Episode 97 - Pandemic Podcast Listens
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Okay, so it feels weird to make an announcement like this in an episode that features the hard work of other podcasters, but I said last episode that there was going to be an announcement in this one, so let me just get this out of the way.
I did figure out how to fix this feed, to the point that this podcast can continue past the 100 episode mark. And to explain that further, Squarespace used to limit its RSS feeds to displaying 100 entries. So the newest 100 episodes of a Squarespace hosted podcast, like this one, will show on your podcatcher. If you want anymore, you have to go back to the website. Now there is the option of 300, which I wasn’t sure was available to me because this feed is somewhat broken. Or not really broken, There’s a bunch of random code in it as a result of my own beginner-ness. Please remember this is the first podcast I ever launched ever, and that’s the extra code of a baby podcaster who picked the least structured hosting service.
I was afraid that the solution was completely taking down Miscellany Media Reviews and restarting the podcast on another feed, but it turns out this feed is salvageable. So I’m going to try to salvage it.
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There’s some administrative changes involved in making the switch from a 100 episode feed to a 300 episode feed, which may mean a bunch of notifications from this show, which I’m really hoping won’t happen, but if it does, I’m sorry. That 300 episode feed buys me time to figure out the feed migration, which I know I’ve needed to do for quite some time, but I’m still a baby podcaster baby by many standards. So just bear with me while I make these changes. Thanks!
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In March 2020, as the world began to shut down and we all began our vigils in our homes, podcasting microphones sold out. And hey, we all knew what was going on, right? For one, it wasn’t just people who wanted to make podcasts. Some people needed or wanted to upgrade their audio tech for online meetings. But there was a sizable amount of the population who were ready to dive into the podcasting world. Now, they had likely been considering it for a while. Starting a podcast is… Well, it’s not necessarily cliche, but it is seemingly a part of the modern human experience, and I’ve spent potentially way too much of my time trying to better understand that.
And look, I have plenty of thoughts on the subject. In fact, I have a more… academically-styled blog at unintendedreadings.online on which I will soon post my larger thoughts on why podcasting in socially distanced times just makes sense, but for now, I want to talk about some of the shows I’ve been listening to during this very long quarantine with the personal effects of the quarantine in mind.
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Hi. It’s M. Welcome to Episode 97.
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So up first, I want to talk about the Y2K Audio Drama, which is a show I have mentioned before, right before it launched and when I only had the trailers and premise to go off of. Between now and then, it’s completed its weekly season 1 and has just started its monthly season 2. To focus on season 1, it is a year-long tale of love, identity and long-distance friendship told via voicemail with a modern student as a framing device and narrator. Two friends were separated by an ocean in the year 2000, which turned out to be a pretty important year in their lives and that sentiment rings particularly true for our modern student in the year of 2020. Not clear but I’m trying to avoid spoilers.
But speaking of 2020, that created a bit of a creative conundrum, right? Because that year went off the rails pretty quickly but not quickly enough that the show runner Karin Heimdahl could have completely adapted the 2020 plot while still driving the point home. I think she did a pretty good job all things considered, but I do hate that there were so many things that needed to be considered.
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I mentioned on… Either Twitter or Podchaser, I can’t remember. That this story ends up providing a pretty interesting study in distance and perspective. You have both time and space playing a factor with regards to event-interpretation, but these two variables were also distinct from each other, which is pretty rare for such considerations. And that’s probably going to be another essay on my blog, in time. (under my breath) Those essays take forever.
But this podcast does something else. It also unintentionally highlights voice as a connection node, which is a term that might sound redundant because node refers to a connecting point. But I mean, voices in particular--being able to hear the voices of the people we care about--carry an emotional weight and the feeling of closeness to that person.
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As a personal note, I do my best to cling to the memory of my father’s voice after losing him almost 15 years ago. And the idea of losing that particular memory has always filled me with a deep sense of dread. Which I’ve always thought was a bit odd. Why was this the figurative hill I was so determined to hold if not die on?
Y2K did not fully answer that. Of course. You can’t really expect such a thing from any single project. But it did show that there was something inevitable about it. Our protagonists in the year 2000 were drawn to a voicemail service that allowed them more immediate forms of communication and to hear each other’s voices. Because remember, email was technically an option. It just wasn’t the option they went with despite also being internet-based and how it… Well, part of the plot depends on recordings picking up things that weren’t meant to be heard.
