MadeByMark.com

Pop Gospel: More to Life

Sometimes, you hear the Voice of God in unexpected places. Like Sunday school, for example.

This past weekend, Steve Fazenbaker taught the Couples' Class at St. Mark. As part of his lesson, he brought in a pop tune from 2003: Susie Orrico's More to Life.

The sample above will give you the flavor of the piece -- which I'd never heard before -- but may not capture message of the lyrics. From the first verse:

I've got it all, but I feel so deprived.
I go up, I come down, and I'm emptier inside.
Tell me what is this thing that I feel like I'm missing,
And why can't I let it go?

There's gotta be more to life
Than chasing down every temporary high
To satisfy me, 'cause the more that I'm
Tripping out, thinkin' there must be more to life
Well, there's life, but I'm sure there's gotta be more
Than wanting more.

You could teach an entire Sunday school lesson (and a seminar on one of Buddhism's basic tenets, too) right outta that latter-day Scripture. But the lyric that smacked me square in the jaw, like a punch from a Divine fist, was this line:

I've got the time ... and I'm wasting it slowly.

Owwwwch!

Those words threw a harsh spotlight on the state of my work as a writer. I've got an hour per morning, every morning, to dedicate exclusively to a writing project. Other opportunities for writing abound: during my lunch hour, during my walk home (via dictation -- I'm not scribbling in a pad while dodging traffic on Peachtree Street), during the weekends. So: I've got the time ...

... and I'm wasting it slowly. Instead of pouring words on the page, I catch myself investing inordinate amounts of time chasing rabbits. Which is the right environment for me to be writing in: Google Docs (which is accessible from anywhere on the planet with Internet access) or Scrivener (which has a lot of features for writers that you can't get anywhere else)? Which back-up solution -- Jungle Disk or Backblaze -- is best for protecting my precious works in progress (which, because I've gotten sidetracked by this question, are no longer "in progress")?

The rabbit holes are one thing. In fact, they're almost noble diversions compared to the most low-brow time-waster of all: random Internet browsing. I always begin with the best of intentions. How, exactly, do you spell "Afghanistan?" Ah. And, come to think of it, what does that suffix -- istan -- as in Afghanistan and Pakistan and Kazakhstan, mean? And how many Marines are deployed in Afghanistan? And what is Afghan cuisine like? And how does that compare to the food in Iran?

Google, I hate you. (No, that's not true. I love Google. But the next Google Labs app needs to be a search timer that cuts me off after two minutes of clicking links.)

But I digress.

So: out of the blue this past Sunday morning, here comes this Fazenbaker guy with a song lyric that speaks to me with all the clarity of Holy Writ: I've got the time ... and I'm wasting it slowly. Yes, yes I do ... and yes, yes I am. Hearing those words was like getting a bucket of liquid reality tossed squarely in my face.

I went home an wrote that very afternoon. And I wrote Monday morning. And I wrote Tuesday morning. And because I honored my personal writing obligations, I was happier and more productive all day long. And I'm not frustrated by my rate of progress, because, you see, slow progress is still progress ... and slow progress beats no progress at all.

So: thank you, Steve Fazenbaker for bringing this song to my attention. Thank you, Suzie Orrico, for singing the song. Thank you, Damon Thomas, Sabelle breer, Kevin Kadish, Lucy Woodward, and Harvey Mason, Jr. for allowing yourself to be scribes for the wisdom of God/Buddha/The Universe.

For the past few days, I've been given the gift of time ... and I'm using it productively.

How about you?

Enya's "And Winter Came"

In today's email, I received an announcement from the iTunes Store that Enya's newest release -- And Winter Came , a collection of seasonally-themed New Age tracks -- was now available. The price? $11.99.

That struck me as an unusually high price for the collection, so, on a hunch, I clicked over to Amazon.com, where the very same music was available for $8.99.

Now, it's true that the iTunes version comes with a "track by track video commentary" not available on Amazon. But the Amazon version of And Winter Came is three dollars cheaper ... and Amazon.com MP3 files aren't gummed up with nasty "digital rights management" copy prevention software, either.

So: guess where I bought my copy of And Winter Came?

Sony Still Doesn't Get It

Headlines last week trumpeted Sony BMI's decision to stop fouling up it downloadable music tracks with DRM, or digital rights management technology. (Just in case you've been under a rock for the last five years, DRM is an expensive, broken, wrong-headed system that keeps honest people from making copies of legally-purchased music for their own personal use ... but which does little or nothing to deter piracy because pirates have easy access to software that strips DRM out of music and video files).

The real news, though, isn't that Sony is making music tracks available without DRM ... but that, in order to get these copy-protection-free tracks, Sony expects people to go to a music store and buy a specific plastic card for every album they download.

Word to Sony: people interested in downloading music online aren't shopping in music stores ... they're shopping online. In fact, I can't think of the last time I darkened the door of a music store or wandered the CD racks at Wal-Mart. A huge part of the magic of buying digital music online is getting it right away, right then, while my ears are achin' for that particular tune. I want it ... I find it ... I click it ... I hear it. That's what digital music buyers expect.

Sony's model would have me put that tune on a list, then wait to buy it until I can make my way to a bricks and mortar store to buy a plastic card to carry back home and uncover a code that I must type into my computer before I can download the track and start hearing the music.

In other words: Sony's Platinum Musicpass sucks. It's completely, totally wrong-headed, and, as an offering, it betrays a complete inability to understand the needs and buying habits of customers in the digital age.

[See Sony BMG trades cards for downloaded tunes - USATODAY.com]