Music to my ears
I work in a library, so you’d think it’s a pretty quiet place. Of course, my library’s currently under construction, so quiet is at a premium. But when it is, I get antsy. I’ll be sitting at my desk and it’ll strike me that it’s quiet. Too quiet.
I don’t always need music in my life. There are times, particularly when driving, that I appreciate silence. I love to drive. It’s a small, private space that I can control (in theory). I usually have music going, but sometimes it’s refreshing to turn the radio off.
Sometimes, though, when there is no music, my brain makes its own. I recently read about this room someone built that sucks up all the sound so that all you can hear is the noise your own body makes. I’m morbidly curious about the place. They say it makes people so uncomfortable that they can’t stay in it for very long. People hallucinate, I assume they mean sounds. But here’s the thing, I do that in non-quiet areas. Clocks ticking, computers humming, fans going, my own breath and heartbeat, they all run into each other and I’ll have music in my head. That’s how my brain interprets the sound. Like my eyes see faces everywhere, my ears hear music. My grandmother, a very musical woman herself, used to comment on me humming or whistling or singing as I went about my day. Apparently she had music in her head all the time, too. Maybe it’s genetic.
Some folks might think that’s crazy. Eh, I wouldn’t rule it out.