Archiving and Digitizing My Vinyl Collections

For Saint Nicholas Day I received a vinyl record recorder that allows me to record from my old albums to my computer, and manipulate sounds via some great software.  I had wanted one of the devices for some time because I own a large collection of rare old school punk and alternative records, as well as many strange and interesting 1970s and 80s albums, including Strawberry Shortcake, Spiderman, and other read-along albums.  I wanted to find a way to eliminate some of my lesser enjoyed items and also preserve the records that are very rare. 

So, I first tried the device on some horrid old folk/dance record that I had never been able to bring myself to listen to, fearing that hearing it would bring some great evil into the world.  The artist’s image on the cover was enough to make one cringe, laugh, and cry with a glance, by merely being of her time.  I had acquired the album when I was bequeathed a large pile of records remaining at the end of a garage sale.  

Starting with the first song, I listened along as the vinyl crackled its beautiful crackle, which happened to be the best sound that would come from the record until I digitally manipulated it as unrecognizable.  The first sound that the artists made on the record sounded much like a barry white impersonation, and then a woman sang about how she had never felt like a woman before. That was enough to make me alter the sounds immediately.  

The hours following my digital experimentations left me giddy, reminding me of when I was nine and recorded and manipulated the sounds of my voice, keyboard, accordion, harmonica, and every other external noise I could find, on my broken ghetto blaster.  My old blaster was quite warped, you see, so that when I recorded with the mic I had made from an old pair of headphones, wires, and whatnots, and messed with the record and other buttons, various interesting noises and speeds could be made and transformed.  I spent many hours creating horrid noises in those days. Still, none as horrid as the never been a woman, woman.

Now, after receiving the new recording equipment and making some beautiful noises, I realize that there is one significant bit of information that I must consider, which I have recently been writing papers regarding: How can I digitally preserve all of the records that I am recording? I have studied photography and film and know about some of the issues in these areas, but I know very little about preserving digital sound files. Which are the best formats? Should I use an external hard drive and DVDs or CDs? How many times can I transfer these files to new formats and will they continue to have the same sound quality? Suggestions could be welcome.

My head is spinning with the thought of recording and preserving all my great, and not so great, vinyl data.  As an archival and digital libraries student, a future archivist, I feel it is my duty to find some way to preserve the rare materials that I have collected since my youth, including my comic and toy collections, but my house can no longer serve as a repository for these collections.  Will I find a worthy collector on ebay? Probably not. On Craigslist? Hrumph. 

And then, what about all of my VHS tapes of old recorded television shows. Shall I Youtube them all? Can I Youtube them all? Maybe donate them to a repository collection where their theft will be imminent (if circulation is allowed)? 

What of my manipulated recordings? Who will want that valued art? There is some heavy sarcasm in the previous sentence, but they really were fun to make. When I come up with a really good one, worthy of this slog, I will certainly post it. Until then, let us call them deselected.

After much thought about what to do about these items and the best way to preserve them, the only wisdom that came to me is this: I am not a collector, I am a keeper.

OH NO!!! I watched Slaughterhouse-Five!

Okay, I have studied film adaptation, and I understand that a film does not need to represent a novel with the same title. But if I ever had a reason to complain about an adaptation, I found it when I watched Slaughterhouse-Five. I must admit that I was really anticipating viewing the film, and I was curious about how such a novel could be adapted…I did, however, attempt to remain open about what I was about to view.

Are there novels that should not be adapted into film? I do not believe so. Slaughterhouse-Five may be among one of the more difficult novels to adapt, merely because of the structure of the novel…but it could have been accomplished, and well. I mean, there was an attempted adaptation, but there was not a grain of depth that was inspired from the novel. Sure there were characters with the same names and sometimes they performed similar acts, but it is a necessity for an adaptation to create the same or very similar effect as its original model.

Why did the film adaptation of Vonnegut’s work make me hate Billy Pilgrim or despise him? And why did Montana Wildhack have to be so hideously annoying? I know I would have hated to spend even five minutes with that Montana, but should I not have seen her as an amazing prospect for Billy? What about the question of what was really happening to Billy? I did not even bother to ask that during the film. I only wondered why Billy had been presented as such a low-life scum. How could I ever step into his shoes or relate to his situation when I could not even understand why he would take his wife and children to see a porn film at the drive-in theater?