Which turned out to be enlightening. The medium of sound in Y2K ends up being a portal not just into one’s thoughts but into one’s world. It’s more obvious in this context, given things I don’t want to spoil, but the same could be said about voices as the tone or cadence of the way someone speaks ends up being a glimpse into their mood or internal world, as it were. It is a way of better connecting, especially when you can’t be physically present. Like now.
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Up next is a podcast I haven’t talked about on here yet, and in many ways, I have to wonder if it is entirely appropriate for me to do so. See, the deaf and hard of hearing communities are constantly left out of the podcast spaces. Transcripts are still apparently a contested issue in 2021. Or at least they are frequently mishandled in any number of ways. But this podcast, Seen and Not Heard, is the story of a 30-something single Jewish woman named Bet Kline, who has lost most of her hearing after an illness. This podcast is about Bet finding her way and the humor in it all--though her family situation can be super hit or miss on that front. Most critically for this underrepresented community, her story is one of adaptation and acceptance and not misery and woe like we often see.
The optimistic realism, for lack of a better, re: more technical, term is rooted in showrunner Caroline Mincks’ experiences. They serve as the narrative’s foundation, but that same foundation is going to offer different supports to the story. Like the recurring moments of vulnerability Bet has that could actually be considered thematic.
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See, adaptation is all well and good. Nothing I’m about to say is meant to negate that, so please hold in the pearl clutching and knee-jerk defensive reactions. Adaptation is good. We will all have things in our lives we need to adapt too, even when everything goes right. Like falling in love. Great thing. We love love, but at the same time, it means considering other feelings at certain times and being more vocal about your own during some others. Those are adaptations. We just aren’t necessarily inclined to use that word in that context, preferring instead compromise. We are compromising with our partner by not being up at 3 am playing the Sims once a month or so because even we know that’s a weird impulse and that’s also a really disconcerting thing to stumble upon in the middle of the night. All in all, we adapt to the new presence, the new circumstance of being in a relationship, no matter what stage or comical these compromises might be.
But to adapt is to acknowledge the need to adapt. In more blunt terms, to adapt is to acknowledge a problem or deficit. And therein lies the issue. Admitting there is a problem is to admit that things are not as they should be, in redundant terms. But that’s the more neutral way of putting it. The more common and far more negative coding would be to say that it is a weakness.
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That’s how we’re taught to think of vulnerability: as weakness. Not as a statement of facts or circumstances that must be addressed, likely with help and input from other people. No, that’s too mundane. On the other hand, vulnerability is presented as something to be feared and shied away from. Even if we don’t think there’s a problem with it, even if we wouldn’t lash out at other people or take advantage of those who do show their vulnerability, we might still be hesitant to show our own vulnerabilities out of fear of those around us. We try to pretend that everything is fine while making our adaptations privately. But Bet is not in the sort of position where she can do that.
This happens in various ways, but those ways can be sorted, for the sake of this podcast, into two categories. Bet has to adapt to the hearing world. She has to learn how to relate to a world reliant on sound for communication that is itself reluctant to adapt, as represented by her family. But she also has to learn how to be in Deaf spaces as someone who lost her hearing later in life and won’t innately know all the nuance. In both instances, she is marked by a difference she can’t really hide and must adapt herself to a new circumstance.
It might seem dramatic or cliched to say this, but part of what I love about Seen and Not Heard is the way Bet’s story takes the enduring narrative of vulnerability as weakness and reveals just how counterproductive and wrong that is. You really can’t say Bet is weak for anything. That’s not how her character is designed, written, or portrayed. She is a tough person who finds herself trying to wrestle control of her life back from the illness that took her hearing, and right now, part of that is admitting that things are not what they could be.
When I first found out about Seen and Not Heard, I was excited because yay representation, right? Yay representation of a group that is quite literally be kept out of this space, but it goes beyond that. Seen and Not Heard models a way of conducting oneself in the face of challenges that goes against so much of what is otherwise taught and put forth as the virtue, particularly when it comes to vulnerability, something that we will all likely need more off to get us through the rest of this pandemic and through the aftermath.
We should be vulnerable--admit what we need, what we could do better, and what we’ve been wrong about. Because there’s no going back to what was. We are going to move forward, and despite the nostalgic appeal of what came before, that forward has been changed by… an illness. Or virus to be more exact. I was going for cool word play right then.
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Anyway, throwing in a quick note at the end, to say that the next episode is also going to be a podcast feature. I still have so many more shows to talk about. As always.
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This has been a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. Thanks for listening! Find more information about our shows at miscellanymedia.online or follow us on Twitter @miscellanymedia for updates on current and future projects.
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