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My Silence
I”™m getting over a terrible head cold and literally have no voice at all. That is not hyperbole. I have no sound. The timing is ill as I had a location meeting with the property master Sunday that had to be postponed since I couldn”™t communicate. I can”™t take phone calls. I can”™t talk to anyone who is not immediately in front of me. I sucked it up and flew back, anyway. I”™ll be on vocal rest for at least four more days.
I haven”™t been on vocal rest for a long time and the last time I was, it was short. I also cheated. I used to have a problem with losing my voice from sports (yelling from the outfield, yelling from downfield, yelling at the ref”¦) so my singing coach cracked the whip and put me on vocal lock down. I learned to breathe properly, drink a lot of water and haven”™t lost my voice since, until now.
In addition there is, of course, the hilariousness of someone like me losing my voice. I am like a flood, a fast river with rapids... a rush of strong wind: There is no stopping the conversation.
I have quickly learned who can read my lips and expressions, and who cannot. Interestingly, this skill has not much to do with who knows me best. My friend KayBee, really good; my roommate, surprisingly good; C.Sto, so-so; my mother, terrible; customer-service girl at Barnes & Noble, the fastest of all.
Recently I had a shoot wherein I had to work with a masked character. The actor tends to be low-key and quiet in real life, and it was maddening: What was he thinking under there? There was no audio or visual response to anything I was saying. I quieted. My friends and family were like this. Finally! They had license to talk without my excited interruptions! ”¦But they weren”™t getting feedback, and all I got was companionable silence.
My last night in VA, I furiously typed out the antics of the previous night to C.Sto via the computer, filling her in as much as I could, as she stood over my shoulder firing off follow-up questions. Luckily I have a vicious WPM. But you cannot carry a laptop everywhere.
Next time that you fly, try not talking for the duration of your trip. Don”™t cheat. I dare you. Order your complicated drink at the Starbucks, try to take a cab or indicate that you are sorry for having knocked into someone”¦ See how fast you can scribble on a notepad. Best of all, watch the reactions when you gesture toward the general area of your neck to indicate that you cannot speak. The majority of people will immediately assume that you are deaf and apologize. Except the guy at the taxi stand who, after you pass him a note saying that you cannot speak and therefore need a driver who can read English, says rather bluntly, “Can you hear?”¯ I nod yes, and he is one of few that, because he asked, does not suddenly shift into talking-with-a-deaf-person”¯ mode. Options for this technique are, apparently:
- Talking loudly, you know, because that helps deaf people to hear you.
- Slowly, over-gesturing while mouthing words and/or whispering strangely.
- Taking my notepad so that they can write back to me, which is incredibly frustrating.
You learn who is listening because, without missing a beat, they realize that you can hear perfectly and continue to talk to you and watch you for your response. They converse. They don”™t jump to conclusions on what you are trying to communicate. They must have noticed that you answered them before, a reaction to sounds, so clearly yours is solely a vocal issue. They are natural and don”™t respond in a weird way, such as the person who knows you and knows that you can hear and must have just lost your voice, yet begins whispering and gesturing back to you as if they”™ve suddenly lost theirs; sort of like how my Dad picks up the accent of the Chinese food delivery man during their brief exchange.
All of these understandings happen in an instant.
I am walking through a universe of sounds and am unable to contribute.
Best of all, I finally reach the Gulch Starbucks. "Jess, haven't seen you in a while!" I gesture that I cannot speak, the cashier just hands me over his Sharpie, catching me up. I grab a cup and write my own order.
And appreciate how good it is to be familiar.
My silence is a world inside of a world.
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