I’m a “white noise” kinda gal. I’ve grown accustomed to a tabletop fan constantly whirring in the background of my thoughts - not only while I sleep, but any time I’m in my room inside my apartment.
If my life had a soundtrack, it would be a loop of the sound of blades quickly moving air across a room.
I’ve known complete silence to be the loudest noise in the world. If I try to fall asleep without some kind of a whirrrrrrr or shhhhhh or sssssss, my thoughts reverberate around inside my brain, like conversation echoing off the walls and ceiling inside a new basketball court.
White noise provides auditory softness to a space.
Like pillows and blankets provide tactile comfort and decorations provide visual comfort, certain sounds offer a level of comfort or discomfort as well. Most of what I hear during my day is complete cacophony. I walk to and from work to a street symphony of my own feet on the pavement, passing cars, honking cars, mood music wafting from shops, shreds of conversation from other passersby, bike horns chiming, school busses stopping and the occasional ding or mrrr of a cell phone. At work, I’m surrounded by the clicking of my own keyboard, conversations floating through my door, my computer bonging or errring at me and the occasional semi truck lumbering past my window. I barely notice the clash of clamoring people and things, but if I had to describe the sounds, I would not classify them as “soft.”
When I get home and collapse on my bed for a few minutes before motivating my legs to take me to the gym, my fan whirrs on to welcome me home. And that sound feels like the auditory equivalent of being wrapped up in a blanket made from the fur of angel alpacas.
So if I’m being honest, if my life had a soundtrack, it would consist of a few really epic songs (the kinds that make you want to weep and laugh at the same time) and then a few hours of a fan set on high.