My first memory of getting enraged by noise goes back to when I was 11 years old.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It was the sound of a rubber ball being kicked consistently against the wall by my brothers.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I was only 11, but I vividly remember what I felt. I was uncharacteristically enraged. It hurt, physically. Like someone was kicking a ball inside my head, bouncing it against the walls of my cranium.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
I remember being so angry that I started feeling hot. The heat slowly went up through my body, starting in my toes and inching to my head. I remember trying to control the anger. I remember the insane rage. That’s it though.
The next thing I remember is finding myself standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at my crying brother. A limp green rubber ball lay stabbed open in one hand, and a knife in my other hand.
In my rage, I had subconsciously destroyed my 6-year-old brother’s green rubber ball.
But there was no more thudding. It felt so good.
It didn’t feel good for long, course. My mother was SO angry with me that I never dared to do such a thing again, ever. No more balls were popped at the Al-Assi household.
But the physical pain and rage I feel towards certain kinds of sound have not become any better. In fact, I think my problem is only getting worse with time.
My friends like to play music on their phones when we play cards. Sadly for them, I instantly lose my ability to focus on anything but the horrible sound. I can hear every hiss and every flat tone. The music simply loses all its aesthetic qualities and sounds like a disgusting blob of mismatched noise.
For the first few seconds, it is annoying. I tell myself to shut up and deal with it. It’s just music. Yeah, the sound is crap, but the song is crap anyway. This pristine logic doesn’t work for long though. My emotions are quickly overrun, and I lose my ability to focus on anything other than how horrible the music sounds. Like someone is sticking long rods of metal in my ears. That’s when I start getting angry and irritated. I ask my friends to please turn it off. They usually give me a hard time.
In my head, I know they don’t understand. To them, it does not sound like someone is consistently scraping a million nails against a chalkboard plastered over every surface of their body. You know, it’s just music. They want to play music, because music is nice and stuff. So what if the sound is just slightly crap? Roba is just being a brat. But I really am not being a brat. By this time, the pain in my ears and head is so intense that I almost feel like crying. So I go to the toilet and disappear for a while.
It’s weird, because I don’t have problems with most sorts of noise. I attended a horrendously loud and cacophonous metal concert last month. I enjoyed every second of it. I love parties, and my favorite, favorite thing about bars and restaurants is the buzz of people when combined with the crinkling of dinnerware. It’s what I miss most when I don’t go out.
It’s really weird.
And really annoying.
And I hope my friends stop playing loud music using their phones or their car’s crappy sound systems. And I hope all cars that make shrill noises disappear completely overnight, including motorcycles/scooters/etc. I hope all people who eat really loudly or drag their feet when they walk all get a really bad cold today.
I wish all bad noises would disappear.
Then I think I be much happier.