Last week, my coworker played a Spotify station called “chill EDM” for like 4 hours and every other track was a cover song. Imagine a tears for fears song that an aspiring DJ college student from Florida destroyed with GarageBand and that is my version of hell.
Now imagine me trying to play that opening guitar riff from “Everybody Wants To Change The World, badly, then stopping, then starting again, over and over. That would kill you.
One more addition to your list: when the mail/FedEx/Prime truck/neighbor kid riding his bike approaches the house and your lovable German Shepherd suddenly goes Nazi at the window.
The most difficult for me is when people are outside talking. I find myself torn between their conversation (are they talking about me?) and the important one going on in my video conference. You guessed it. I'm focused on the conversation outside.
Once again, we must journey back to the time of our imaginary ancestors, the Flintstones, to understand this phenomenon. Naturally, the ambient noise level in the Pleistocene was much lower (except for the occasional volcanic eruption). Therefore, Fred was able to detect the padded footsteps of the saber-toothed tiger (forget the Latin name) as it crept up to his modest Cape Cod Cave Dwelling. When Fred was doing the hunting (with his good buddy Barney, of course) he had to listen intently for a suitable quarry to stab with his spear for Wilma to cook up back home. Thus we, Fred's distant descendants, have retained his sensitivity to ambient noise, and the flight or fight reactions that kept our predecessors in giant sloth burgers, and out of the stomachs of larger predators. I hope this has cleared up some of the quandaries expressed in your recent essay.
Whether it's the apartment being built next door or the man who shouts his nightly phone conversation in a foreign language within earshot of our bedroom window, loud noises at inopportune times have become somewhat of the norm this past year.
Last week, my coworker played a Spotify station called “chill EDM” for like 4 hours and every other track was a cover song. Imagine a tears for fears song that an aspiring DJ college student from Florida destroyed with GarageBand and that is my version of hell.
Hahahahahah
that’s hilarious. and i’m so so sorry.
Now imagine me trying to play that opening guitar riff from “Everybody Wants To Change The World, badly, then stopping, then starting again, over and over. That would kill you.
One more addition to your list: when the mail/FedEx/Prime truck/neighbor kid riding his bike approaches the house and your lovable German Shepherd suddenly goes Nazi at the window.
With ya Man! Crazy shit plus karma equals life. All we can do is take it with a smile. Thanks for providing one! 👊
Made it back from your trip ‘round the Horn, Skipper?
As in life is in death you can’t get away from lawnmowers and weedwackers!
The most difficult for me is when people are outside talking. I find myself torn between their conversation (are they talking about me?) and the important one going on in my video conference. You guessed it. I'm focused on the conversation outside.
It’s A Small World, the theme song from that ride at Disney Land, over and over and over… definitely a form of torture.
I used to laugh at Robert Benchely when the drip drip drip of the bathroom water faucet kept him awake. It's true!!!!
Once again, we must journey back to the time of our imaginary ancestors, the Flintstones, to understand this phenomenon. Naturally, the ambient noise level in the Pleistocene was much lower (except for the occasional volcanic eruption). Therefore, Fred was able to detect the padded footsteps of the saber-toothed tiger (forget the Latin name) as it crept up to his modest Cape Cod Cave Dwelling. When Fred was doing the hunting (with his good buddy Barney, of course) he had to listen intently for a suitable quarry to stab with his spear for Wilma to cook up back home. Thus we, Fred's distant descendants, have retained his sensitivity to ambient noise, and the flight or fight reactions that kept our predecessors in giant sloth burgers, and out of the stomachs of larger predators. I hope this has cleared up some of the quandaries expressed in your recent essay.
Whether it's the apartment being built next door or the man who shouts his nightly phone conversation in a foreign language within earshot of our bedroom window, loud noises at inopportune times have become somewhat of the norm this past year.