Noise
By Jacob Hammonds, guest blogger
I enter the lunchroom every day at relatively the same time. I am usually one of the first people to enter given that the location of my class is relatively close. When I enter the room is relatively empty. I hear nothing more than the buzzing of the florescent lights and mild, quiet, contained conversation. I take my seat on the end of the bench, same as every day. I make an attempt to converse with an acquaintance who is located adjacent to me. After a few meaningless words there is typically an awkward pause in which for a split second there is only the sound of silence. The sacred sound of silence is an underappreciated phenomenon.
Every day we surround ourselves with noise. Noises from cars and TVs and stereos. We even put a TV and a stereo system in a car. Even now, sitting here, I hear the squeaking of pencils against paper, the constant indescribable vibrations caused by air moving through the air conditioner and, of course, the occasional sound of snot juice being vacuumed back into one’s nasal cavity. But I digress…
So for a split second in the lunchroom, I get consumed by the simple buzz of the florescent lights and then comes a dull roar from behind me. I hear a soft piano of footsteps accompanied by quiet, indistinguishable dialogue. A certain amount of footsteps becomes more pronounced. I take a guess at who the person is before I turn around. But before I turn around, my guess is confirmed. What I hear is the sound of carbon dioxide being forced out of one’s lungs and passing through one’s larynx. As the air passes the vocal folds it causes a vibration that, in this case, resonates in the person’s nasal cavity producing a most unpleasant but very distinguishable sound (aka my ex-girlfriend’s voice). As she tries to make meaningless conversation, I turn around, trying to find any person who can distract her long enough for me to make a conversational segue to another person. My messiah has come in the form of a guy named Ryan who allows me to avoid all conversation, and her voice slips into the cluttered mess of noise which is the lunchroom.
I enter the lunchroom every day at relatively the same time. I am usually one of the first people to enter given that the location of my class is relatively close. When I enter the room is relatively empty. I hear nothing more than the buzzing of the florescent lights and mild, quiet, contained conversation. I take my seat on the end of the bench, same as every day. I make an attempt to converse with an acquaintance who is located adjacent to me. After a few meaningless words there is typically an awkward pause in which for a split second there is only the sound of silence. The sacred sound of silence is an underappreciated phenomenon.
Every day we surround ourselves with noise. Noises from cars and TVs and stereos. We even put a TV and a stereo system in a car. Even now, sitting here, I hear the squeaking of pencils against paper, the constant indescribable vibrations caused by air moving through the air conditioner and, of course, the occasional sound of snot juice being vacuumed back into one’s nasal cavity. But I digress…
So for a split second in the lunchroom, I get consumed by the simple buzz of the florescent lights and then comes a dull roar from behind me. I hear a soft piano of footsteps accompanied by quiet, indistinguishable dialogue. A certain amount of footsteps becomes more pronounced. I take a guess at who the person is before I turn around. But before I turn around, my guess is confirmed. What I hear is the sound of carbon dioxide being forced out of one’s lungs and passing through one’s larynx. As the air passes the vocal folds it causes a vibration that, in this case, resonates in the person’s nasal cavity producing a most unpleasant but very distinguishable sound (aka my ex-girlfriend’s voice). As she tries to make meaningless conversation, I turn around, trying to find any person who can distract her long enough for me to make a conversational segue to another person. My messiah has come in the form of a guy named Ryan who allows me to avoid all conversation, and her voice slips into the cluttered mess of noise which is the lunchroom.
Comments
Nice job, Jacob!
elizabeth