The proximity effect
One plus about life in a small place is that your neighbours actually know who you are (and care). Case in point: this morning, we received a document requiring a notarized signature. I called the local lawyer’s office, and received an appointment for less than ninety minutes later, that same day. Drove down, met him in the doorway. Signed, sealed, delivered; in less time than it takes to find an available attorney in the Yellow Pages, elsewhere.
Cross the street, and take a seat in the café. An appetizing lunch, served within minutes. Eat well, pay, on our way in less time than I’ve spent waiting to get inside a restaurant in a large centre. Back to the car (free parking) and home again within fifteen minutes. That’s the plus of proximity. It doesn’t bother me that the neighbours know who I am, back for three generations. When push comes to shove, I prefer to recognize the shover.
Trying to get my head around the capabilities of the various audio consoles I have on hand. I’m good with the simple configurations; talk loudly into the microphone and compensate with the big volume control. Where my knowledge base weakens is when we contemplate moving that signal through the system more than once. Too many variable. I’m soon going to plug everything in, and see if my ears can sort things out.
And don’t get me started on which microphone “sounds” better. If anything could be more subjective than that, they’d call it an oil painting. So much (yet) to learn, obviously.
