Record Reconstructor

This week:  Bon Iver, Paul McCartney, Death Cab, Ani DiFranco and a grab bag of other artists So, I'm not sleeping again.  Good for my productivity - if listening to albums at four in the morning and writing these works at 7am counts as productive - bad for my general focus and energy levels.  In this case, it's not exclusively the general state of the world which is summoning me from my comfortable bed in the early hours, though that's definitely still a factor.  In this case, I think either one or both of Catherine and I are fighting off some kind of low grade summer cold;  nothing major, but it's making Catherine snore like a rusty chainsaw at the moment, and there's really no solving for it.  So for the past few nights, I've been awakened by the miniature grinding wheel taking up residence next to me, which snaps me awake;  and once I am awake, both my body and mind betray me.  My ancient and infirm body tells me that since I am awake, I shoul...

  Dashboard!  I've spent a lot of my life asking myself, "what am I good at?".  Inferiority complexes and imposter syndrome are nothing new in the world, nor are they unique to me, but since childhood, I've always been around seemingly effortlessly talented people who can accomplish things I could never aspire to.  My father the spy/diplomat/musician with his speaking five languages and playing 20 different instruments, a talent that skipped me and passed to my sister, though we both got a similar dose of my families history of mental instability.  I know people who can sing, write, act, create amazing art, who are funnier, smarter, more analytical, confident and cooler than I am.  They're better cooks, tennis players, painters, and musicians than I, and a host of other hobbies I've dabbled in in the past.   All hope is not lost though.  The two things my near five decades have taught me are a decent talent for self-reflection (thank you, yea...