In a city that is utterly populated, it’s hard to find solitude. Every day I see different faces - business people rushing to catch their train at the end of the day, art students sketching and drawing in Rittenhouse Park, people sipping coffee outside of a cafe, children splashing in the fountain at Love Park - and all the sounds of Philadelphia suddenly become white noise. The busy-ness and congestion of this city can drive you to a migraine.
After a long day of work all I want is to escape. To lay around, close the curtains and breathe. But even then I cannot find it. A quiet night doesn’t mean I will escape this chaos. The street on which I reside never sleeps. Cars breeze by honking their horns; ambulances and fire trucks sound off down the street at all hours of the night; people walk by as their conversation echo’s into my bedroom. Just then, my thoughts are interrupted by the heavy steps of my roommate. His presence robs my peace and the noise fills my head. Although I cannot blame him, for he may be searching for the same escape in this apartment. Perhaps that’s why the rent is so high - the demand is not to live in this city, it’s for the escape that the residents need. This room holds miles of personal space you can’t get on the ride to work or even in the public restrooms. Even so, I turn on my iPod and plug myself in, in the hopes that I can at least pretend to be alone. Noise overtop of noise overtop of noise. Even if I was to record the sound of silence, of absolute nothing… and then blast it… it’s not eliminating sound, only adding to it. By definition, it’s hypocritical.
To live in a city that feels like it never sleeps can be exhausting at times. I’m right smack dab in the middle of everything - museums, bars, restaurants, theater. There’s no such thing as a “quiet friday night” in this city. Everyone is on the go. As you leave the bar you have to dodge your way through the cluster of people and the clouds of cigarette smoke that lingers outside the building. As you cross the streets you have to dodge the taxi cabs that zip through the red lights and make illegal turns. Walking around this city, it almost feels like you have a greater chance of getting killed by a taxi cab than you do by a stray bullet.
I can’t escape the city. Silence, peace and isolation don’t exist here. Even sitting on a park bench drowning yourself in a good book won’t do the trick. Children and puppies roam the park and they either catch your eye or fill your head with noise. Homeless men approach you with vegetables in hand and make obscene hand gestures; pigeons fly to your feet and peck at the crumbs you leave behind; ringtones of cell phones go off every other second. How do you escape the insanity? How do you find your peace without letting the world consume you?
Maybe silence and isolation won’t bring peace. Maybe it’s through our own little escapes of the mind. This is what I like to call ‘me time.’ It’s our private thoughts when someone is telling us a really boring story and our only response is a nod of the head and a smile. It’s the calm effect of washing a sink full of dishes. It’s our own little white noise.
Filed under: complete randomness, voices in my head
