We follow our individual philosophies to the end, or until we find a better philosophy. In regards to getting the big “break” as a creative person, I’ve often lived by the philosophy that it will only happen through the combination of hard work, research and timing. For most of my adult life, I’ve followed this. But the reality is that as hard as I can work, trying hundreds of avenues that potentially lead to the “break”, it has not happened.

Over the past 15 months, since I launched Magic Junk, I have tried to work smarter and while I’ve gotten some notoriety for it, it has never offered much promise. I suppose if all I sought was attention, I achieved it. However, in terms of branching out into a career, I am still leagues away. Right now, all I have are an elaborate collection of hobbies. While the U.S. Government will declare that statement official in three years, I can continue trying to construct my little creative niche for now.

I was getting coffee this morning, and a coworker lamented to me about how many of his Lotto picks were only a number off from the winners. I admit that while I play the Lotto as well, I don’t really play to win. I play so that as an old man, I never have to say, “Well, I shoulda played the Lotto, and maybe I would have found my big break.” I consider it a retroactive way of avoiding regret. This philosophy has worked for me in the past, as participating in an online dating service, just to say I tried, allowed me to meet my wife. Was it luck, or properly fulfilled philosophy?

However, while the desire and belief to win does not sway the Lotto much, it does alter how our creative endeavors pan out. Most times, entering a situation with some optimism and enthusiasm can only help your project. All too often, I have found that I create as an extension of despair, as an escape from the cubicle bound career that I have been trapped into— but not with optimism. It’s my belief that was why my first novel has such a negative overtone to it. You cannot finish the book without the overbearing sense of the harsh reality the characters dwell in.

As I am dangerously close to beginning the initial writing for my second novel, I find that I can either stick to my old unbreakable philosophies for approaching a project, or I can try to learn from my mistakes. Thus, even if I shall be let down, I have to believe that this time, I cannot just go through the motions. This time, I have to believe that the break will come.

You wonder if anyone is listening, don’t you? That when your words reach the page, when the pixels of monitors all over the world display your name below a post title— are they listening? Will they respond? Or is this all just another devil of illusion, slowly milking the lie that you so desperately want to believe is the truth.

So what if it does give you a momentary high? Is it worth pining for? Maybe it’s not a Stephen King high, or a J.K. Rowling high— but when you’re a young writer who just wants to sculpt out a creative life for themselves, then a blog presents you with a nice moment of hope. But in truth, for the majority of such youth, it is empty. I remember reading last February of how you could get a job from your blog. That must be a fractional percentage at best. But again, it was hope. A minor shred to cling to.

I’ve spent over nine months making periodic contributions to a mass-blogger site. Thirty-seven posts worth in that time, a number that others do in a month. This passage you’re reading right now was my six-hundredth comment there, again achieved in a month by some. But comparisons and statistics prove nothing. It really comes down to motivations. The why.

For me, I never wanted to be a reporter. Or a reviewer. Or a debater. Oddly enough, I never really wanted to be a critic either, but it looks like my name will always be linked there for as long as they’re around and decide to keep archives. So be it. While my original goals in joining the site have been achieved. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t learn a lot from the experience from the types of writing I’d never done before: satire, pop culture, sci-tech, a sports article, and a book review. I even tried my hand at analyzing some political issues going on in NYC.

While I never garnered more than forty comments on any post, the reasons for writing them were always about branching out. That if you’ve been writing in a certain style for most of your life, you need to switch gears. Surprise yourself. Create a self-induced LOL. Sure, very little is guaranteed success once it reaches the real world. But who cares? It is really about the extension of self.

That site offers many ways to lose yourself in writing, commenting, praising, attacking, whatever. But the truth is that most people could give two shits about you and your life, outside of humoring you. Right now, there are twenty thousand people just like every last one of us living the same life within the same parameters. We think that we’re being original, but we’re just another copycat. Sure it’s inadvertent and innocent, but nevertheless completely true. If you weren’t dishing on the new alt-rock album or stating why a celebrity or sports star is a weasel, someone or some dozen people would be. We are all disposable.

So the biggest lesson I learned there was that before we can truly be critical of the world, we must learn to be self-critical. Instead of dissecting the world and its infinite faults, focus on why all of it bothers you. I’m writing all this now because outside of my original motivations, I’ve come to the conclusion that I too am guilty of being a copycat. It’s high time that the person I needed to have listening was myself.

I do not know what the future holds for my writing. I do not know if the 2nd novel outline I’m working on right now will ever see the light of day, or if I’ll stay stuck on an anonymous plateau like most writers do. But I have accepted my current state and am prepared to move on. Are you?

Just when I didn’t think I needed a sign to show me I am wasting too much time in my life. Not more than 5 days after I post a review discussing GarageBand 2, Apple CEO Steve Jobs announced today at the Macworld Conference that GarageBand 3 has been released.

Damn it. It’s not as if I’m moving in slow motion, but sure feels like it. I guess in the blur that is my free time, I could only apply so many hours to learning GB 2… and it was not enough. Perhaps this is a sign of getting old, eh? That programs are updated before I can even learn the previous version.

