"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com


February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 September 2005

 
They say that blindness and deafness heighten your other senses. In compensation for whatever sensory deficit you have, the functional senses develop more completely and seem stronger. I think the same thing happens to me when I’m tired. Mental and physical exhaustion make me exceptionally attuned to the sounds going on around me. I am not talking about some sort of cool superpower that allows me to hear butterflies flitting around in a rice field in China or something pleasant like that. The sounds I hear make me very, very angry, and things I wouldn’t usually notice start to drive me slowly insane.

For example, I realize now that the reading room of the library, which I used to believe was one of the few silent havens from law school chatter, is actually the loudest, most exasperating place on earth. The girl next to me is clicking away at her infernal laptop like the raven rapping and tapping at my chamber door. A man in the corner is sniffing every few seconds and coughing like he has consumption. I want to tell him that this is America, and we have people called doctors who fix you when you’re coughing up a lung. No speaka?? The girl with the flipflops is barreling through like a goddamn tank, people are screaming about the reading for Con Law, the guy at the next table is chomping on his fingernails, a million highlighters are squeaking in terrible harmony, and the cell phones are all chiming in with their ghastly electronic Oh Christmas Trees. The dissonance is absolutely deafening and it makes me want to pull my hair out. I need someplace quiet...someplace I can think. Maybe the construction site next door has a study area. Or perhaps a helicopter landing pad. Christ!

posted by Bekah at 11:12 AM :: |