The Podcast Prodigy

Over Christmas, I got a new iPod. This was a huge deal for me and everyone in my neighborhood. Why a huge deal for me? Well, the old one (a 20GB-er) was full. Why a huge deal for my neighborhood? When I filled my iPod up, I stopped carrying it around and instead started carried a humongous, mid-80s era boombox on my shoulder. Yes, I broke a few windows, but when I hear the chorus of Parents Just Don't Understand, I am going to crank it up.

Now that I have 80 whole GB worth of storage on the new 'Pod, thanks to pater familias, I've been dipping my toe in the waters of podcasting. Before, my relationship with podcasts was a lot like my relationship with The Wire: I know it's out there, I know it's probably good, I know people who swear by the stuff, but I have no firsthand experience. (The same holds true for the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Guided by Voices, as well as voting and flossing.)

One of the reasons why I was so excited to try podcasts is because I legitimately love talk radio. My usual station in my car is NPR, which has led my sister to declare that riding around with me is like riding around with a grandparent (a well informed one, I might add). Also, every morning, I wake up to crazy right-wing talk shows. I started that by accident, and I cannot recommend it strongly enoughly. It makes it much easier to get up and turn the alarm off when I'm fairly confident the host is about to initiate a race war.

I directed all of this enthusiasm at iTunes, and I subscribed to a hell of a lot of podcasts at first. I was learning Mandarin on one, monitoring stock options on another, and exploring the cosmos in a third. For about a week, I was a really interesting person to talk to. Then, I started slipping on a few of my 'casts, and now I have around 70 hours worth of audio I must sit through. I would worry about this, but then I have 80 GB to fill.