SILENCE, PLEASE

Aging taught me that peace doesn’t just come from within — sometimes, it comes with noise-cancelling earbuds.

- CHECHE V. MORAL

There comes a point in life when your body starts betraying you. For some, it’s the knees. For others, metabolism. For me, it was my tolerance for noise.

In my 20s, noise was just part of the background, like furniture you didn’t choose but learned to live with. Jeepney horns, roosters crowing at the wrong hour, coworkers shouting across cubicles — none of it bothered me. I could even endure neighbors who believed “no occasion” was the perfect venue for a family concert at midnight. When they sang My Way off-key and at full volume, I didn’t complain — it was just part of life in a country where microphones are as common as rice cookers. Noise was constant, and I thought myself impervious.

Now? If a baby squeaks in public, I tense like someone just pulled a pin on a grenade. If two strangers strike up a cheerful conversation in a waiting room, I fantasize about chewing through the upholstery. A crowded restaurant feels less like dining out and more like punishment by auditory firing squad. And don’t get me started on those who watch YouTube videos and TikTok in public without earphones on. Aging doesn’t just sap your energy — it shreds your patience like a long-starved paper shredder that’s finally getting fed.