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

