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.
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.