Even if there had not been a novel, the film would still be awful. It does not make me feel. It does not make me think. It only makes me wonder why.

Oh no! I have read Slaughterhouse-Five!!!

Well, what can I say? I have been a little late in posting recently. I have been on vacation. I have been reading Slaughterhouse-Five for the first time. It is an amazing book. At first, I thought the book was very strange and slow, but as time went on, I enjoyed the read more and more.

Slaughterhouse-Five may be one of the best books that I have ever read. So, it took me a few months to read because I was only reading it when I was waiting in line somewhere or at some office for an appointment or another, but I feel that the delay only built my adoration for the novel. I was dying to see what would come next, and who would die, and how many times I could read “so it goes.” And so, it does. What better way to show the depths and faults and horror of war than to live in the mind of the character(s)!?

While I was reading the work, it was interesting to me that so many people had already read the book, and that they all had some strong feeling for it one way or the other. A high school student told me that it was the most boring thing she had ever picked up. Could she have been too young to get it? If I had been a high school kid when I read the book, I may have just skimmed it and thought that Vonnegut was on heavy medication when he wrote it. I MUST watch the movie now!

An older man told me that is was a very strange book and that he didn’t really understand the point. I have to believe that he must have been a teenager when he read it, or at least young enough to think that Vonnegut was at least very, very tired when he wrote it.

Well, in any case, the dark humor, terrifying images, and wonderful disarray with witch Vonnegut uses to lead us through the war is important and relevant to every war and every age of human. If we don’t get what Vonnegut is trying to say maybe we haven’t felt the terror and insanity of war, or maybe we just do not understand what we do not want to understand!?

A pal once told me that focusing on the negative brings negative things into our lives, but if we ignore them, how can we ever move past them? How can we ever grow stronger or wiser if we ignore the vagrant on the corner, the graffiti on ancient roman buildings, or the war at our doorsteps? Sometimes the ugly things in this world need to be understood. Speaking of which, aren’t we nearing Banned Books Week?

Ah, yes, Banned Books Week is arriving soon! For more information: http://www.ala.org/ala/oif/bannedbooksweek/bannedbooksweek.cfm

I am celebrating my freedom to read about war!!!

Bloomington, Indiana

Here you will find some of the photos I have taken of IU and Indiana within the last two weeks. I had included some with my last post, but I thought I would enlighten those of you who care to be visually enlightened some more. Try to enjoy yourselves.

IU – The Student Building

IU – Franklin Hall

IU tour

IU – Indiana Memorial Union

IU

IU – Beck Chapel

IU – Maxwell Hall

IU – Woodburn Hall

IU Herman B Wells Library

IU Wells Library

My backyard

Swimming to Indiana…and No Pirates!

Remember how I mentioned that being a nomad is not fun…well, I forgot to mention that it can be fun to be a nomad if you pretend like you are a pioneer.

When I was applying to graduate schools and so many friends and colleagues suggested that I look at IU, I thought “Indiana?” I had never considered moving to Indiana before. I am not sure that I had ever even considered Indiana. But all good adventures that begin with mystery, suspense, and the unknown are likely to end in a fantastic surprise. I did fail to mention, until now of course, that I chose Indiana University sight unseen. But upon researching the MLIS programs and attributes, I dove right in and swam to the Indiana shores…er, by land. If you could see the field next to my new living space, you might believe that I could swim through the land [see the second image on this post to see if you can see it].

So, I packed up everything (including the things that I do want and more of those that I do not) and I forced family members (under pain of severe scowling) to help me move across many miles. During the move, all involved became ill due to my brother to helping us load up our covered wagon. You see, when he arrived to help, he had some illness similar to the plague, I believe.

In any case, all of the illness may have been for the better because I hardly remember the hardships that we may have incurred during the move. Okay, so the hardships were mostly due to gas prices and falling down at a rest stop, which resulted in a skinned knee, bumped head, and tearful wallet…but they were harsh.

