While I spend much of my time trying to avoid my devices and my ties to them, there are some inevitable uses that are deeply woven into my daily existence. When considering this project, I wanted to target the aspects of my phone and computer that most directly affect my lifestyle and emotional wellbeing. The answer was a no-brainer: my music. Commuting, exercising, reading, pretty much any time spent alone, I want to have access to the music on my phone or laptop. Forgetting my headphones for the day is a devastating discovery, and I will immediately buy another pair, no matter the cost, to get through the hours of time alone on the train. So, I left my headphones at home to face the sounds of the city and my own inner dialogue for the day.
Other than counting down for the day to be over, like a true addict, I noticed two significant shifts in my experience. Firstly, I felt slightly more anxious and on-edge. Listening to music is a highlight of my day, a way to experience the arts, a tool to spur positive emotions, something that colors my experience in a way I find highly valuable. I cut out something I know makes me feel more content and at ease and I felt the impact in the slight tightness of my chest and subtle knots in my stomach. Beyond the slight physical/emotional upset I found, I discovered a rich and intimate day of observation through sound. I think of myself as being visually alert almost all of the time, but my audial senses were opened, and my findings were surprising. I assumed that I would mostly be overhearing conversations of those around me, and prepared to jot them all down in my notebook, but much of what I observed were not conversations and instead music in a variety of forms (I hadn't completely given it up after all!), and the composition of the sound of objects moving around me, from the uproar of bus breaks to the faint click of an acrylic nail on a metal pole. Each observation built upon the next, some happened simultaneously, some noises repeated themselves, and in a way, linear time seemed to be suspended even as I whizzed forward on my train to my destination. I jotted down my findings in my notebook and let myself ease into a sensory world that I most often am drowning out.
Other than counting down for the day to be over, like a true addict, I noticed two significant shifts in my experience. Firstly, I felt slightly more anxious and on-edge. Listening to music is a highlight of my day, a way to experience the arts, a tool to spur positive emotions, something that colors my experience in a way I find highly valuable. I cut out something I know makes me feel more content and at ease and I felt the impact in the slight tightness of my chest and subtle knots in my stomach. Beyond the slight physical/emotional upset I found, I discovered a rich and intimate day of observation through sound. I think of myself as being visually alert almost all of the time, but my audial senses were opened, and my findings were surprising. I assumed that I would mostly be overhearing conversations of those around me, and prepared to jot them all down in my notebook, but much of what I observed were not conversations and instead music in a variety of forms (I hadn't completely given it up after all!), and the composition of the sound of objects moving around me, from the uproar of bus breaks to the faint click of an acrylic nail on a metal pole. Each observation built upon the next, some happened simultaneously, some noises repeated themselves, and in a way, linear time seemed to be suspended even as I whizzed forward on my train to my destination. I jotted down my findings in my notebook and let myself ease into a sensory world that I most often am drowning out.
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