Inspiration Words: Overhear and Acoustic
My primary skill in life is overhearing things. I don’t talk much, but I listen plenty, and when I listen, I hear lots of interesting things. One of the first conversations I remember overhearing was between my parents. I was in my bedroom when they started arguing. I had been playing with my doll, imagining a conversation between us, but I put it down to listen to what my parents said. One of them wanted to eat at 5:30 p.m., and the other one insisted that 6 p.m. was just as good for eating dinner.
I looked at the clock by my bed: 6:05 p.m. I had already opened the door so I could hear the discussion clearly, and at first, I just stood there, expecting them to conclude that maybe the conversation could be finished after dinner. After two hours and a lot of tearful accusations, I sneaked into the kitchen, filled my plate with cold food, and took it back to my bedroom. I don’t think my parents ate that night.
My dad moved to Beijing when I was in primary school, so I usually stay with my mom here in Guangzhou (gwohng joh). Now that I’m in college, I go to visit her several times a month. She doesn’t talk as much as she used to, but I sometimes wonder if that’s because I don’t argue with her. We keep our conversations pretty basic. Dad comes back to visit sometimes, but I try to be busy those evenings. I’ve overheard enough arguments to be something of an expert on how they will end: with slammed doors.
Sometimes when I go to the mall, I overhear interesting conversations. Moms scold their kids; Grandmas chat about the weather or their most recent mahjong match. Boyfriends and girlfriends giggle about things, although those conversations tend to be too quiet for even me to overhear, so I’m never quite sure what they’re giggling about.
My favorite conversations include foreigners. There are quite a few foreigners in Guangzhou, and I like to listen to things they say in order to practice my English. Sometimes I put in my headphones, and don’t turn anything on so people won’t bother me, but I can still listen to conversations around me.
One time, a little foreign boy with blonde hair and a round face pointed at an old Chinese man and said, “Mommy, look at the huge mole on that man’s face. It’s so black and has hairs coming out of it!” His mom tried to shush him, and her face turned quite red.
My roommates here at college call me Novel, (xiao shuo, ssee-ow shwoh), because although xiao shuo means “Novel” in Chinese, the characters also literally translate to “Little Speak.” They joke that one day, maybe I will put all my thoughts into a novel—then everyone will finally know what I’m thinking. Maybe I will one day, or maybe that’s what this is.
It’s not that I don’t like to talk; I think I’ve just decided that the things I have to say won’t be appreciated by people who hear me. Maybe, deep down, I’m also a little afraid nobody will want to listen to what I have to say. It’s easy to just keep my talking down to a minimum. Thinking is more interesting anyway.
I think sometimes my roommates forget I’m there and start talking about things that would make some people feel uncomfortable. But I’ve decided that I don’t care. If they want to talk to their boyfriends about all manner of things while someone else is in the room, at least it provides an interesting soundtrack for my homework.
In the first week of class, I learned two things. First, I learned that the bathroom has great acoustics. Second, I learned that my roommate, Xiao Liu (ssee-ow lee-oo) really likes to sing in the shower. She’s normally a little bit shy, but when she’s in the shower, it’s like she becomes another person, belting out Adele at the top of her lungs. I find it particularly ironic when she sings, “Hello from the other side,” and in my mind, I answer her, “Yes, hello from outside of the bathroom, your personal concert stage.”
After a life of few words, I have become fairly comfortable with myself and my habits. But yesterday, when I was lying on my bed, trying to doze during the hottest part of the afternoon, I realized not everyone was as comfortable with my habits as I was.
“It’s just that she’s so quiet,” Duo Duo (dwoh dwoh) didn’t exactly whisper to Xiao Lu.
I forgot about dozing and tuned in. Didn’t they realize that just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m deaf? Oh well, it sounded like they were talking about me, and I wanted to know what they said.
“I’m quiet, too, around people I don’t know.” Xiao Lu answered in a lower voice.
“But I don’t think I’ve heard her say three full sentences together. Doesn’t that seem . . . I don’t know . . . a little . . . strange?”
By the end of the conversation, I felt like both girls agreed I was “strange.”
Great. Here I am, just trying to enjoy college and live my life, and now I’m strange. So, I’ll do what I always do when people think I’m strange. I just stay quiet. Maybe if I stay quiet, then they will stop bothering me. If it works with my parents, maybe it will work with my roommates too.