S
ilence is hard to find as a college student. Days
pass by to a soundtrack of lecturing professor
voices, giggling cliques in coffee shops and the
deep bass of a song pumping through the floorboards
from the upstairs neighbors. Even the library, where
we would normally go to seek out silence, is steeped
in the constant murmur of tapping keyboards and
muted coughs.
Though on further consideration, it’s hard to think
of a situation where anyone can truly experience
real, absolute silence. There’s always the distant
roar of traffic, or birds chirping, or the whir of air
conditioning. Complete silence simply cannot be
achieved in the modern world, at least in any sector
of the modern world I’m familiar with, without
deliberately shutting oneself in a soundproof chamber
engineered with walls to filter out any and all noise
interference.
So why is it, then, that the noise of college feels so
particularly loud?
For the most part, the noise feels like a good thing.
If I were to craft a map of the various sounds that
pass through my ears while I am in Ann Arbor on any
given day, a large part of that map would be dedicated
to friends’ voices and real genuine laughter, a catchy
new song on my Spotify Discover Weekly playlist and
professors lecturing on how to change the world.
But the noise that surrounds us in college isn’t
always the kind that comes
in through our ears. It is the
noise of deadlines for papers on
American race relations in the
post-Civil War era. The noise of
Facebook events for policy talks,
networking opportunities and
Rick’s pregames. The noise of
unanswered texts and the noise
of unfinished job applications.
And
this
noise
can
be
overwhelming
—
crippling,
even. As a relatively anxious
person, it often feels like all
this stimuli prevents me from
accomplishing even the simplest
task — there is always so much
going on, so much to process.
Recently, the noise of a coding
project, calls about organizing
meetings and messages from
my adviser about my thesis
cumulated to the point where
I sat and stared at a blank page
on my laptop for the better part
of an hour. And I’m well aware
that I’m not the only one that
feels this way — I imagine that
it’s not a stretch to say that most,
if not all, University of Michigan
students find this atmosphere
overwhelming at times.
And yet, despite the anxiety-
inducing aspect of all this
noise, I actively seek it out. I
queue up the latest episode of
“This American Life” before
opening the front door of my
house to walk to class. I avoid
the quietest place on campus —the Law Library —
preferring instead coffee shops and friends’ living
rooms to do my assignments. Even while studying
with friends, I’m notorious for starting conversations
mid-work flow to bridge any silence that lasts longer
than a few minutes. If I’m in my room, I almost always
have music playing in the background — something
instrumental if I’m trying to be productive, maybe
some old school hip-hop if I’m in the mood for spice.
Why do I so relentlessly pursue this noise, the noise
that also persistently wears me down?
It’s the quiet parts of college that are the most
terrifying — the nights sitting alone in my room,
knowing that people are out connecting and laughing
and drinking in a world that I’m not part of. When I’m
sitting alone in the library and the silence becomes so
oppressive that all I can hear is the sound of deadlines
stacking up.
It’s harder to get lost in my own head when there’s
so much noise to process on the outside.
But that wasn’t always the case. Before coming to
college, my life was significantly less noisy. I didn’t
have a ton of close friends, but I also didn’t have
the same quantity of deadlines or applications or
extracurriculars. I didn’t go to a single party in high
school, at least the kind with alcohol and dancing and
loud music.
The silence was peaceful, but it was also
fundamentally lonely. Silence can feel confining,
isolating.
And then I came to Ann Arbor, to college, and the
volume knob turned up 20 notches.
By embracing the noise of this stage of my life,
bad parts and all, I keep reminding myself that this
is where I am now — surrounded by people and
opportunities and things. I’m a part of a community
and now have real friends and real connections with
people.
I’m trying to become more comfortable with silence
— letting myself walk to class without headphones,
studying for a test by myself rather than with others.
After a few recent experiences where the noise just
got too loud and I didn’t finish assignments, or let
friends down, I’m realizing that I need to tune it out
sometimes, for my own sanity. Turn the volume knob
down a couple notches.
But for the most part, I’m comfortable with keeping
the volume where it is. This is my senior year at the
University, and I don’t know what the next stage is
going to sound like — if it will be quieter, or perhaps
worse, louder and unfamiliar.
So for the moment, I’m embracing the noise. In
moderation. College is loud and crazy and stressful,
but it also feels right. And maybe someday it will feel
right to turn that volume knob down some more, but
today it doesn’t — so I’m keeping the sound on.
3B
Wednesday, October 30, 2019 // The Statement
3B
BY MEGHANN NORDEN-BRIGHT, STATEMENT COLUMNIST
The not-so-quiet place
PHOTO BY DANYEL THARAKAN