Day Three

I woke up this morning at 9:30. Already and hour and a half into my third day of silence. I did not want to get out of bed-- not because I was tired, but because this is only getting more and more difficult. 

Darin greeted me at my house and drove me to get a cup of coffee -- sweet man. When he asked how I was doing, I wrote this:

It's surprising how depressed I'm becoming. 

He understood. But he reminded me that this was my project, and of course, I could stop at any time. He's right. 

Being Halloween, and the day before a huge football game of the Dawgs vs. the Florida Gators, school was cancelled. I decided that today would probably be my best chance to vote. 

I grabbed a fresh notebook,  photo ID, my stack of "I'm sorry" cards, and Baudrillard's The Vital Illusion (because really, why not?) and headed over to the Classic Center where I took my place in line, and remained there for two hours. 

It's amazing, really. I had suspected prior to my starting this that a young man who shows up to place a vote and refuses to speak would be regarded as highly suspect. I had written out all kinds of explanations on my book, including (for the first time) a full disclosure of the fact that this was an art piece, that I was an artist, explaining my motives, etc. I was trying to be prepared for any kind of conflict. 

Would you believe that I stood in a line to vote, for two hours, and at no point, was even required to speak to anyone?

All the forms, the showing of IDs, the standing behind blue lines on the floor: nothing. Not one word. I read the entire Baudrillard book, saw no one I knew, voted, got a sticker, and left without speaking to anyone at all. 

As it was no about 1 o'clock, I went by a pita deli to get a sandwich. I handed over the card, wrote down my order, and gave it to the woman who was helping me. Surprisingly, she says:

"Is this temporary? I sure hope you're not sick."

I flipped back through my book and handed over the explanation of the project to her. She smiled and said,

"Now that is something I can respect. What restraint you must have."

And she proceeded to assemble my lunch. I ate it in a minute and a half-- restraint? Me? 

I found out yesterday that on top of a critique on Tuesday with my print class (which I will be having in silence- should be interesting), I'm also expected to have an expanded abstract, as well as readings for a presentation I'll be giving on the 10th in my Art History class by this coming Monday.  

I decided I better spend the day reading. 

This seemed like a good idea, as I clearly couldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't have been more wrong. Here's why:

Under normal circumstances, I'm an extremely talkative and social person. It's just part of my nature-- for quite a long time, I've always assumed I rose to the occasion in situations in which I'm around other people. It seemed easier to be friendly and talkative than not. On Friday afternoon, when I was reading in isolation at my house, I heard my internal dialogue getting louder and louder, to the point where it was almost impossible to concentrate on what was in front of me (which happened to be Kant's Critique of Judgement, certainly not the most riveting reading out there). It's becoming clearer and clearer that I am  person who has an intense need to interact with others. Not speaking has made these interaction incredibly frustrating and exhausting, so I have been putting myself into situations of isolation more than I normally would, so as not to deal with these exhaustive encounters. 

But this only furthers the problem. The need is there, and stronger, when denied. I'm going through withdrawl. I'm losing my mind. I have to get out of my house. 

In an effort to quell my anxiety, I went to where most quiet people in college go when the want to read: the Library. I was there for exactly one hour, not really faring much better, when a bell went off and informed us that the Library was closing for the day at 6pm, which is right now, and could you get out, please. 
I walked back to my truck, threw all the books inside, and drove to my studio at the Art Building, the one place I knew I really wanted to avoid. 


There wasn't a single other person there. I had checked the wrong book out from the library in the rush to leave. None of my conclusions make any sense. I still have 4 more days of not speaking after this. I'm wasting time. I haven't made any progress on anything all day. I want to cry. 
I got in my chair and tried to sleep instead, which worked, for a while anyway. 
I woke up depressed again, and decided to go and get dinner. I wanted to see someone, even if I couldn't speak to them. 


Darin was just getting off work when I walked into his restaurant. He gave me Tootsie roll. we stood outside and watched a man dressed in a bikini with an Abraham Lincoln beard walk by. I wrote this.
This is really messing with me. I don't even know how to put it into writing.
Initially, I thought this would be an empowering experience. Don't ask me why I thought that-- I don't know. But, as it turns out, everyday is harder, I feel more and more puny. Weak.
Darin asked what I did after 11 last night, if I was able to speak to anyone. I told him that when that time came, I was alone, and not being able to talk on the phone or receive phone calls, I didn't know where to go, I stayed by myself and wrote this blog. 
He brought up the notion that I should saturate myself with social contact at the end of everyday, as a remedy to what's been happening.
I told I thought that was a good idea.



He told me all my friends had just left and were next door, in costumes, at a bar. He left to go take care of the dog, I went to go meet them, with 40 minutes of not speaking left for the day. 



It sort of worked. Of course, I was now surrounded by people, none of whom I could talk to. I probably wrote over a hundred pages at the bar, trying to carry on conversations with my friends. Ordering drinks in writing. Letting other people read what I'd written. Watching someone dressed like Klaus Nomi walk down Washington Street. 


My alarm sounded, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I said hello to my friends, ordered another drink with my voice, and stayed out until 2 in the morning. Again. 
4 more to go.