The Noise I Am
I hate noise. I don’t like honking cars or sirens or the sound of people walking on top of me — but that’s life in the Big City and there is no escape from noise. Even suburbia is polluted with sound — lawnmowers, leaf blowers, motorbikes and snow blowers. Everything every day adds to the cacophony of clanking we must all bear with our ears.
I find the sound I make all day long does not bother me.
My two radios, fans, three televisions and streaming internet commentary do not bother me at all.
In fact, I can even multitask and listen to them all at the same time.
Everyone else I’ve met finds the stink of my own noise incredibly annoying, stultifying and insane — and I thank them for their opinion — and then I turn up the sound on my iPod.
I wonder why our own noise is such a joy to our ears while simultaneously annoying others.
Is it because the sound is our own musical creation of the hallmarks of our day?
Or are we, the lovers of our own human environment bombardments, just the pallbearers for the death of tranquility and silence in our lifetime?