When I was fifteen, I developed an interest in Zen Buddhism. The practice of zazen in particular drew me in. Fifteen is a tangled web of rage and depression (at least it was for me) so the idea that a daily practice of sitting (the direct translation of zazen) appealed to me. The rules, at least according to the Buddhist philosophers, were relatively straight forward. You sit. You acknowledge thoughts when they arise but you don’t judge them.

A few years ago, the artist T-pain released an NPR Tiny Desk Concert without any processing from Auto Tune on his voice. Antares Autotune, as the name suggests, is the infamous software used to fix off pitch vocals after recording. It was designed to be a touch up tool. If the software did its job, the listener wouldn’t know that any extra tool was being used – and the artist would sound perfectly on pitch.

One of my in-laws once said that therapy isn’t akin to cleaning out your attic; rather, it’s like turning on a light. It always intrigued me, and I believe in proactive and preventative care, so I promised myself I’d try it if I could. Over the last few months, I’ve walked away from each of my therapy sessions with a new insight. A new piece of info about how my brain works, about how I communicate.

+++ title = “12” date = 2018 +++ Last year, I started advertising my services as a professional magician around the holidays. The idea was that I’d perform at holiday parties to small groups of adults while they talked, ate, and drank. So I booked my first gig and found out there was a miscommunication (or perhaps a non-communication) and instead of walking around doing tricks for adults, I was going to be at a table performing tricks for children.

A friend of mine came over recently and was playing some of my guitars (I have 8 of them). He picked up a vintage acoustic, one from the 70s that I had picked up used on eBay a few years ago, and examined it closely. “Ew! The neck of this guitar is covered in dead skin cells. Want me to try to clean this off for you?” I had noticed that the neck was a bit gross looking, but hadn’t realized that what I was looking at was literally the skin cells of the player(s) who used this guitar before me.