Silence is the loudest sound on earth, I'm convinced. Nothing can give me a worse headache than complete, utter silence. That's why God made iPods. Of course, I'm with classmates. I feel so safe with them, so comfortable. These classmates I've known for long enough that I won't feel judged by them.
Maybe it's the hunger or the chemicals in the dark room, but I'm inebriated enough to sing in front of them, and I do it. I sing along with my iPod because it's just us in the lab. Fall Out Boy, Cobra Starship, Cute Is What We Aim For, Plain White T's. I sing with them (I would sing along with Gym Class Heroes, but I'm too white to rap properly).
This guy walks in and I'm still singing and he turns the radio on. Drowning me out? I guess. Maybe he just doesn't like my taste in music. Maybe he's just trying to emit that artsy persona that snooty artists like to exude to make their penises somehow grow (or ovaries, respectively). Let's face it, that's the only reason people play the college radio station...
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