Before you freak out, this post is not about ending the podcast. Don’t worry. Because obviously, you must be worrying, as I am so important.
I guess it’s about time to do my one written post of the year. I can’t remember when was the last time I wrote a blog post (upon research, it looks like it was actually over a year ago, yikes). Partly because of disconcerting thoughts, and mostly because I had a shit ton of coffee. Speaking of, ever try bulletproof coffee? Amazing. Okay, back on track.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my blog/podcast, Quarter-Life Crisis. It only makes sense to hash it out in written form, as it concerns the existence and/or possible future of the podcast, which is honestly more important than this “blog.” In fact, this website really only serves the purpose of hosting the podcast, allowing diminishing space for my files (’cause I can’t afford Libsyn services presently). Early followers AKA people who paid attention to my social media and have a good memory will remember that I originally “launched” Rice Cracka as my own writing outlet. Turns out, I’m way too lazy to move my fingers a little, and would rather vomit out swear words and filler words on a semi-weekly basis for people who clearly have no standards whatsoever for a podcast.
Ultimately, I’ve managed to spin it as a verbal blog, if you will. Like back in the day where people would record their diary on a tape. Was that a thing? I’m making that assumption based off of movies and television. Sue me.
A handful of people in the “internet biz” (my name for YouTube/other areas pretty much revolving around YouTube) have suggested I take the podcast further: unsurprisingly, they say I should do a video version. Or they’ve insinuated that it needs to be bigger; they give that thoughtful look and cross their arms and ask, “So where are you going with your podcast?” and, “What are your numbers?”
Numbers. Because our relevance is obviously dictated by numbers and likes and follows and shit.
Mini-history lesson: I started Quarter-Life Crisis as a personal project, an outlet, and I still treat it as one. I was going through the normal ebb and flow of beginning life after college (see: crippling office job and then unemployment), and I fully understood that I was not the only one. Plus, with an interest in voiceover/broadcasting, and a growing obsession with podcasts (like these, for example), I figured my own podcast would be excellent practice and outlet to share with friends. I had already owned a microphone. And I had a lot of fucking free time.
I never planned on trying to “go somewhere” with the podcast, “making it big,” “blowing it up,” or whatever millennial turn of phrase that I’m sick of hearing. I wasn’t in it to make a name for myself, or to create my own brand. I can confidently say that I still am not.
Now the dilemma I’ve reached is that EVERYONE ELSE is doing that. Like-minded creatives and entrepreneurs that I admire and would fucking love to sit down and talk with on Quarter-Life Crisis are trying to create their brand, blow themselves up. Every waking minute of their time is spent on their craft, honing themselves, “them doing them.” And that’s perfectly commendable and respectable, I’m not trying to shit on another person’s daily grind. That’s why I admire them, after all.
However, this is where we differ. To put it bluntly: these people don’t got time for me. Why would they spend an hour+ out of their day to stop what they are doing to meet and speak with someone for some audio production that no one’s ever heard of? It’s not on YouTube, it’s not on the front page of the Podcasts section under iTunes. Young creatives and young professionals want the real meat. They always want to be part of something bigger, something they can share, something that people will give a shit about, all part of a constant ping-ponging of web traffic and notoriety. That’s more or less the core of networking, isn’t it? You scratch my back, I scratch yours…at some point in the future when you need it.
So my intentions are generally different than those of the ideal guests I have in mind. Please don’t misinterpret me and think that these people are solely interested in things that get them numbers, or other similarly selfish needs. I cannot stress enough that they are creators, so they’re very obsessive about putting their time into making their own art–and with people they deem worthwhile.
To put it bluntly again: I look like I’m just doing this shit for fun. And in a way, I technically am. It is definitely a labor of love, and most of the time it is fun, but I always strive to produce each episode for someone else. It’s for you, or whoever out there who needs to hear the stuff I say, because they need to know someone out there feels the same way. My only ambition is to produce better content, which means getting new perspectives from other voices. But therein lies the challenge, one that I’ve arguably created myself.
Presently, I’m not quite sure where to take Quarter-Life Crisis, and this website. In a perfect world, I’d like Ricecracka.com to be a hub of personal journals and Asian-American media of sorts, but I don’t know what direction I could take to be unique. Frankly, I’m a little tired out from all the cultural identity speak.
I still feel like Quarter-Life Crisis could have a potentially long life-span, at least for the next couple of years, but it all hinges on continuously producing original content. Which is way harder than you would think, at least, for zero budget. Finding willing guests to share their stories without caring how many hits it’s gonna get on Google Analytics is fucking tough. But I’ve promised myself not to sacrifice elements of the podcast, like length and quality, in order to “blow it up.” I never want to do that to my listeners, and for the sake of my own morality. From the very beginning, I have always wanted it to be an extremely casual, long-format production that people can tune into when they really want to soak in some content, and get away from the world of click-baits and short videos. Because that’s my favorite part about podcasts. If I can’t find enough people who share that sentiment, it might just be a matter of meeting in the middle and changing the format of Quarter-Life Crisis.
That’s all I had to say. Thank you, dear fan, for caring enough to read all the way here. Or maybe you cheated and just scrolled to the end. In that case, NO thank you! As always, I appreciate feedback of any kind, so if you have any thoughts or suggestions, feel free to comment below and start a discussion.