to give back to not only Mother Earth as good stewards, but to our communities. Ducky is in total disagreement, which makes me wonder sometimes how we ever get along. But we do, maybe opposites do more than attract.

I am so off course.

Every other Monday evening I teach, err.. maybe that is the wrong word, advise, no that would mean they listen to instruction, okay I baby sit a bunch of teenage guys during an hour long radio program. The concept is sound. They come in 30 to 40 minutes prior to 7pm and put together their show, go on the air, and produce a 55-minute radio program. It is their show and adults beware. No topic is apparently taboo, despite station policy.

They delight in changing up their music, having no concept in genre, continuity, or well for that matter anything. So last night was a bumpy musical trip, to say the least, as we went from Hansen to Queen, to some head banging Christian group whose name has been seared from my gray matter, to Marvin Gaye and Matchbox 20 (which was totally hacked) while discussing the merits of text messaging as a form of upper intelligence communication. I would love to believe this means they are expanding their musical horizons, and knowledge, but I know better.

Much to my dismay during the whole pre Queen discussion, the ring leader choose to do what he assumes is Freddie Mercury’s persona. Why he felt it was accurate or right I’ve no idea. I was appalled. Male teenage mutants are in total disassociation with the rest of a world that does not revolve around football and high school. They’ve no idea that their preconceived notions could offend or hurt someone and are truly shocked when such a possibility is pointed out to them. Maybe I am too sensitive, but I don’t think so.

When he wasn’t doing a stereotypical Freddy Mercury impersonation, he was dissing on one of the groups mom’s for not letting her son on the internet or to My Space. He sees no recourse for his comments; my discussion surely did not phase him or make a difference in his future thought patterns. And while I believe he will grow up to be a nice, probably well mannered slop, I have to wonder how that transformation can possibly take place when I see the idiot he is at the moment.

As I grow older I look back with total shame at some things I’ve done in the past to one or two people. I’m a nice person, but there was a time when I was not. I’ve always been a crusader for the underdog. And yet I could find a person to verbally abuse. I had my “little lambs” under my wing, as my mother would say, but there would be someone I would pick on. You know someone who just didn’t quite fit in, just like me. Why, in the hell did I think that I could abuse another sweet person? Who the fuck am I? I use to get my ass kicked all over the play ground when I was a kid, people would taunt me, make fun of my name – Furby is a difficult last name to grow up with. And in my middle teens instead of sucking it in and making someone else’s life a better world because I could be a nice, loving, caring person, I was a total fucking bitch.

I’ve learned, I’ve never let go the harm I did to others. I know I have grown because of it, and I would like to get the opportunity to tell one specific person how incredibly sorry I am for my past behavior. I believe in reincarnation. We are all here for a reason, and I’m here – AGAIN - because I’ve have life lessons to fix. Okay, just one, anger, according to my numbers, but personally I think two. I needed to become a kinder, gentler being. And through that realization and discovery I know there is hope for the mutant teens out there who live in their own little galaxies. I just hope they find it before they damage the next Kip Kinkle.

Sith