Is This Podcast Ruining My Life?
By Devin Baron
You listen to podcasts? Sure you do. It’s 2023. Everyone listens to podcasts. Do you have a favorite podcast? I have a favorite podcast. It’s called The Big Picture. It’s a movie podcast. Maybe you’re more of an audiobook person. You listen to audiobooks? I sent my father an audiobook I enjoyed.
You got daddy issues? Mine is a workaholic. This applies to the construction business he founded in 1994 and absolutely everything else since I was born in 2002. In the Baron house, there is always something that needs to get done.
You have dreams? Those mystical, far-fetched goals still intact for ya? My plan in elementary school was to be an NBA player. My childhood best friend, Kyle, and I would pretend we were Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen every day at recess.
Podcasts are like Pippens. They are secondary characters. Supporting roles. Meant to accompany a primary action, to keep warm on the back burner while you focus on stirring the pasta at the front. The Jordan can be doing the dishes, folding the laundry, going for a run, going for a drive, or God forbid you to make it homework. How do you psychopaths do homework while listening to a podcast?
In elementary school, I would get home and change out of my uniform into comfy clothes. Then, I would go upstairs to play the PS2. I had to keep my ears alert and my heart anxious, listening for that truck door. I knew I needed to be downstairs with my math book open when Dad walked in the door. I could not let him see me sinning, playing video games instead of doing homework. If I was free enough to game, I was free enough to help him work on something in his shop for the rest of the evening.
What do you do with your evenings? Watch TikTok? Maybe some YouTube? I usually try to watch a movie. Watching a movie makes me feel relaxed and guilty at the same time.
I don’t want to be in the NBA anymore. My new dream is to make it big as a movie writer/director. I want to be an auteur. It’s something one might want to grow up to be, but I treat myself like I should be one right now. As soon as possible. But I’m a college kid. I’m 20. It’s absurd. An impossible standard.
When I go home from college for a holiday or a spring break, my dad is still impossible. We will all be in the living room, and Mom will be scrolling.
“You on your Facebook honey?” Dad accuses.
“No, I’m just checking emails,” Mom lies.
Because if you’re not working, you’re doing something wrong.
Am I doing something wrong every time I watch a movie? I shouldn’t be spending time on this. I should be writing a movie right now, not watching one. Why am I not an auteur? Because I’m not working hard enough. I need to work harder.
I still get straight A’s in college. It’s disgusting. I taped a sticky note to my wall with my classes prioritized. Screenwriting class is #1. I did that so I’d stop worrying so much about all the little reading assignments that are due in two days and focus more of my energy on the 90-page script due at the end of the semester. It hasn’t worked. There is something about those minor assignments. They scare me more when they’re unfinished, and it gives me more dopamine to scratch three or four of them off the list than it does to work on my script—to work on something more important. Does anyone else struggle with that? Too stressed about the little things to work towards the big picture?
The problem with The Big Picture is it’s getting increasingly impossible to treat it like a podcast. I can’t even do laundry while I listen anymore. As I bend down to grab the freshly washed hoodie out of the basket, I miss something Sean or Amanda said, so I hit the rewind 15 seconds button, and then when I bearhug all my socks out of the hamper it happens again, and then when I walk to my closet to get hangers for my dress clothes it happens again, and then I get aggravated enough to just pause it! I pause it. I finish folding all my laundry. Then, I lie on my bed and push play again, bringing it off the backburner and giving it my full attention.
Do you give stuff your full attention? It is a weird thing. I am supposed to give my girlfriend my full attention sometimes, but I don’t wanna just sit there and talk. What is that accomplishing? We’re not checking any boxes. We’re not getting anything done.
I understand my dad. Video games and social media are not accomplishing anything important, so why waste time on them?
Is watching a movie a waste of time? What if I accumulate more cinema knowledge and inspiration for my work? What if that is getting me closer to a goal?
But is it getting me as close as grinding out a script would? The devils constantly rage. Everything is about work…but also about having time to relax and having mental health and happiness…but mainly just work. It’s a ruined system. The fear of being a bum fights the fear of being a workaholic, splitting me, plaguing me with internal conflict every day.
The International Journal of Construction Management defines Work-family conflict (WFC) as: a form of inter-role conflict, in which role pressures from the work and family domains are mutually incompatible in some respect.
In construction talk, that means a lotta long-ass days. A lotta wife bitching and kids whining. A lotta "same shit, different day.” A lotta built-up anger. I wonder if Dad feels those devils fighting inside him. I wonder if Dad knows how much he has inspired me. I don’t want to work in construction, but I do have a lot of anger.
Kyle works in construction now. I hear he’s good at it and makes a decent living, but still, those stars are a long way off from the moon we were shooting for. We never made it to the NBA. He never even made it to college.
College is a pivotal point in people’s lives for so many reasons. They can find their group of people. They can find their identity. They can find their substance of choice. They can find their podcast.
I found my podcast. I have tried some substances. My identity has evolved. I don’t know if I’ve found my people.
My college friend group sat around in a circle one night. We all answered the question, “What’s your biggest fear?” Every single answer sounded the same. “I fear I’ll end up alone.” “I’m afraid of everyone hating me.” “I’m scared that people think I’m annoying.”
Their answers are annoying. It’s all about people and happiness. Ugh. Where is the drive? Where is the achievement? Where is the legacy? These people want to be English teachers, accountants, and civil engineers. Nobody wants to make a big splash.
Are you a big splash person or are you just wading? I am a poor swimmer to this day. I am also a substandard construction worker. Those facts are not from a lack of exposure. I grew up on the Gulf Coast, so we had multiple family friends that lived on the water, and I’ve probably been on over 200 job sites with my dad. Those facts are from a lack of help and guidance. Dad and others expected me to do something a certain way without the proper time spent by anyone teaching me how to do it. I just needed some more help.
You feel like you need help? I feel myself needing help. But therapy costs too much money, and I’m a broke college kid, so I guess I try to put it all into my art, but then my art makes me unhappy, but then I’m unhappy if I’m not working on my art, and I don’t want you asking me about my art, but I do want you to like my art, and I’m too busy to hang out because I’m grinding, but my gears are toast and I’m so tired of grinding.
Am I a workaholic? I should take tonight off and relax. Cool. Oh but what to do, what to do? A movie?
This movie sucks. My movie probably sucks. Should I keep trying to chase this? Should I give it all up and start being a better friend? Should I cut off all my friends and spend every hour of every day chasing my dream? Should I stop watching movies? Should I stop listening to podcasts? Is this podcast ruining my life?
I talked to two friends a few days after the big group gathering. Neither remembered my answer to “What’s your biggest fear?” I guess it didn’t stick out to anyone else. It stuck out to me. It wasn’t about people or friends or happiness or health or sanity. My answer was this: “I’m afraid I won’t ever accomplish anything important.”
But what the hell is important? If I surpass Hitchcock and Kurosawa and Spielberg, but have no one to love, is that a life well-lived? If I have amazing, wholesome people around me on my death bed, but I worked at UPS my whole life, is that any better? Who cares about either of those people? Who decides? Where does self-worth come from?
Sorry, too many questions? Am I being too deep? You’re digging your toes deeper into the sand right now, aren’t you? You’re chilling, fantasizing about that thing you’ll never do. Sorry.
It’s just that I hate sand. Not in the Anakin Skywalker way, but in the “God, I wish I could just go to the beach for fun for once and not be building houses all the time” way, and also the “Hey, I’m finally here just for fun! Hmmm. I could probably be doing something much more productive right now” way.