Twenty One Pilots: lyrical geniuses

I am not sure if this is true, but my opinion.
& this opinion is coming from someone who loves the music industry, I don't know much about it but I do know a little. I do know what back stages are like, I know what tour is like, I know what unloading and reloading a trailer is like. I know what working a merch table is like. I wanted to to be a band manager- I honestly have always wanted to do  it since I was 15, I'm still intrigued by bands and the family that they form on the road. I am fascinated by the fans and by the shows, but mostly I'm taken back by their passion.

In the past week I have been to two different shows, completely different. One was folky and one was punk music. One was for me and the other was for my little sister. I saw Brandi Carlile (maybe I will write about her some other time) --The other was TwentyOne Pilots.

before I start this, know that I am just stating my opinion. If you get upset, please do not be passive or  rude. Ask me questions.

TwentyOne Pilots is the most interesting band I have ever in my entire life encountered. Wednesday about lunchtime, my sister was ready to sit outside of the venue in Atlanta and wait in line for 6 hours because the show was general admission. With that being said, we brought blankets and sat on the ground while we made friends with the other fans who showed up or had been there for 12 hours. Before this show the only time I'd ever listened to this band was on the way to Atlanta the night before, she was excited so we listened to them the entire drive. As I tried to figure out what their lyrics mean or even say, I asked her questions about the band. Camaryn told me all about them and one thing that stood out was that she said they were christians. As I quietly listened to her sing the songs in the car, I wondered if it was true. They hadn't come out to say it in any interviews or lyrics, necessarily. They just talked a lot about dark things battling the light. So I pushed it aside and promised myself that I wouldn't try to figure anything out until after watching them perform.

Back to Wednesday: As we waited in line, I noticed their fans. All very punk rocky fans, they had tall socks, tall converse, colored hair, gauges, tattoos, dark eyeliner and a few even colored their neck and hands black to copy the lead singer, Tyler. I felt out of place, of course I was wearing camouflage vans, a grey t shirt, a flannel and jeans. We got to know the people around us and of course it was a competition to see who knew the band better. Who had taken the most pictures with them or who had seen them the most times. A guy asked me if I had ever seen them live and I shook my head, only for next question to be "what's your favorite song by them?"  --Camaryn then stood up and said, "she brought me here, she doesn't really know their stuff." It was as if I had just told the kid that I hated puppies, he seemed so bothered and when he asked me what I listened to I think my answer was, "shows with seats, folky, acoustic type stuff- Johns my favorite." Needless to say, he didn't know who that was.

I digress, the doors opened and we had our place on the floor. Camaryn seemed to be good with where we were before 'the push'--I'd warned Camaryn about it, I told her that when the opening band plays that there is a push from the back and that I will have her. The first push happened and it was alright, we just couldn't move our hands. The second push happened and I could feel every part of the girls body behind me. Then Twenty One Pilots were about to come on-- we had maybe ten minutes before they took the stage and this push was so bad that my arm was wrapped around Camaryn's waist and I told her not fall, she was able to pick her feet up completely while the crowd took us wherever we ended. It was like being stuck in a rip current. I explained that when the band comes on that it gets worse and being that this is her first ever general admission concert, she wanted to get out of the pit. As I grabbed her hand and was wished luck from the stranger next to me, I promised her that I would get us out of the pit. 45 seconds later I had pushed at least 25 kids who literally said no to me and got my baby sister out of the pit. She ran upstairs and got a seat. We didn't get to sit together, which was a bummer but still okay.

My seat ended up practically backstage,  I could see the crowd as they saw the crowd and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

here's when my opinion comes in.

as I watched this band perform their weird set, I watched the crowd repeat and know every single word to his fast, fast lyrics. I watched them mimic every single move he made and I watched some of the cry as they listened to him play the ukulele and sing loudly. I was perplexed by this-- is that what I look like at shows? A fan looking up at a person that I have glorified on my own? That thought rushed through quickly and I sat down in my seat and leaned over the balcony to watch him walk off and on stage, I watched him as put on a persona before walking back on. Now, I am not saying that this man, these two men, are two different people. I simply saying that Elton John isn't as colorful off stage as he is on -- same with this band. They are real people with real lives and good families. This person that they put on is different than what they are with their families.

I currently have so many thoughts rushing through and trying to grab them and type this is nearly impossible. This band is incredible. It's two dudes, with normal lives and normal dreams. However, their lyrics have saved so many people lives. Before the show ended, they did this really huge number where they get the crowd to sing back at them-- so the house lights come on and you can see everyone in the crowd. I looked at almost every face and thanked Jesus that they were there. But, while I was confused as to why I was thanking Him in that moment-- He answered my question before I could even ask it. This was how He has to keep these kids on this earth-- no it may not be the way we want it to look, it may not be a youth groups or a church retreat, but its two guys who have struggled with depression and they overcame it and their lyrics are beyond anything I've ever heard.

These guys wear masks on stage, weird mask, nonetheless, and they do weird body ticks and they wear certain things, but its how they gained who they are. It's how they got people to listen to them. I'd like to think that the masks mean more than I can even put into words. I think they are hiding behind their insecurities, but a lot hiding to let their fans know that it isn't about them. Before they took their final exit off the stage, their last words are -- "we are twenty-one pilots and so are you."

