I have super cat-like hearing, which forces me to clutch my ears like a crazy person every time a firetruck/streetcar/police car squeals by, and to shush conversations sporadically when I think I've heard...something.
This leaves me, in some way, permanently on edge. Repetitive noises are especially maddening. Resulting in much rage.
Mmmm, passive aggressive rage.
|No. More. Squeaking.|
My office is conveniently nestled between an audio mixing suite that specializes in children's cartoons, and the office of a composer for television & commercials. Neither of these fine gentlemen have soundproofing. Neither of these fine fellows like to close their doors. Neither of these wonderful, upstanding, exquisite examples of humankind seem to have a speaker that goes below MIND SHATTERINGLY LOUD.
On any given day I can enjoy the 1sec repeating sound byte of a fake cat meow, or the 10sec clip of looped musical score (once he did a circus show so it was a week of repeating slide whistle! Boy-o-boy!) at wall-shaking volume.
...But I know something they don't knowwww...!
While I was hostel-ing my way across Europe and sharing small spaces with annoying, inconsiderate, LOUD LOUD LOUD people, I encountered an interesting phenomenon... When the noise input reaches the point of insanity, my brain flips a switch. Suddenly the overwhelming noise creates a nodal point of silence.
I like to think of it like my primary auditory cortex is having a tiny little stroke...I also like to picture it as Charlie Day:
My Primary Auditory Cortex.
Witness, THE BIRD.
It's so loud, and grimy sounding that it shatters my brain...and so, I shamelessly turn my speakers, and press them up against the wall...then set the dial to eleven.
Gentlemen? Check and mate.
As soon as they have built up a tolerance I will be switching to this: