Wednesday, May 21, 2008

On the importance of quiet.

I live in a loud-ass city. It's big, it's noisy, and the only way to get it to stop is to shoot every last goddamn person here square between the eyes. But, because that would require a lot of bullets — and my team of lawyers also advises me that it's somewhat illegal — the best thing I can do is to try and control the amount of noise I'm exposed to.

In case you don't know, I'm a teacher in a high school. And in case you don't know, teenage kids have one volume: fucking loud as shit. It might be because of the iPods they constantly have jammed into their ears, killing their hearing and makes them have to shout just to be heard. Or it might be because, in order to sell their drugs on the street corners, they have to yell over the constant sound of gunfire. Either way, the place is filled with hundreds of kids, screaming their heads off for six hours a day.

It also doesn't help that I have a few moronic colleagues who decide that the PA system is their personal play-toy — they jump on there and scream this, that and the other into the thing, perhaps not realizing/caring that, when they get on there, everyone in the school has to stop every conversation they're having, because their idiotic voices are blasting in everyone's ears. A kid is asking me an important question in a hallway? Gotta stop talking until the douche on the PA is done. Having a professional conversation with a colleague? Same deal.

In addition, I live in an apartment facing a major street, which is not too far from one of the largest hospitals in Toronto. Sirens and incessant traffic noise: a combination forged in hell. Oh, and let's not forget those quiet summer nights at 1 am, when you have the windows open because your apartment is a goddamn sauna, and some asshole decides to open 'er up on his sports car or, worse yet, Japanese motorcycle, when the light turns green. Yeah, we all appreciate that, asshole.

This has turned into a major rant, I guess. I'm not sure it has a point, and I'll just stop here, but maybe Psilence would help.

1 comment:

Eve said...

That's the one nice thing about living where I am currently living. I don't have to wait for a transit strike to have streetcar-free sleep. The assholes still open up the ol' cars, but they usually crash them shortly thereafter so it only happens once every few weeks. And execution-style shootings clear out the louder drug dealers.