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“Silence is naked”

June 25, 2010

I slept over in my friends’ dorm one night in college — that’s how this story starts, obviously. Well, I slept in their dorm frequently throughout college, but the story I’m about to tell happened on one particular night when I slept over …

I get nervous sometimes — okay? And on this night in particular, I got really nervous. I won’t go into the details about why and whatnot, but I was a wreck. On that night, I discovered that, when I am nervous, I tend to talk … ALOT. I hardly remember that night as I was in such a nervous delirium, I might as well have been black-out drunk. (But I wasn’t, let’s just keep that one straight …)

It appears that one of my friends had been writing down the things I said that night, because a few days ago, she sent me an e-mail entitled, “Quotes from the night Emilia wouldn’t shut up.”

I was in utter shock. Not only was I completely baffled by some of the things I said, but I was bewildered by the fact that I didn’t remember saying any of it!

And then, coolness struck. As I was wading through the mindless bullshit that foamed from my mouth that night, I came across one sentence in particular that wiggled its way from the gaping mess that was my mouth.

It was, “Silence is naked.”

Yeah, yeah, it sounds dumb, and I probably — actually definitely — said it mindlessly in a babbling flow of ridiculousness that means absolutely nothing and is ultimately pointless — but, in a clear state of mind, that sentence really strikes a chord with me.

When you think about it, silence really is naked — metaphorically of course. Just imagine what silence would look like if it was an animate object — would it be wearing stillettoes, a leopard print skirt and a hot-pink boa?

No. It wouldn’t.

And if it wasn’t naked, it would probably be wearing off-white, Anne Klein slacks with a white turtle-neck sweater and dark-brown loafers. Right?

If silence was a person, who would it be? It sure as hell wouldn’t be the kid that raises his hand in the middle of class to ask to go to the bathroom — right? It would be the kid that suffers through that whole 90 minutes, then runs to the bathroom and still gives his spot on the can to the kid behind him because, hey, he needs to go too!

And once I’ve thought about all of that, it is, of course, my natural course of action to apply this sentence to my life in particular.

There are many people who enjoy standing naked in front of a bunch of people. Well, maybe not many, but there are people like that in the world, and I’m not one of them. And now that I associate silence with nudity, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to speak up when I feel like it! If given the choice between mannered restraint and obscene passion — do I really even have a choice? I think I’m going to have to yell! In my life, I don’t have a choice, because I refuse to be that kid who waits 90 minutes and then some to hit the can. And, hell, I’m not even going to bother to discuss why I’m never going to be shopping at Anne Klein.

So, here’s to a life of sound, action, passion, discussion and really, really hot clothes.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. emiliab9291 permalink*
    June 25, 2010 2:08 pm

    I love this post. But, frankly, I’m not sure about the dark brown loafers. I think silence would be wearing beige ballet slippers….

  2. Jesse Swedlund permalink
    July 6, 2010 2:13 am

    Love this. Just remember that while silence is naked, nakedness is not silence, but is in and of itself an obscene passion.

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