Silence is Golden

By nature I'm not a very loud person. My voice is low and I often have to repeat myself due to its deep register and my California slur. Or, more often, I'm simply ignored because no one heard me. The only moments I find myself making a ruckus is when I'm laughing, which I dearly love to do.

But it wasn't until I went to college and began observing the raucous behavior of roommates and fellow students that I realized my own quiet nature.

The most frequent occurrences of raucousness involved people being inconsiderate. Take, for example, the Liberty Square parking lot instance.

It was a warm Summer's evening of 2009 and Brooke McEwen and I were fast asleep in our shared room at Liberty Square. I was dreaming of life aboard the Enterprise when the peaceful evening was shattered by a sudden booming and obnoxious song being blasted just below our window. The music (if you want to call it that) was being accompanied by multiple voices raised in hilarity and utter disregard for the sleeping occupants in the apartments around them.

Brooke rolled over and peered out the window that shouldered her bed. "Some people are playing music from their car." She reported sleepily.

I glanced at my clock. It was 2am.

Hell no.

"Would you mind if I leaned across you to shout at 'em?"
Brooke paused. "Yes."

Alright, fine. The alternative would probably be more effective anyhow.

I slid out of bed and stomped down the stairs to our front door that led to the parking lot. I threw the door open without hesitation and oh Allah, I can only imagine what those people thought as a frumpy wild-haired fiery-eyed girl in skimpy pajamas snarled, "HEY! Would you turn that SHIT down?!"

I slammed the door for effect and marched back up the stairs to my room. The music stopped abruptly just as I slid back into bed. "You're welcome," I muttered to Brooke, who was probably mortified.


Speaking of doors slamming.

My past and current roommates are awfully fond of it. Whether it be the front door, their bedroom door, the microwave door, or even the lid on the toilet; If it can be opened and shut, it must needs be slammed. My door-slamming roommates also tend to crank the volume on the television, speak in a loud voice, and exhibit obnoxious behavior in general.

And, so far, they all have one thing in common; they come from large families.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with large families, but the behavior children are forced to exhibit in order to get attention often lead to selfish and inconsiderate adulthood traits.

I myself come from an average-sized family; two parents, three kids. My parents may disagree but I think we were a fairly quiet family. Unfortunately, growing up in a household that was so quiet at night has lead to me being a light sleeper. My roommates, on the other hand, can sleep through anything. So I think this explains their tendency to stomp around the apartment, slam doors, and blast the television. That doesn't excuse their actions though. Just because someone can't be empathetic doesn't mean they shouldn't be sympathetic.

So it goes without saying that solitude and privacy are the two things I covet the most. I've wanted to live alone for some time now. In fact, I was seriously considering moving into an apartment of my own beginning Fall semester '11 but was financially unfit. Even as I'm typing this, listening to my roommate's awful country music wailing from her bedroom, I'm longing for a place of my own.

I can certainly identify with Eugene's dream from Tangled:

"I have dreams like you, no really!
Just much less touchy-feely
They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny
On an island that I own
Tanned and rested and alone
Surrounded by enormous piles of moneeeeey!"

My sister is the most adamant about me not living alone. For some reason she seems to think it's a 100% guarantee of getting raped. I honestly feel sorry for the dude that tries to break into my abode. I may not have a gun, but I've got plenty of stuff to improvise with and I know how to improvise.

And I know I'm gonna get married someday but with my luck he'll be deaf and have to blast music so he can feel the vibrations through the speakers. Bless him. I guess that's what I'll get for being a crotchety old hag.