The Singing World

I woke this morning to the sounds of planes flying overhead. They sounded like the beginning of a symphony, so powerful and clear that I determined to try to recall the notes and find them on the web. But I forgot them.
All day I've been feeling hypersensitive towards noise; it's like everything has timbre, cadence, tune or something. It's quite nice but very hard to shut out, and the stuff that doesn't sound pleasant is really hard to close down. I have the dishwasher, washing machine and aquarium filter on, and as the latter seems to have acquired a loud death-rattle, it's all a bit much.

My original thought was that this hypersensitivity was part of what I considered a synesthesial condition, but I don't actually have any such thing, because while some of my symptoms are consistent, not all are -and consistency is one of the main indicators! So instead, I'll have to be content with having a vaguely eccentric head. As we are all vaguely eccentric, there's a certain kindness in that; it makes me feel like I am not a hopeless misfit.

Noise used to drive me insane as a kind. My dad and brother loved noise. They would have a TV and a radio on in each room, and the volume was inevitably high. I couldn't work well in it, still can't. Give me a silent place for work, a chatty place for play. I monotask; it serves me well.

But right now, everything seems a little hyper. I want to turn it off.