Telling people that I am a part of a DJ duo is super strange. It’s not because of the actual act of DJing, but because my first-year self would probably have a heart attack if I told him what I was doing with my time. My partner and I are going into our second year as the DJ duo known by the name rnr.dj (everyone should go follow on Instagram: @rnr.dj_).
To be honest, even the progression from when we started to really invest in DJing last year to where we are now is outstanding. We have gone from stinky, unfinished basements full of even stinkier first-years to actual venues in Boston. Our success is crazy to me, considering how difficult it was to find gigs last year thanks to the outrageous DJ surplus at Tufts.
We weren’t even supposed to be DJs, which is what makes this whole thing so surreal.
It all started at Homecoming last year. Our suitemates, the revered twopointfive, were booked to play a darty earlier in the day. My now DJ partner and I — their self-proclaimed managers —attended and helped them set up their event. Like any Tufts darty, it was loud, chaotic, full of smelly first-years and inevitably shut down by the cops. Later in the day (after a long and treacherous nap), twopointfive was invited to play another party that night. They found themselves in a dilemma: They were extremely tired from playing earlier that day, but the person who invited them was a really good friend. The solution: have their two managers quickly learn how to DJ and go play the party.
They aggressively barged into our respective rooms and ripped us from our comfortable beds, placing us behind their DJ deck. We had 20 minutes to learn how to DJ. Did we learn in 20 minutes? No. But we were off to go DJ our very first gig.
I wish I could end this story by saying that we absolutely killed the gig and the audience loved us and danced the night away. Unfortunately, we were absolute booty cheeks and the party was shut down by the cops. That night could’ve easily been a one-time thing — a funny story to tell. But, somehow between the mixing and beat syncing, something clicked. We were hooked, and that became the start of our DJ career.
Now, looking back on my three years at Tufts, I can’t imagine college without DJing. The excitement of curating a set, the rush of playing that first song, the pure joy of connecting with a crowd — it’s become an integral part of my college experience (wait until my kids hear about this on some random Tuesday night in 22 years).
I often find myself thinking about DJing — especially when life feels like it’s going the wrong way. Between bombing those exams that I spent hours studying for, cancelling plans that I’ve been looking forward to and having a relationship blow up out of nowhere life can feel like a f---ed up, jumbled, chaotic mess of everything and nothing at the same time. It sucks.
But maybe that is when the universe is working its hardest — when it feels like nothing makes sense. Because somehow, every bad grade, every setback, every missed opportunity ends up pushing me somewhere better. I’ve started to realize that this chaos isn’t random; it’s part of a complex, intricate web called life.
And I wish that at every wrong turn, I could calmly tell myself, “Oh don’t worry, this is just part of a larger plan.” But it is hard to believe that when you’re in the middle of it — when everything feels unfair, confusing or just plain exhausting. Still, every time I look back, the moments that felt like dead ends somehow pointed me in the right direction. The party that got shut down, the class you struggled through, the plans that never happened — they all end up leading somewhere. It seems that the universe doesn’t reveal the plan all at once; maybe, it just gives us enough light to take that next step.
Moments that feel like mistakes, setbacks or just completely unexpected often turn out to be the universe’s quiet direction. The universe doesn’t shout or hand you a perfect plan, it just nudges you toward the right things, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. From that first chaotic night behind the deck to every unexpected turn since then, the message has stayed the same: Trust the noise, find your rhythm and when life gets loud, turn up the volume and go with it.
Mixing and transitioning,
Ben Rachel
