Last night I bought computer speakers that don't make noise. Ok, that doesn't sound right. Maybe I should explain. I didn't really buy them. I had a store credit, and I used it. See? Makes sense now, right? Just like marriage, a little communication clears everything up.
The speakers didn't really cost me anything. That didn't stop me from spending weeks plotting the precise non-purchase decision. Right now MyUnwife is laughing at me. She knows. She's seen the epic electronics quest.
"There can be only one…"
Well, speakers are sold in pairs, but you get the idea. The fact that I didn't spend any money doesn't mean that I didn't pound and ping every speaker on the shelf. She's wandered off before, taken the sales person by the arm, "C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee. This is going to take a while. You've seen the Highlander haven't you…" Sometimes it's hard to tell if my finicky ways amused or frustrated her. Doesn't really matter now, does it? I'm just using her as a reference point: an historical sonar ping.
Everything clear now? Oh, the "buying" part wasn't the thing that bothered you? Well that's what the voices said. I can hear them again now that I have quiet speakers. Yeah, the "don't make noise" thing might be confusing. Maybe I should explain. It's not that they don't produce music, or play the computer's "don't touch me there!" sounds, it's that they don't make extra noise—extra pings, bongs, and clicks like a frantic R2 droid.
"What's that R2? Leah fell down a well? No? She's drunk again…Igniting Ewoks...watching flames dance and scream? That figures. The vodka force is bitter in that one..."
My old speakers made R2 noises. Screaming Ewok noises too. They were old. Old things do that. Check in on grandpa if you don't believe me. I've had these speakers since college. They were cheap, but they weren't shielded against modern electronics. Especially the evils of Wi-Fi and Bluetooth. The poor fellas were just trying to translate my neighbor's junk noise. They didn't know any better.
See, everybody in my neighborhood has a wireless modem. One of my neighbors allows their signal to wander in my yard. I wouldn't care, except that every night it mates with my electronics, and I'm the one responsible for dealing with the sound puppies.. They're really loud too. It doesn't matter if my speakers are on mute or on 11, the random noise bursts louder than anything I'm trying to hear.
I've replaced the speakers. There is peace in the land. I wish my divorce was that easy. This quiet is something different…but anyway: my speakers.
When I hooked them up, I tested them out. I played my Foo Fighters; they sounded most excellent. My iTunes is on random, so it danced and frolicked, song to song, skipping and jumping across my complete library, while I tuned and tweaked the speakers for optimum sound. The sound I wanted to hear: no excess chatter.
Satisfied, I stood to start dinner. iTunes jumped again. A song started: Beth Orton's "Central Reservation." There's a video in the blog archives if you want to check it out. Otherwise, take my word: it's a happy/dreamy song, kinda cool. It's electronic, but crisp. It sounded great on my speakers. So good I dropped in my chair thinking about MyUnwife. No, the song didn't really remind me of her. MyUnwife was hit and miss on Miss Orton. I think this one was one of the misses. I like her though. I liked my Mrs. too, but she was one of my misses. Beth is still here. She won't make me dinner though.
The thing is, you can ask anybody who knows me. I'm really passionate about music. It's only pop stuff, I know, but it's personal to me. I've started conversations with stranger saying, "Have you heard…" It's freaky affectation I know, it's a Rob thing. I don't know if people know this, but while I talk with them, I'm calculating what they like musically so that I can recommend bands they don't know. Remember the Terminator? Remember that scene where he's sitting in the hotel room, and the landlord comes to the door? You see what Arny sees: reply choices scrolling over a red filter. He gets to the right one and tell the landlord what he thinks. That's me, My mind sees what you like, and pulls out stuff you might also enjoy. If you stay long enough I'll share that list with you. Most people don’t. Once again, drove MyUnwife nuts…
But the point here is that I heard the Beth Orton track, and it was good. I wanted to share it, even if the share recipient only nodded and smiled. I don't know; it's who I am. For ten years I was me with extra noise, noise I didn't make, but it came from somewhere close. Sometimes it was annoying, sometimes it was just what I needed to hear. Now the noise is gone, and it's really quiet. I hear things in a new way—or the old way: from before MyUnwife. It's been too long. I hardly remember, but it's coming back. The new noise is good, and I'm learning to appreciate the silence.
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