Saturday, January 7, 2012

Noise in my Head

      There is something to be said for just being.  It is so not in my nature to just be.  I must always be productive and that has got to stop.  I hate it.  The younger me found it valuable, I suppose.  At least it got me something.  Now I think productivity mostly gets me headaches.

     This afternoon I had the house to myself.  Completely and entirely to myself.  I wrapped my ears in headphones and put on a playlist I made about a year ago.  This one is called "Pretty Lies" and the lead song is - what else? - Pretty Lies by Joni Mitchell.  The songs on the list are primarily reflective:  some Van Morrison, some Dire Straits, a Joe Cocker tune, several CSN&Y pieces, and others.  I wanted to stare out the front window and think.  Or not think.  I wanted to feel.  I wanted to vanish.  I wanted to find out what the voices were saying to me today.

     The problem is that the LOUDEST voice in the crowd gets all my attention.  He is overpowering and scary.  When he talks I  can't hear anything else.  Those soft thoughtful voices become silent because they know he will win.  They know I can't hear them and they simply go silent.  Why even present themselves? The funny voices stop laughing because they know the loud guy can't laugh. As a matter of fact, the funny voices leave town.  Bye bye.  When the LOUDEST voice speaks, I have to get up and do something productive.  I HAVE TO.

    Stupid voices.  They make so much noise in my head.  Maybe that's why I have a headache most of the time.


  1. "There is something to be said for just being…" I think that is as close to "let if flow,' as you can get. As far as voices, maybe you can treat them as though they were coming through the wall, from a different environment, in which case your hear the voices, but you refuse to "listen."

  2. Ah, the lengths to which we will go to quiet or at least successfully ignore the voices in our heads. For me, it is less distinct voices and more a prickly, wordless static like white noise with discordant, abrasive notes thrown in that makes true relaxation impossible. My self-medication of choice is to shout over that noise with a near-constant inflow of new information to keep my brain busy, lest I disappear into the vortex.