Escapism has always been my blanket for as long as I remember. As a child I would draw beings and entities, UFOs and Aliens, hoping that one day these entities would come into contact with me. I was already a full blown UFO nut at the ripe age of 8, being raised on a healthy diet of X-Files and of course, being born with a dash of the Piscean's intrigue for the arcane. But this escapism followed me all throughout high school and evenutally my adult years.
I've always had a fear of speaking in public and in social situations. My palms get sweaty in interviews of all forms. The second I hit record on a podcast episode, my fight or flight kicks in. I'm usually amazed at the fact that the guest is sitting right in front of me, but then the internal battle ensues. It's a tennis game of words and ideas rallying back and forth, and after the 30 minute mark, an equilibrium develops. Guards and walls start to crumble, and facades dissolve and cracks of light start to beam through the flakes. You meet the real person about an hour in. I guess podcasting has been a way for me to constantly place my ego into the furnace, where it feels hot and uncomfortable. That's where growth happens. Having a voice that sounds like John Saffran with a cold becomes the least of my worries.
A pivotal moment was playing a video game released in 2010 entitled Alan Wake, by Remedy Entertainment. There, an author makes his way through the fictional Bright Falls, Washington and finds himself struggling with the dark entities he has conjured through his writings. But amongst all the chaos, there was a radio tower sitting all alone atop a mountain. There, radio host Pat Maine holes himself up away from the chaos of the evil engulfing the town, and remains steadfast in continuing his regular broadcast. Despite the town perpetually shrouded in a dark fog, Pat continues to take calls from the locals - calming them, reassuring them, and also extracting their stories as they happen. Pat's resilience and hermit-like nature remains strongly in my mind when I podcast. And it's strange since this character does not even exist.
I guess podcasting has enabled me to remain strangely grounded, with the converstation acting as an anchor, a platform to traverse the muddy, salty waters of my subconscious.
While the idea of hosting anything may be synonimous with vanity or ego, it is something I battle with internally in an obsessive fashion. I am behind the microphone, facilitiating the conversation, yet I feel like inevitably, I don't matter. The intention behind the podcast has always been to create content and give back to the community I love so much.
Promoting and marketing couldn't be further off my radar. This is about connecting through conversation.