I kept reminding my crew that things could be much worse. We had excellent weather, no pirates, no broken items (not including my smoking, flaming television), and we arrived before the floods. Yes, Indiana flooded all around us the week after we arrived, but we never saw anything larger than a huge puddle where we live. And I am ever so grateful! As I unpacked, I found many of those unneeded items, repacked them in my wagon and donated them to help those less fortunate than us. I never realized how much clothing, sheets, and barbies that I had! Did I not do this just a year ago? I thought I had given all of my unnecessary prized collections away already!

Remember that if you are going to be a nomad, adventurer, or pioneer, you must decrease your amount of accumulated items before you venture out into the wilderness.

Anyway, as we traveled many miles through fields, over hills of stone and confusing highways in large cities, I could not help but become lit with the flame of excitement. Even though I had to keep relighting my flame due to my battling the plague-like illness that was blowing the excitement out, it never went out for long.

Through Illinois, the yellow flowered fields brought us all into the rolling, flowered and forested hills of Indiana: the new place that I will call home until my nomadic feet take me elsewhere. And I must say that I am quite content to settle here until I am pulled elsewhere. The friendly people, tales of Abraham Lincoln, the amazing topography, the brilliant libraries, the great IU, the plethora of bicycle accommodations, the lake that looks like a dragon, and the state of ataraxia that I am in here are worth every penny, every hardship, and every mile I expended (and recommended others to expend) to get here.

I will never underestimate what seems like the middle of nowhere again. And I will forever be proud to attend a university that rhymes Indiana with Frangipana! That was NOT sarcasm; I swear!

Public Education in the United States of Moss

“Learn all the rules, every one of them, so that you will know how to break them.” -Irvin S. Cobb

I have experienced top notch schools where many students rot away or turn into moss in their seats. Maybe it is the low lighting or damp environment at play, but might it be that “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” -Thanks, Joni Mitchell!

Moss, like the number of children in public schools, grows steadily…as does the number of students attending school without knowing why they are even there or how they got there. Children are taught not to question, not to reason, but to memorize and obey.

When I was in high school, I decided that memorizing and obeying wasn’t for me…and that I preferred to learn, think, and understand. I knew I had to do something to change, for I was beginning to look for less savory things to occupy my time. So, I decided on home schooling. That was heaven for me at the time. It was as if someone switched on the light and my spores were controlled and directed.

Of course, I still did not sigh as if I was in love when I thought of math, but I was able to turn my education toward my interests and move forward in those areas that I dreaded.

It was during, and only during, my home school education that I discovered why education is important and started delving into subjects that I had never had the opportunity or desire to discover in public school. Ever since first grade, I had been told that I was throwing away my education, wasting time, not focused, blah, blah, blah… but for whatever reason, I was never told why I was even there or how I had come to be in school. I was never told about the plight of women or Native Americans in a way that encouraged real thought or understanding. I was told a name, a year, and why a certain individual or event was important, in order to memorize it for an upcoming exam. Why?

Maybe the soil’s ph was not ideal. Or maybe it is the base level of the events that have completely altered our lives forever that is important, and not the grit or depth of the events.

In any case, once I was placed in an environment that was more conducive to a human being, I began to thrive and understand that public education is steadily declining into a smaller and smaller area where the authorities place wild growing moss-like beings so that they will not question, will not think, and will not get into too much trouble. And this is not education.

I presume that children do not respect adults because not only do adults not respect themselves, but they do not respect each other and they do not respect children. And how can a child learn when he or she is not respected…but also how can a child learn when he or she does not respect a teaching authority figure?

And what happens when children cannot, do not, or will not learn? Have some children in public schools become rebels because we have allowed them or even forced them to become that way? We march them around like soldiers but have no place for them to be that is beneficial, we make rules see how long they can go without using the bathroom but give them drink machines in the hallways, we allow them to leave school early if they have made good grades but hold them in like prisoners if they do not have a ride home, we tell them to do their work but never explain why, we tell them to get good grades but never question if they are actually learning when they do.

We have trained our children to find ways around our own absurdities. We have forced them to learn outside of the classroom (while wasting much time in it), rebel to survive, or decompose.