Here is the mind blowing part of it all.
Most of their lyrics are about Jesus.
And every kid that stands in that crowd and screams them at the top of their lungs, may not know it at the time, but they are screaming a man's journal to his Father. They are screaming thoughts that a guy struggles with daily. But they can relate. People turn their noses up this band because they wear masks and paint their neck and emo kids love them-- but today I did my research.

And I have come to the conclusion that this band is just two men, trying to figure it out and being honest about every single struggle they have. These two guys have helped keep multiple teens in this world, there is not doubt in my mind. Sure, it may be that those teens are glorifying the band-- but I think as they get older and wiser that they will realize that it wasn't the band that kept them from offing themselves, it was two men who weren't scared to be transparent 

Kitchen Sink

Are you searching for purpose?

Then write something, yeah it might be worthless
Then paint something then, it might be wordless
Pointless curses, nonsense verses
You'll see purpose start to surface
No one else is dealing with your demons
Meaning maybe defeating them
Could be the beginning of your meaning, friend.

Doubt 

Don't forget about me,

Don't forget about me,

Even when I doubt you,

I'm no good without you, no, no, no, no, no

Gnawing on the bishops, claw our way up their system,

Repeating simple phrases, someone holy insisted,

I want the markings made on my skin,

To mean something to me again,

Hope you haven't left without me.

Hope you haven't left without me, please.

Johnny Boy 

We all need you now

I will carry all your names and I will carry all your shame
And I will carry all your names and I will carry all your shame
And I will carry all your names and I will carry all your shame

Get up Johnny boy, get up Johnny boy
Get up 'cause the world has left you lying on the ground.
You're my pride and joy, you're my pride and joy.
Get up Johnny boy because we all need you now.

March to the Sea
And hear a voice inside my head:
Follow me instead
Follow me instead
Follow me

Then the wages of war will start
Inside my head with my counterpart
And the emotionless marchers will chant the phrase:
This line's the only way

And then I start down the sand
My eyes are focused on the end of land
But again the voice inside my head says,
Follow me instead
Follow me instead

Addict With a Pen

In fact,

I'm only at it again

As an addict with a pen

Who's addicted to the wind

As it blows me back and forth

Mindless, spineless, and pretend

Of course I'll be here again

See you tomorrow

But it's the end of today

End of my ways

As a walking denial

My trial was filed as a crazy

Suicidal head case

But you specialize in dying

You hear me screaming

Father

And I'm lying here just crying

So wash me with your water

Water

Hello

We haven't talked in quite some time

I know

I haven't been the best

Of sons

Hello

I've been traveling in

The desert of my mind

And I

I haven't found a drop

Of life

a letter to my sisters

This blog is to my baby sisters. They really aren't babies anymore-- one is in 9th grade and one is a senior. They are growing up. I still remember the days they were born, I can't remember every detail, but I remember when Caroline was born- I was 6, it was Christmas Day and I got a trampoline from Santa that year. My daddy walked me outside to let me jump on it for 3 minutes before we had to leave for the hospital. I remember him holding onto my waist as I jumped because he didn't want me to slip, it was covered in cold dew. My mother stepped onto the back porch and said "it's time" and just like that we loaded into the car and headed to the hospital to await Caroline Julia. I remember seeing her for the first time, I didn't think she was cute. Weren't they supposed to come out looking like baby dolls? Then there was Camaryn Joyce three years later. I remember still getting use to having a toddler running around and it was time for the diapers all over again. I went to school on Halloween, not knowing that I would be checked out by my momma's best friend. I don't remember much about this one, not that I didn't care as much. I just remember clips of the day- like how the hallway at the hospital was decorated and how Nonno handed her to me the first time I got to hold her. I remember her looking the same way as Caroline, even though I was older I was still confused as to why she didn't look like a baby doll.

Watching them grow has been one of my favorite things, from playing outside to hiding in the dryer. We've been together. I lifted a dresser off of you after you thought it was smart to climb it and I have sat in the field with you as you've cried about boys. It's never easy being the older sister. I've cried a lot over you guys, I've sat through a hundred dance competitions and band recitals, I've been to softball games and cheerleading things and I have complained about nearly every one, but the second you have your solo-- my heart quits beating and I'm the first to shout after you're done. I am proud of you for those things, but I'm not writing this to tell you about the past or to tell you how proud you make me to be big your sister. I am writing you this to tell you that you are worth the world. You're getting older and relationships are coming fast, really fast.

You are young, very young and your hearts are easy to please at this age. I remember being in high school, I put all of my faith in a boy. All of it and when he left me, I lost myself, or who I thought I was.

