The band Twenty One Pilots have a song called Car Radio, which my friend Lisa introduced me to last week. I am not a huge fan of the band; sometimes I hear a song of theirs on the radio and I nod along, but this song provided a whole new framework for me to think about how I live my life.
The climax of the song goes like this-- I have these thoughts So often I ought To replace that slot With what I once bought 'Cause somebody stole My car radio And now I just sit in silence I ponder of something terrifying 'Cause this time there's no sound to hide behind I find over the course of our human existence One thing consists of consistence And it's that we're all battling fear Oh dear, I don't know if we know why we're here Oh my, Too deep Please stop thinking I liked it better when my car had sound. Upon hearing this verse I drew a deep breath of self-recognition. I realized that I always have my car radio on to block out the noise. Not my literal car radio (I don’t have a car), but my headphones that are constantly playing my favorite podcasts, musicals and albums. I feel uncomfortable when I’m not actively listening to something. And I think it all has to do with boredom. Boredom. I’m afraid of it. And yet, in avoiding boredom, I am avoiding being alone with myself. I am avoiding my personal battles; I am avoiding thinking. This doesn’t just apply to my use of audio devices; I often use books for the same goal. I read because I want to escape, escape from the fear and anxiety about my future that plague my thoughts. Sure, I learn a lot while reading and gain empathic skills that I believe make me a better person, but I still think books function as a car radio for me, cutting off my own thoughts as I lament over the hardships of fictional characters. Ironically, in the book I’m currently reading, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, there is a gloriously accurate description of boredom and its insidious nature. The main character, Offred, is what’s called a “handmaid” in a society set in the near-future in which women have no freedom. Her sole job as a handmaid is to provide children for an elderly commander. Women in this society are not allowed to read, and Offred describes the immense boredom she faces here-- “There is time to spare. This is one of the things I wasn’t prepared for—the amount of unfilled time, the long parentheses of nothing. Time as white sound. If only I could embroider. Weave, knit, something to do with my hands. I want a cigarette.” I think that boredom is one of the hardest part of being a handmaid for Offred, even though she lives in constant fear of the consequences of not producing progeny for her commander. It gives her time with her thoughts to remember the times before when she was free. It gives her time to think about her lost daughter and missing husband. With boredom her mind tortures her with memories and possibilities and dreams lost. Is that what I am afraid of? What would my mind do in silence? What weaving, mountainous paths would it lead me down? Maybe it’s time for me to find out. To remove my car radio. To spend time alone with my thoughts every day and climb into those mountainous paths to reach the other side. Who knows what could happen. I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life I had never met a person more famous than the mayor of Green Bay before last Wednesday when I met one of my favorite bands, the Lumineers. Before I go into the details of this meeting, I’d like to say that I think our obsession with celebrities is, frankly, disturbing. To me, it only promotes the strange idea that what it means to matter in the world is based on how many people know our name and that we think that the number of times one’s picture appears in tabloids is an indicator of worth. But some people, like the Lumineers and the Green brothers, are famous for a reason. They’re famous because they make things that matters to people in some way, and better their lives. And that’s all I could ever hope to do with my life, to make others’ lives, in small ways, more fulfilling. So, with that off my chest, on to the meeting…this summer I have a Public Relations internship at a Science and Technology Museum in Milwaukee, Discovery World (see—I’m learning things! Click on the link if you want to learn more about our awesome museum). It’s been great interning there—the staff is so welcoming and some of them take their bearded dragons for walks during their lunchtime. But after working there for three weeks my best day at the job so far is definitely last Wednesday when I walked into the office and my boss said, “So the Lumineers are coming in a half hour to shoot a music video and we’re going to help out. Are you okay with that?” *Cue internal fangirling. “Yes, I’m okay with that!” I replied, containing my excitement. I’ve liked the Lumineers since I heard their first album back in 2012 and fell in love with their robust sound and masterful storytelling. So it’s safe to say that I was very excited to meet them. I couldn’t quite believe it. The Lumineers were in Milwaukee that day to perform an evening concert, and it turned out they needed one more shot for their music video for “Cleopatra,” the title song of their album, which I highly recommend, by the way. The shot they needed was of them walking into an airport and their director thought that the outside of Discovery World looked like the entrance to an airport. I don’t know if I agree, but I’m not complaining. So my boss, the other PR intern, Ellen, and I went down to the entrance to get ready for the band’s arrival. We met their band manager first, Kristen, and the local production guy, and waited about an hour for the band to arrive. We talked with Kristen about the band and about her job as a manager. She was so, so nice, and told us that the lead singer of the band, Wesley, is super into fly fishing. The first person to arrive was their keyboardist, Stelth, on a skateboard. We didn’t realize he was part of the band until after we shot the music video and Ellen asked him if he’d be at the show tonight. He said, “Um yeah…I’m the keyboardist.” So embarrassing. We thought he was a roadie. The rest of the band showed up in an unassuming white van. The first two to jump out were also what we thought were roadies and didn’t realize were the opening band, SOAK, until we saw them perform at the show. They were really chill and especially cool because of their Irish accents. We could have told them anything about Milwaukee and they would have believed it. The Lumineers trio came out next and we recognized them, of course, along with the music video director and we immediately got to shooting. Before the moment when the director asked us to be extras, I had no idea we were going to be extras in the video. Crap, I rode my bike today and my hair looks like crap. I wore my boring clothes to work today, I frantically thought. But whatever, I got to be in a Lumineers music video! Ellen and I were the people exiting the airport in the shot while the Lumineers and Soak went in. We are probably in about two seconds of frame, but it was still a lot of fun to shoot with them. Shooting took about an hour and half for 15 seconds of footage, so I wonder how long it takes to shoot a whole video! The best part was after shooting when we got to take pictures with the band for Discovery World’s social media accounts, and then when Kristen, the band manager, gave me two free tickets to see their sold-out show that night. The show was absolutely incredible. The band somehow reached the emotions of all of the people in a full stadium and provided electrifying energy to dance and sing our hearts out. I included footage of “Ho Hey” below. So, the lesson of the day is, I guess, that life has many surprises left in store for me. I learned that it’s entirely possible for me to show up to work expecting to blog about rescue boats and end up being in a music video. Really, anything could happen, to quote Ellie Goulding. Maybe she’ll be in Milwaukee next and think that Discovery World looks like a spaceship she needs for a music video. You never know. Hours before I left to study abroad in Paris last spring, my dad handed me a letter that I read quietly in the confines of my childhood bedroom. The letter said that, as a father, his job was to give me roots, a place and family I could always return to where I would be loved no matter what. And also to give me wings, tools to help me fly and achieve my own independence and dreams. Until very recently, I thought my dad had made up this saying, when it reality it’s a common saying about parenting, but it’s beauty is not diminished by its banality. And I relied so heavily on the message of my dad’s letter, as both my roots and wings were both put to the test as I traveled across Europe last year.
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Anna MillerCollege student, avid reader, cat AND dog person (I don't discriminate), runner, musical enthusiasist. ArchivesCategories |