Do you prefer silence or noise? Why?

In my twenties, I was like Jordan. Silence unnerved me. I sought noise. I made noise. I was loud. Sunday nights, when it was deadly quiet as I was working on my PhD, I would put on the community radio Metal show, because I couldn’t deal without noise. (And not because I had any idea what constituted good Metal.) When I moved to the States, I’d spent late nights at Denny’s, so I wouldn’t be alone in the quiet. Music constantly. TV as a comforting buzz in the background.

In my forties, I’ve turned into McKayla. I feel refreshed if I spend a couple of hours staying back at work, with just stillness and quiet and nothing around me. Background music makes me antsy. I rejoiced at the ongoing buzz of Greektown, till 1 AM, when I moved here; seven years on, I stay the hell away from it. I feel at my most euphoric if I’m walking home late at night, in absolute stillness. I don’t particularly seek out music much any more.

Oddly, my neurological situation these days is probably closer to Jordan’s than McKayla’s (something I’ll post about… maybe later). So I’m not sure what the explanation is. But it really is recent; last 3–4 years.