So, when the bacteria, fungi, and worms do their job, will the enriched soil produce more moss or something more human-like?

images from PBS: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/victorygarden/explore/othergardens/gardenwoods/index.html

and Trees for Life: http://www.treesforlife.org.uk/forest/ecological/deadwood.html

Avoidance Power

What should we do when we lose our passion for our work or life? I don’t mean to say that I have, but I have recently come into contact with a few people that have…and it made me wonder. Have you ever met someone like the Grinch, with a heart that seems too shriveled to continue pumping? I’ll just bet that you have if you have lived for more than a year. Have you ever wondered what it was that made that person so very upset that it could continue every moment in every day of his or her life?

Recently, I have come into contact with an older human, much older than myself, I mean…and now I know why so many medieval people believed that inner goodness or badness would reflect in the way that a person’s outside looks. The other day, I actually saw the person smile at something that she/he found amusing, and it made me shed a tear to know that she/he still finds some joy in life. Okay, it wasn’t a real tear, I really put some drops in my eyes, but be that as it may, I continue to dread the person’s presence more and more with each passing day.

No, I don’t see her/him every single day, but enough to frighten me. That a human can be so bitter and uncaring, especially when she/he is being paid to care, really makes me wonder why she/he continues. Does this person arrive at the box on time for the money, for a memory of joy, or because she/he doesn’t have anything better to do??? I suppose I question because the lack of passion makes the person seem a drone marching through life in a way that is very unlike my own march.

It is possible that I have too much passion. I may care too much. And when I work in similar arenas, I try to help people succeed as much as possible…not hinder their progress pointlessly. Shouldn’t I do that if I am being paid to do so? And why would I work in a position that I am not passionate about? Why would any person do such a thing? I know that it can be difficult to be passionate about some jobs, but then why not work toward acquiring a different job that you could be passionate working? I heard some people give speeches defending the most degrading jobs that I would never attempt, and I have felt all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that there are passionate people out there willing to do what I never would.

Of course, all of this talk makes me really wonder what it was that the Grinch-like person that I currently have the displeasure of knowing would like to be doing on a daily basis. I imagine that she/he is a year away from retirement and that she/he will take a flight to some island where she/he will find the love of her/his life, the house of her/his dreams, a good long book, and never leave the island or work again.

But then my bubble bursts, and I realize that I must count on this individual in too many ways for my own comfort. I keep telling myself that there are only two more months…but it doesn’t help. I fear for the next person that will step in my shoes. And there have been far too many before me.

Surrounding yourself too often with someone who has a continuously frowning face and Grinch-like heart can really begin to kill your own passion. I suggest carrying a dropper (or turkey baster) full of water, squirting it at the individual’s heart, and hoping that the heart reacts like a sponge. If that doesn’t work, then you might try wearing a cross and garlic for maximum avoidance power.

8 Whole Units of Currency!!!

I started working. Did I mention that I am working three days a week without pay? Well, I am. I seem to have worked a great deal of time during the last few years without pay. Did I mention that I don’t mind? I suppose I did cover this a little in the last post, but I have a slightly different point.

Well, I shall get to it now:

I have applied for three paying jobs. It is hard to find a job that will hire you to work two days a week. Anyway, I applied to a position at a local chain theater. I had this idea about working in the projection room where I would never run into any peers whom are currently working at law offices or publishing houses…and I was mistaken. The theater company wanted me to wear a monkey suit and agree to sell my soul while selling hot dogs when needed. And I did not just spend four years with my nose in the books to wear a snazzy uniform and dance when someone fires a pistol at my feet!

So, I attempted applying for a position at a local public high school. I didn’t have much information when I applied for the position, and I discovered that I enjoy wasting my time dressing up and being interviewed. It was probably the strangest interview I have ever had. I walked in the doors 10 minutes early, all calm and unaware of the net waiting in the other room. Eventually I was called back to a room where three females sat. The room was like a typical closet without windows or color, except that a table was centered in it and there was little room to sit. As the group asked me more and more questions, I started to realize what it was that they wanted me to do…and it was not nearly as pleasant as I had imagined. I do not believe that I can go into the details, but I can say that I, like everyone else, have limits as to what I can and cannot do, and there are simply some teaching jobs that require more than I can allow myself to give. The real problem was that when I realized that there was not going to be any way that I would take the job, I began to get nervous! I started to stutter, which I never do, and I was sweating like I had just finished running a marathon. And when I climbed out of the net, I felt a sense of relief, as if the interrogation was over and I could go home after being held captive. I guess, at least, now I know what I absolutely do not want to do.

