Sunday, February 25, 2007

Seven Reasons Why Janna Will Never Have Her Own Radio Show

1. Ancient computer, unable to handle new-fangled technology for hosting own show. Ug. Must instead concentrate on making wheel and fire. Kill dinosaur with spear. Run from cybersaur.

2. I much prefer writing, because it allows me all the time I need to find the right words. If I change my mind halfway through the sentence and want to switch one word for another, no problem. Speaking is different. Once the words are spoken, they're permanently "out there." If you didn't say the 'right' one the first time, you're just screwed.

3. I tend to pause a lot when I speak. Actually I can vary between the two extremes-- either (a) speaking rapidly or (b) abruptly pausing while my brain searches its file cabinets for the right word. No doubt this is truly annoying to those who must listen to me.

4. It's so much easier to be funny in writing, because you can take your time 'sculpting' the sentences for maximum effect. If the 'joke' isn't working, just get up and go make a sandwich or take a nap or play some Mozart. Come back to it later. Sooner or later the right wording will come to you. Speaking doesn't work that way. Since when do people say "Oooh, I have a great joke I can add to that thing you just said. Give me 20 minutes, ok? Better yet, let's just meet here again tomorrow, same time, same place."

5. The DJ's worst enemy is dead air. (I actually heard that somewhere, years ago, can't remember where). With me, there would be a LOT of dead air because I take awhile to think of what I want to say. When I called into that show last night, there were quite a few pauses, like after the "favorite tree" question, and before my comment about getting eaten by a big fish. Such pauses translate into "B-O-R-I-N-G" for the listener.

6. The whole thing about taking calls from listeners... listen, folks, I'm kind of an introvert. Introvert, with a capital "I", in giant flaming neon letters even bigger than the "hollywood" sign in California. Shy. Antisocial, or, at the very least, "pseudo-social." Meeting new people really stresses me out. Blogging makes this process a lot easier, because there's the computer screen as a kind of "buffer zone". I somehow don't mind blogging to strangers; in fact I rather enjoy it. I sit here and take my time writing things, then I sit back and see if anyone cares enough to comment. No problem! But with a real live actual conversation, with me having no clue what the other person is going to say, and what I'm going to say back to them, YIKES.

7. On BlogTalkRadio, the shows are all archived, which means you can go back and listen to every show that's ever been done. The good AND the bad. While searching around there for awhile, I heard some that were horrible. Lots of dead air, miserable hosts, tons of mistakes. It all gets archived, saved forever, for the whole planet to listen to whenever they want. A few years from now, when absolutely everyone on the globe is connected to the Internet, Inuit tribes will congregate in their igloos to listen to such shows, shaking their heads in disbelief. "Who lets these idiots on the air?" They will ask themselves, in their native tongue, while seal guts roast on a spit nearby. (No, wait, I guess the seals get eaten raw. Whatever. Leave me alone.)

So, because of all these factors, I have gained a newfound respect for DJ's who actually are out there doing a good job, thinking on their feet, cracking decent jokes in a timely manner, not afraid of letting it all hang out, so to speak.
I am in awe of your auditory exhibitionism, which is not unlike wearing a big cyber-trench coat and flashing people's eardrums.
Good luck with the seals.


Janna said...

Note from Janna:
There were two comments which got deleted when I re-wrote and re-posted this entry. I discuss both of them

Morgen said...

note from reader:
any good cracker knows that pygmies live in huts.
kangaroo guts is funny.
inuit and the seals = okay, but not as funny as pygmies in huts eating kangaroo guts.
You had it spot on the first time, my fiesty saltine