Most days, I have the television or internet radio playing all day and most of the night. I need the noise, for the constant input of language and human vocalizations. Dogs and cats are endearing companions, but they are remarkably poor at meaningful conversation. I hear a lot from my family, but almost exclusively in text form, which is how I communicate best. So on rare days like today, when I leave the noise off for most of the day so that I can read, I have to steel myself against the feeling of the silence closing in around me. I'm not fond of it. Of course, it isn't true silence. There's always the sound of a cat grooming, or traffic on the street, and my ever-present tinnitis. Regardless, I get slightly agitated in a too-quiet house. I find myself talking to the cats or having imaginary conversations out loud, just to make sound waves bounce around the room. I can't imagine how useless I would have been had I lived a hundred or two hundred years ago, without the hum of machines and easy access to the sound of human voices that I have now. I probably would have descended into madness, and I'm sure my cabin fever would result in casualties, even if only the plant or furniture kind.
My older daughter swore to me that she could not exist without music playing constantly, especially while studying or driving. I think she has this far worse than I do. At least for me, the sum total of all my music is readily accessible on an infinite playlist in my head, and I am very good at bringing up songs to hear on the inside. I catch myself moving to my inner soundtrack sometimes, nodding my head or tapping my fingers to snippets of music no one else can hear. I don't think I hum along, but if I do, I am usually unaware of it. I miss performing music. I had started practising the piano again when we first moved here, but as with most of my creative pursuits, I got distracted by something else and let it slide again. Tonight, my daughter will be playing with the basketball pep band, as the alumni are invited back to help fill out the numbers during holiday games. I envy her the chance to do it. Even if my piccolo were still playable, I'm not sure I could sight read well enough to keep up anymore. I could sing the fight songs in my sleep, but I would need quite a bit of rehearsal to play my old instruments. I will listen on the internet, and hope that I can hear my kid on trumpet, as if I could pick her out from all the others.
Early this morning, the sun was streaming in the front windows, casting light through the leaves of my shefflera and creating a neat effect against the shadows in the corner. I tried to take advantage of a quiet moment while the dogs were on their morning constitutional to photograph it, but on two separate tries, my artistic attempts were thwarted by two separate but similar faces. I will share the results from each attempt. This is what passes for a peaceful morning around here.
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