My third interview was pretty unusual, as it proceeded over the course of four weeks and cost me nearly 8 whole units of currency!!! It was a position I really wanted; I practiced, studied, and researched it, but failed to be selected for the position because I was not staying in town long enough. So, the interview was a good experience because it allowed me to understand the types of hoops I will agree to and will need to jump through in order to obtain the position that I want. There was something else that I discovered…my hands shake when I’m nervous, and I need to figure out what to do with them during the interview. I state that because the interviewers had given me a cup of water…which made my shaking hands noticeable every time I grabbed it.

I did find a paying job after all of my interviewing…and I didn’t even need to interview for it. And now that I work a paying job one to two days a week, I am considering starting my own business again. I guess I just really like working for free!

Time for the Talk: Experience and Money after Graduation

I graduated. My ceremonies and gatherings were canceled due to “bad weather.” It happens. I was excited to graduate considering all of the hard work that I put into it, but I also loathe crowded events where I must present myself to the world. I mean, it is nice to be proud of all that you have accomplished and be rewarded for it, but what does it really mean? Apparently everything has a meaning, from the robe and colors graduates wear to the direction that they walk. The ceremonies are infused with meaning. I was going to try to stop myself from looking like a big black clone by wearing three different colors of cords, a medallion, and two stoles. I would have looked like a rainbow sheep. But when we go home, does the robe mean the same? I wonder what people do with their robes. I sold mine back, but kept my cap. Well, I didn’t wear it, after all. Anyway, is the attire and even the event a quest to inspire a “better than thou” attitude? Why do some people choose not to attend? Are they at home laughing at all of us who feel like we deserve some sort of pat on the back? Maybe the people who do not attend such ceremonies are merely at home washing clothes or out working at a new job and moving on in life.

I do not feel ready to move on. I am set up to go to graduate school now, having been accepted to Bloomington and Pittsburgh so far, but for the next few months I will be either working or interning while taking a class on Tolkien (Yes, I am one of those people). So, what am I moving on to? Nothing feels different yet. Due to not wanting to waste scholarship money and adoring The Hobbit and learning new information, I am still in school. I will need to find a source of income because I need money to move. And that income is of course going to be far less to none if I am chosen for the internship where I will be working at a really grand place with no pay. But I have come to a point where I must say: “What is money?”

We all need money but isn’t experience so much more? How do you know what you want to use your money to purchase? Would you know that you want to purchase a taco if you had never experienced tasting one…or maybe the thought of tasting a taco and gaining a new experience makes you spend your money. In any case, the loss of money to purchase an experience (or merely have an experience) is really nothing compared to the experience. Oh carp! I am starting to sound like a commercial. Sorry, I will give myself 30 lashings this evening for that! So, my point is that the things that we experience in life often mean so much more than what we spend or deny ourselves in order to experience them. I suppose that is why I wanted to attend graduation. Having graduated from homeschool for high school, I didn’t have the experience of walking, but I suppose I will have the chance again after graduate school.

We are our experiences – each experience, good or bad, changes who we are and who we will become. Before I attended university I thought I would become an editor, writer, or photographer, and while I do enjoy editing and I consistently crave writing and shooting photos, I discovered that I really want to work as an archivist and preservationist. I suppose it is the artist in me that wants to preserve works and put them into as many hands as possible. And I know this may be my geekiest post yet (the archivist who adores Tolkien), but without passion for what we do with our lives where are we? Maybe we are at home doing laundry instead of attending our commencement ceremonies?

Delete Boring Posts and Create Adobe Cartoons

This post was terribly boring, so I deleted it and I am going to add another adobe picture for your enjoyment:

No caption necessary!

By the by, deletion is highly recommended for those bloggers who are like me and sometimes post very boring or unnecessary information (this is where the blinking emoticon sits next to the winking emoticon).