Noise: A Screed

Aaaaaahhhhhh!

Aaaaaahhhhhh!

Noise, I HATE you!

I hate the roar of planes overhead, the National Guard helicopters flying around and around in circles on their training flights, the small aircraft flying around and around in circles for the pilots’ little adrenalin thrill, the larger planes flying in and taking off.  I never knew when we bought the house 20+ years ago how bloody awful it would be to be under the flight paths of two different airports.  Try to sit outside and enjoy the birds and the wind in the trees, and the peace is ruined every few minutes — sometimes every minute for up to an hour — with the ROAR of a plane or helicopter or both at the same time.  It is what drove me inside to write this screed today.

I hate the chatty coworkers who just will not SHUT UP Two hours later they are still talking and laughing, I’m sitting in my cube with earplugs stuck in as far as they will go, resentment building to the point where I envision standing and screaming at the top of my lungs.  Instead, I remove myself to a small conference room, hook into the wireless, close the door, and relish the quiet and dark.  I get SO MUCH more work done.  When I get back to my cube, I can smile at the offending parties and not want to slap them upside their inconsiderate heads.

I hate the unending murmur of the television on from the time I come home until I go to bed.  If it were up to me, the damn thing would never be on, except during The Walking Dead, American Horror, Twelve Monkeys, or a really good apocalyptic movie.

I hate the overzealous screech of commercials and radio announcers.  I quit listening to the regular radio stations 30 years ago because of this.  Unfortunately, that means I’ve missed out on a lot of good music over this period.  I mute the commercials on the television when I do watch it, so the sound is on and off constantly.  Drives everyone around me nuts.  Drives me nuts.  No one wins.

When I’m especially sensitive, I hate the sound of my husband’s voice; his incessant and unending cheerfulness.  Not fair to him and I wouldn’t want him to change, so I grit my teeth and keep my damn mouth shut.

I hate the chatty Cathys on their phones on the train, as if they are the only people in the world and everything they have to say is so important, it can’t wait, has to be said now, because, by god, they are significant and busy people.

I hate the announcements on the train that bore into my head and make me wince in pain.  I’ve taken to wearing earplugs whenever I’m out in public.  I don’t have an iPhone or an iPod or an mp3 player; that would just be more noise.

I hate the incessant drone of traffic noise on the streets around me.  The only time it is quiet is around 3 a.m.

I hate the sound of my thoughts, the constant chatter in my mind.