The other day I was in a church in South Carolina. I looked at the youth group, I watched these guys walk in wearing really nice clothes and I watched the girls come in and sit right beside them, of course they were dressed wearing their Sunday best. I watched them during worship and my heart felt heavy. Heavy because their life isn't defined by that, I am not saying that each of them were there for this reason, but they seemed distracted. They seemed to be more focused on the boys next to them, than the man talking about orphans on the stage. I am not judging them because I have been there more times than I care to admit.  However, as I watched them I felt what they were feeling. Young girls these days are so afraid to live their own lives, afraid to be single- so they settle. They settle for the young guy who attends church with his great family and wants to be an engineer when he grows up. Their relationship gets serious only leading to the next thing young people go to and just like that-- they've lost themselves.

I was that girl. Afraid to live my life, to do my own thing, to figure out who I was. So I settled for many relationships that did not fulfill what I knew I needed. But I will tell you this, I am not a failure. I am not weak because I am single, I am not going to die alone, I am not ugly, I am not mean, I am not an old cat lady. I am me. I am Callie. I am the one who loves family, who loves kids, who loves her cat, who loves Netflix and loves Jesus. I am the one who is moving to Uganda in five short months. I am the one who loves candles and I talk all the time. Silence makes me uncomfortable, I hum when its too quiet. I love movies, all kinds. I love music, all kinds. I think a lot. a lot.

But on the contrary I am not defined by my singleness. You will not be defined by your singleness. You are strong, you are beautiful, you both have such awesome hearts of service (you may not know it yet), you shine when you're in your element. Your joy radiates a room.

I am telling you these things because the enemy will use anything he can to hold you back from living your life. He will lie, lie, lie to you. Don't fall for it. Don't get caught up in someone who isn't worth you, all of you. Don't get caught up in things that don't deserve your time. I wish I could write you a book based on my mistakes, but those are things you have to learn on your own. I wouldn't be the person I am now if it wasn't for the heartbreak, the love, the real friends, the fake friends, the boys who promised me the world and took it away in one sentence. I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you that your husband-- the man you will marry is on his way, he's coming as fast as he can, but he's not coming in his timing-- He's coming in Jesus' timing and that's the best time. He will love you, but he will love Jesus more. He will lead you, lead you in ways you need to be led -- to Jesus. He will let you be you, no matter how messy that is somedays. He will listen to you and he may have words, but he may not and that is okay because he was designed for you.

I can't protect your hearts for you, but I can pray for them daily and I am. Guard them girls. You won't regret it.

With all my love,
Your big sister

overthinking.

I can tell when I haven't written in a long time because I start studying people more and more. I write stories about them in my head. Its been so long since I've last written that I could write a couple of books about complete strangers. I haven't written in awhile because I'm scared to be transparent right now, but I told myself that I would be. I actually promised myself and so here goes --

I am struggling.

Im 23.
Unmarried.
I do not have children.
I am moving to another country.
I think I cry daily.
I feel like I am losing all my joy, if that a real thing.
I need to read my Bible more.
I struggle with relationships currently.
I am moody.
Im not sure where this blog will end up.

Tonight I sat at a football game and watched families who grew up in the town, found their spouse in the town, now their children go to the same school they graduated from and here they are sitting on the bleachers next to their classmates screaming at the football game. As I watched them my brain went into creating stories about them, but being that I knew them it wasn't much of making up a story, it was more of watching how the couples interacted with each other. They loved each other. As one man yelled to the football ref I watched his wife lightly tap his leg with her hand- he quit yelling. I watched another man sit down and his shirt come up a little, only for his wife to pull it down for him and fix it. I watched another man guard the seats as his wife and three children went to the bathroom. Every story different, but beautiful.

I overthink naturally, its something I do. I hate it. But as I studied these couples I wondered how they got to where they are. How many fights, how many stories, how many trips gone wrong, how many births the husbands sat through, how many times they've said ' I love you,' how many times they thought about walking out, how many days they've been tired of the 'usual' -- I wondered if they overthought things when they met their spouse or if it all just came naturally. I wondered if they overthought their calling daily or if they just lived life.

I guess this post is something that I've been needing to get out, I cant enjoy my own life.

I can't go thirty minutes without this exact thought, "am I doing the right thing? What if I step outside of my calling?" and it paralyzes me. I've been like this for maybe two years. It's just multiplied since my commitment to moving to Uganda. I can't get excited about moving because I wonder if I am 'called' to Uganda. I can't balance relationships and the process of moving, so I push people out. I can't sit in silence or my mind goes 100. This is a daily struggle.

I have a friend who helps talk me through my thoughts. This past week while ranting about not knowing what my calling is specifically. I was told that my calling was to love like Jesus loves, to be his hands and feet. I am going to tell you that I don't know if I am called to Uganda for the rest of my life or if I will end up building a school in every country or if I will end up in Knoxville running a nonprofit out of a studio apartment. I don't know what my calling is forever, I think mine changes in every season and if I'm wrong biblically, someone correct me. Please.

I think that Jesus knows how I work, I mean he did create me after all.  He knows that I overthink and sure, he dislikes it, but he knows its something I do. So he shows me himself in ways that I know he is leading my steps-- no matter how many times a day I question my calling. There's too much pressure on that word. I know that my life will be nothing short of beautiful because Jesus is the author, but in the meantime-- I am a mess.

Here's to living in the moment.