ON BEING DISTURBED.

All I wanted to do was write some simple thoughts down, send them out in an email and the job would be done. “Let Nothing Disturb.” Hmm. this often seemed like a cute joke; since, oftentimes things do disturb.

While using the computer at the Harold Washington Psychiatric Center, a.k.a. the library, amidst composing my thoughts, that had been with me all weekend, some written down and others in my head, that’s when the grunting, the bag smashing, the soda slurping and the mumblers, the arguments and the cacophonic chorus of loud talkers and candy-breaking-in-mouth began. My hearing had become…