Life Aquatic

So far, hearing loss has not been as bad as I might have thought. After one week of not being able to hear out of my left ear, I am still fascinated by its effect on how I experience my world. Everything now sounds as if I’m underwater- muddled, yet somehow melodic, harsh consonants sanded down into indistinct murmurs. While I do have to put a lot more effort into conversations, I appreciate my hearing loss most in public places- airports, trains, restaurants. I float serenely through seas of noise, insulated in a thick, cushioned bubble that gently muffles screaming kids, cell phone ringtones, and public announcements. It’s like having a soft focus camera filter for my ears; the world sounds prettier when I’m not subjected to its ridiculous chatter.

Surprisingly, I myself have become quieter, as if hearing less noise nudges me to contribute less noise to the world. Prior to this experience, I was dismissive of people who complained about everyday noises being overstimulating and annoying. I’ve always been a big fan of noise, loving both the Las Vegas Strip and the roaring ocean because both generate so much thundering noise that I feel cocooned in an exhilarating way. I like being loud, and loud places allow me to make as much noise as I want to without being shushed. Quiet places make me nervous, unsettled; they are voids that I want to fill with noise. This week I’ve learned to be more comfortable with less noise, though I think I’d still shy away from absolutely quiet places; they give me heebie jeebies.

I suspect I’ll be hearing through both ears again soon. I don’t know what caused my left ear to stuff up, and for some reason this leads me to believe that one morning I will wake up, able to hear fully again. But until then, if you need to tell me something, use lots of hand gestures.