For the first time, probably since I got my driver's license, I turned off the radio last week.
At the time, I was gearing up a podcast to listen to on my way to Sioux Center. But even after the podcast was finished, I kept the radio off. I drove in silence. And I've continued to drive this way for the past week.
To be honest, I don't notice it much of the time. My commute isn't far, and it's easy to just hop in and turn the corner before realizing that there's not a Top 40 song ringing in my ears.
Only a few days ago did I realize the silence. I wasn't getting bombarded with commercials or with nasaly singing voices who "made it" largely due to their six-packs, tattoos, and shiny, perfect hair.
I've noticed that Nic and I talk more in the car now. Not that we drove silently to our destinations, we've always talked, but now we're not trying to shout over Gotye or Rihanna.
Sometimes it's nice to be silent for a moment. We now live in a world where noise is constant: our radios, televisions, and stereos seem to always be on. We have to have it in our lives, in part because it keeps us from our own thoughts. When the noise is turned off, we're forced to hear ourselves, and we're forced to face issues we may not have noticed before.
When I want to listen to something, I will hook up my phone or put in a CD. At home, I will watch certain shows at certain times. And when I do choose to listen to a song or watch a television show, I find that it affects me more. I'm able to think about what I've just taken in, and I'm able to understand how my own creative process will benefit from it.