Sometimes I wish that I could live in the hum of my hairdryer. It’s loud enough to obscure my ears from the deafening shriek of the world. It’s not even that I have anything particular against what goes on out there in reality, because I don’t. It just gets to be too much.
Every other word out of someone’s mouth these days speaks of catastrophe or cacophony. I can’t even listen to the radio without some political commentary, nor can I watch your basic cable-TV sitcom.
Much like this negativity, the hum of my hairdryer is relentless. It fills up my ears until all I can hear is that, and maybe the occasional bark of my dogs when they see the mailperson outside.
Sometimes I want to crawl into my closet and hide from the world. It’s so much simpler to just sit inside a dark hole with the doors shut, hiding beneath a bunch of comforting clothing, knees pulled up to my chest.
Yet I know that what waits just beyond those white accordion doors is a world that is confusing, arbitrary, beautiful, and frightening. Time won’t stop for me while I’m in there. Neither will the cacophony.
Sometimes I wish I could just be one of my dogs. They are cute, lovable, and genuine. Their only worries concern food, water, and the belly-rubs they are likely to receive for being good.
Dang, isn’t that just the high-life right there? Maybe I should just get high or drunk. Then I wouldn’t care about anything or anyone except myself. I could find someone to love and love them real good. I could spend my money like college doesn’t cost a thing. I could wake up in a bed next to a guy I just met—
Oh, but wait. Then I’d have to worry about whether someone would take advantage of me in my clocked-out state. I’m not sure it’d be worth it.
I guess I’ll go back to living in the hum of my hairdryer. I could hole up inside it forever, watching as the world passes by through my smudged mirror, through the locks of my hair, waiting for nothing instead of trying for something.