an immense noise
great new issue of deborah's newsletter:
we left the windows open all day, for the first time in months. it’s so quiet without the a/c and the fans whirring, except there’s also the noises of outside: metal scrapes of doors shutting, the chatter of children, cars, the faint roar of planes, distant music, laughter down the street. i finally finished an immense world by ed yong, which in its last chapters covers the immense noise and light pollution with which humans have blanketed the world.
(how many times have i wished for more light to quiet my anxiety? moving to the midwest from los angeles, it felt so dark at night. driving on the highway i would look at the rearview mirror, a black rectangle of nothingness behind me, an utter void. in southern california you can see everything, every stretch of space illuminated. a while ago, one of our birder friends posted an instagram story about turning off your night lights to support a migration path through portland. it’s always bright when i look outside at night. the glow of our neighbors’ porch bulbs. during the summer the sun sets after nine and so i stopped turning the light on. during the winter it seems rude and unsafe when our mail carriers have to navigate the dark. but i never really had thought about how rude and unsafe it is to wildlife.)
there was a NYT article about the long-term health effects of loud noise (like heavy machinery, airplanes, concerts). it’s not good (and must be so much worse to creatures with much more sensitive hearing). “you’re killing me, miso!” j says to miso every time she looses a piercing bark. sometimes i scream (sighting a very large spider or a wasp) or yell or gasp (at something incredibly innocuous) which is very upsetting to j who insists that my reactions are disproportionate to the event. i admit that i am a very dramatic person. he learned, early in our relationship, that intentionally scaring me is usually counterproductive as i will usually end up startling him. however, he does unintentionally scare me all the time, typically because i am wearing headphones and listening to a podcast or some music and fall into a flow state while i wash dishes or some other chore. i am much better than j at tuning out the world somehow, or perhaps my thoughts are so loud; i can easily lose track of what someone is saying (in a movie, in a podcast, in an audiobook).
j has attempted to mitigate this state of surprise by yelling “APPROACHING!” as he draws near, but too often, his yelling is what ends up scaring me. recently i informed him that i could tell he was nearby because my headphones were in transparency mode and he announced he would stop announcing himself. today, of course, i was listening to a podcast louder than usual and washing dishes and he suddenly appeared to kiss me and i screamed.
the other day j got a new set of earbuds with a noise-cancelling feature and he moved around the house wearing them, peaceful and content (this while the a/c was on full blast, of course). “it’s so much better,” he said blissfully.
while i was writing all of this, j texted our friends:
when i listen to deborah type on her mechanical keyboard in a quiet room it sounds like she’s murdering the keys
subscribe
we left the windows open all day, for the first time in months. it’s so quiet without the a/c and the fans whirring, except there’s also the noises of outside: metal scrapes of doors shutting, the chatter of children, cars, the faint roar of planes, distant music, laughter down the street. i finally finished an immense world by ed yong, which in its last chapters covers the immense noise and light pollution with which humans have blanketed the world.
(how many times have i wished for more light to quiet my anxiety? moving to the midwest from los angeles, it felt so dark at night. driving on the highway i would look at the rearview mirror, a black rectangle of nothingness behind me, an utter void. in southern california you can see everything, every stretch of space illuminated. a while ago, one of our birder friends posted an instagram story about turning off your night lights to support a migration path through portland. it’s always bright when i look outside at night. the glow of our neighbors’ porch bulbs. during the summer the sun sets after nine and so i stopped turning the light on. during the winter it seems rude and unsafe when our mail carriers have to navigate the dark. but i never really had thought about how rude and unsafe it is to wildlife.)
there was a NYT article about the long-term health effects of loud noise (like heavy machinery, airplanes, concerts). it’s not good (and must be so much worse to creatures with much more sensitive hearing). “you’re killing me, miso!” j says to miso every time she looses a piercing bark. sometimes i scream (sighting a very large spider or a wasp) or yell or gasp (at something incredibly innocuous) which is very upsetting to j who insists that my reactions are disproportionate to the event. i admit that i am a very dramatic person. he learned, early in our relationship, that intentionally scaring me is usually counterproductive as i will usually end up startling him. however, he does unintentionally scare me all the time, typically because i am wearing headphones and listening to a podcast or some music and fall into a flow state while i wash dishes or some other chore. i am much better than j at tuning out the world somehow, or perhaps my thoughts are so loud; i can easily lose track of what someone is saying (in a movie, in a podcast, in an audiobook).
j has attempted to mitigate this state of surprise by yelling “APPROACHING!” as he draws near, but too often, his yelling is what ends up scaring me. recently i informed him that i could tell he was nearby because my headphones were in transparency mode and he announced he would stop announcing himself. today, of course, i was listening to a podcast louder than usual and washing dishes and he suddenly appeared to kiss me and i screamed.
the other day j got a new set of earbuds with a noise-cancelling feature and he moved around the house wearing them, peaceful and content (this while the a/c was on full blast, of course). “it’s so much better,” he said blissfully.
while i was writing all of this, j texted our friends:
when i listen to deborah type on her mechanical keyboard in a quiet room it sounds like she’s murdering the keys
subscribe
Don't miss what's next. Subscribe to thank you notes: