LOUD NEIGHBORS
Journal Entry
THOUGHTS™️
01–15–2022
︎ Writer: Stew Caldo
Saturday morning.
I’m sitting outside [REDACTED], distracted by how many people are around me. I wish I would have gone to a park or something – but I also wish it was summer so that made sense. I miss summer. I miss the warmth of each day, and being able to go outside without feeling like I’m fighting against nature. I miss sitting in the dry grass. I miss drinking wine in the park. I miss the sun setting late in the night, giving time to enjoy each sunset a bit tipsier than a normal winter night.
I miss rushing down the I-10 to meet a friend to surf. Watching the sun go down past the horizon and the sky turning a multitude of colors – none of which are blue. None of which are cold.
I’ve been a bit negative lately, and it’s affecting my daily outlook for life. It’s not me, I blame the winter. Now isn’t that a perfect example of the said “negativity”.
The thing bothering me most right now is my neighbors. I typically have loved my building, but I believe someone near to my home is learning how to DJ. The first instance - well now that I’m writing it out I’m realizing I’m being a bit dramatic. But the first instance was Thursday night. I had gotten home from some activity - dinner with friends I think. I want to come back to that thought. I had gone out to dinner with the British friends, really cute night. As soon as I exited the elevator I could hear a deep house bass thumping throughout the walls. There’s something so intrusive about house music when it’s not playing in your own. The thud of the bass just feels like a drug inducing panic attack. But, of course, when it’s your own party there’s something beautiful hypnotic about the tempo and lack of words.
As soon as I arrived at my door, I was hit with a wave of anxiety. My biggest fear is having to ruin a neighbors fun and go ask them to keep quiet. My other greatest fear is missing sleep by circumstances out of my control. Funny how that paradox works. I was already dreading the thought of having to soberly confront a neighbor just enjoying their life – but, at the same time, I was furious with the excitement of telling someone off for disrespecting me in some way they wouldn’t understand.
After 10 minutes of getting ready for bed, I purposefully walked out into the hallway ready to tell my next door neighbor to turn it down in a surprisingly passive way – but it wasn’t my next door neighbor. After a few hallway searches, I learned that the music was coming from the opposite side of the building entirely. I was burning with rage. The fact that I could hear this all the way from my apartment. The fact that it was this loud and no other neighbors had said anything about it. The fact that this responsibility was mine to bear.
Just before knocking, [REDACTED] peeked his head out to hear the music and met my gaze. He laughed and said, “Oh shit, that’s loud. I can’t hear shit in here though”. In shock, I stepped into his apartment to see his noise-proofed door he insulated recently. My savior then lent me the rest of his supplies to do the same to my door. Fast-forward 10 minutes later, and I’m angrily sitting criss-cross insulating my door at 12:05AM.
And then, the music just stopped. Maybe the neighbor had seen my bitchy text in the group chat. Maybe they’d heard me talking shit in the hallway (Doubt it). Whatever the case may be, the music stopped.
But the anxiety continued. Beyond that day (I took a [REDACTED]), but into the next as well. I found myself fearing the music around 10AM the next day. Scared of missing sleep. Terrified of ruining somebody’s fun. Horrified by the idea of awkward neighbor conflict.
The reason to journal this experience escapes my mind – but I am realizing a takeaway. Why the fuck am I afraid of the music. Why the fuck is the music giving me anxiety throughout an entire day. Say that out loud. You’re afraid of the possibility of loud music playing at 12:05AM that may lead to you asking someone to turn it down. Why does my mind choose to spiral over such minimal things. I never used to have anxiety. I never used to be afraid of anything. I shouldn’t say anything – the truth is, it’s nothing. I’m afraid of nothing. That’s what anxiety is. Fear of nothing. Fear of something that has yet to exist. The fear of nothing becoming something. It really is childlike when you write it out like that.
[REDACTED].
Why the fuck am I drinking a matcha latte journaling about anxiety. I am in a weird fucking stage of life right now.