White Noise

Words have always been important to me. Granted, I can’t spell most of them and grammar was never my favorite sport. Still, I have an unending affinity for stringing them together, albeit haphazardly, in hopes that they somehow stir the emotions of those who stubble upon them.

I’m uncertain as to the catalyst for this desire. I’m sure there’s an English teacher or two who deserve some of the credit…or the blame, and like other romantically inclined, yet challenged individuals, I attribute a portion to good love gone bad.

Despite the reason however, the curse continues, encouraging my sophomoric musings, much to my reader’s delight or disdain….depending on their level of intoxication. Yes, I’m the auditory answer to beer goggles. I sound better when you’re drunk. So grab a beer, assign a designated reader, and knock yourself out.

Anyway, we were speaking of words. Living in Singapore, I’m often surrounded by ones that mean to me what snowshoeing does to a tree frog. The sounds stalk me through the market, to gym, to the bar most of all, poking fun at my ineptitude, my local illiteracy. “A writer? Ha! Not in my country, bucko. Not by a long shot.”

The taunts began as a tirade of unidentifiable grunts, ruthlessly ricocheting off my brain. I wanted to respond. It’s my nature to join the conversation, to contribute, to solve whatever problem is being discussed. After all, I’m a fixer. That’s my profession. The only thing I’ve ever really been good at. I see the complex for the simple it is and ruthlessly redesign. I’m serious. Back in April there was an issue with closet and an over abundance of sport coats. No more. Ruthless I say, ruthless.

Wait, there I go, off topic again. See, that’s the trouble. When you can’t join conversations, you make them up. Have to keep that English fresh you know. Witty banter is like any other muscle. Don’t want to wilt away into a doughy mass of knock-knock jokes.

Still, the time off is welcome. It’s like I’ve been paroled from charm school. I can walk through the crowd, expected only to offer the occasional smile or nod. No conversation required. I’m social wallpaper whenever I wish…and sometimes when I don’t.

And so I’ve let myself off the hook. The sounds no longer stalk, they sooth. As white noise they comfort, protect and even nurture my creative process, giving me license to daydream. It’s been a while since I’ve allowed myself the luxury of a lost moment. And moments, for all of us it appears, are becoming fewer.

I’m heading out now, to the noisy quiet that’s become my reality. It won’t be a long walk, just a block or two, a quick word with the stranger I’m getting to know a bit better each day.