I suppose this is some type of karmic revenge though. Five years ago, I had wanted to buy a 733mhz G4 Tower, but felt the price was too high. I waited until Apple made their “new products” announcement at the Macworld Conference. Sure enough, they launched a faster speed G4, and the Tower that had been the fastest on Monday became the slowest on Tuesday. However, the price dropped as well. Buying one the next day saved me $700. You could say I bought an obsolete computer, but it didn’t bother me in the least. Had I bought the same G4 Tower a couple weeks earlier, I doubt I would have felt the same.

Luckily, this time, all that was burned was my ego. I suppose this is all part of living in the computer generation. I’m certain the teens of today will take this type of fast-food style product development and accept it as commonplace. I should too. I don’t need too many signs to know it’s time I start picking up the pace with my projects again.

When I began using Apple’s music recording program GarageBand six months ago, I started playing around without any instructions. But after some of my first compositions cracked windowpanes and exploded dog heads, I deemed it prudent to learn more. Another couple months of experimenting passed and I still felt like there were too many elements to GB that I could not use to the full potential.

So enter GarageBand 2: The Missing Manual by David Pogue, which I began reading in hopes of salvaging my fractured skills. Suddenly, fifteen pages in, I heard my own voice from five months ago yelling at me, “You fool! Why didn’t you get this earlier?” In other words, I found that David Pogue had written a clear and concise guide that makes GarageBand accessible to both gurus and nimrods alike. For me, there were enough “Aha! So THAT’s how you do that!” moments in reading this, that if knowledge was a debt, I’d owe Pogue my first-born son.

Clocking in at 272 pages, with hundreds of full color screenshots, Pogue writes from the perspective that you are opening GarageBand as a blank slate: that if you don’t even know how to drag and drop a file to a window, he lists that. But don’t believe for a second that GB2:TMM is a dull instruction manual— it’s filled with quips on music, the computer industry and even GB itself. Pogue does not shy away from pointing out anything that might confuse the mere novice, or conflict a trained musician’s knowledge. While Pogue keeps an optimistic outlook on your GB potential, he remains honest to the reader. “GarageBand 2 may be simple,” he says, “but it isn’t simplistic.”

Aside from explaining the true nature of Apple Loops, recording both live and MIDI instruments, and then editing and enhancing the collective lot, Pogue seasons each section with quick tips, FAQ’s, troubleshooting, and of course, every possible keyboard shortcut. After you have followed every lesson on composing your own soundtrack, there’s a chapter on how and where to publish your finished work.

My lone negative on the book is that since I don’t play an instrument or have a music background, I am not able to utilize a few of the instructional sections in GB2:TMM. But that’s no fault of the author. This is all part of making the manual more universal. Nevertheless, for music neophytes like me, Pogue has included a “Music Crash Course” on grasping the basics, as well as sections on reading notation and tuning your instrument with GB.

On the whole, David Pogue’s writing reminds me of a good teacher from high school: one who was not only genuinely committed to you learning the material, but enjoyed it themselves. I believe that comes through in his writing. Combined with the infinite possibilities and practical interface of GarageBand, I’ve found a book that will never be more than an arm’s length away from my computer setup.

If you’re an aspiring musician, podcaster, or just looking to try something new, GarageBand and David Pogue’s Missing Manual are an affordable and fun combination that can make things happen.

Thankfully, 2006 is finally here. Every year, I have to bite my tongue and keep my poison pen on the desk. For I can rest assured that as we celebrate the annual changeover of our calendar, all of the same clichés would emerge to haunt the masses. Since it’s a by-product of our fast food relationship with time and pop culture, it seems that there is no escape.

Someone will undoubtedly quip, “See you next year!” in a moment of pseudo-cleverness (and I heard it three times this year). Dozens of editorial cartoonists will scribble out the same old gag of the old man 2005 and the baby 2006 walking past each other. News programs, websites, and of course blogs will lay down what they thought the high and low lights of the past year were. Top ten lists, year in review, resolutions, blah, blah… blah. I welcome my chilly January with open arms. Let’s get back to the grind, shall we?

But while this righteous spew has its truth, I will not totally alienate myself from reflecting on 2005. If nothing else, this year has given me some hope, no matter how infinitesimal. Aside from getting married (an event that I can only imagine has triggered a cosmic imbalance in the universe), I watched my online universe grow and expand exponentially.

As you can see in the graph below, MagicJunk.com started out with very tiny beginnings. I remember feeling like my work was for naught when I did not get more than 20 unique visitors a day in the first three months. But I kept working, writing, tweaking the site, and launching new creative projects. Each month became the “highest yet”, only to be outdone by its successor.

Considering I have no funds for advertising and have not received any link referrals from a big cat website, these numbers are pretty good. Obviously, in showing this though, my point is not to brag. If most online businesses had these numbers, they’d be laying off employees. But since Magic Junk is totally self-sufficient, the only way it’s going down is if I pack it in, die, or get abducted by aliens. Fortunately, I don’t have plans for any of those.

Therefore, my point is simple and two headed: for you, the reader, the graph illustrates that meager beginnings are okay, as long as you don’t lose focus on your goals; and for me, it has helped me set the goal of 50K for 2006, which would almost triple the total unique visitors from this past year. Yeah, I have my work cut out for me. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.