Recently, I attended an economic forum in nearby Colorado Springs and found myself singing John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High" at the top of my head. Or I should say, in my head; earworms can be a dastardly business to deal with and so it was true that the earworm had bored its way into the economic forum. Mr. Denver's songs were not something the speaker mentioned but it was going full-blast between my ears. All that was missing was a subwoofer, a guitar, and an amp.
At the seminar, a dark-haired man with an impeccable talking smile was speaking; the spectacles atop his nose glared from the lights above, and in the audience, I sat quietly trying to read his lips, teeth, and face. Sometimes, I can understand public speakers, especially those who talk fairly normally and don't use too many bombastic moments to convey their points or messages. But when speakers have glasses and teeth reflecting light, I cannot see their eyes and this makes for speechreading difficulties, and in my desperate search for a meaningful word to recognize, I may, as one example, discover the speaker is talking about numbers, which he did at the beginning of his lecture.
"Seven years ago," he began. So far, so good. And then I missed what else he was saying when I made that mental notation. No so good now, is it? And without warning, Mr. Denver blasted, "He was born in the summer of his 27th year/Coming home to a place he'd never been before." I shook my head. This was not what the speaker was talking about, but the earworm insisted, "He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again/You might say he found a key for every door."
I knew from experience that chewing gum or eating food is a great way to eliminate earworms. But I had no food or gum at the economic forum, and so Mr. Denver continued strumming his guitar. I tried to focus and shifted my eyes back to the speaker's teeth as he continued. "Inflation robs people of their earning power," I think he said. And then Mr. Denver corrected me, "Now he walks in quiet solitude the forest and the streams/Seeking grace in every step he takes." All I can do is sigh. The lecture went on for nearly two full hours, totally accompanied by the always-repeating earworms of Mr. Denver's many songs. When the speaker concluded his lecture, everybody stood up and applauded, including Tina, myself and Mr. Denver, and nobody seemed to notice the dueling dilemma I faced that afternoon. I was still able to learn the major points of the lecture after Tina informed me at various points during and after the lecture.
For some people, tinnitus can be a terrifically debilitating condition; for others, the constant noise and ringing can literally drive them crazy. Earworms ain't the same thing or in the same league. And yet, somehow, by good fortune, grace, and a little happy-go-lucky ignorance on my part, in other words, without meaning to, I was able to turn most of the tinnitus into earworms of songs I heard when I was a kid, from bands and singers such as Kenny Rogers, John Denver, KISS, Debbie Boone, Quiet Riot, Def Leppard, and once every blue moon, Twisted Sister.
In this vein, I feel quite lucky in the fact the tinnitus is usually not a problem for me. If and when I have had problems with the tinnitus, it has usually been a warning sign of another problem as happened last year when I complained my eyes were bothering me due to the tinnitus as the ringing can become a runaway noise with no ability to stop it. This can and has impacted my ability to see (imagine hearing a noise so loud you have to shut your eyes.) And then the ambulance came and so on. I was fine. So, life with permanent earworms can actually be pretty interesting. I mean, some deaf people such as myself never live in permanent silence even though it seems like we do.
"We're right (yeah)
We're free (yeah)
We'll fight (yeah)
You'll see (yeah)
Oh we're not gonna take it
No, we ain't gonna take it
Oh we're not gonna take it anymore!"
Please excuse me for the digression. I think Twisted Sister and I will head to the gym now.
See ya!
