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If you watched any of the World Cup soccer then you know what it’s like to be inside my head. It’s relatively entertaining, sometimes even exciting, occasionally boring, but there’s always something being kicked around.

There’s also that non-stop noise.

That’s right. I have vuvuzelas in my head.

For those who have no interest in sports, vuvuzelas are plastic horns that are blown non-stop by soccer fans in South Africa. They’re loud and, some would say, disturbing to the game. I didn’t really think so.

Throughout the tournament, broadcasters were challenged to compete with what sounded like an angry swarm of bees. In the first few weeks, they caused quite the buzz – both literally and figuratively – getting more attention at times than even some of the players.

There were calls to ban the horns from stadiums. Teams complained they disrupted communication and made it difficult to concentrate.

Well, yeah. Just like the noise in my head.

It’s that running commentary of negative thoughts that I just can’t turn off.

It sounds something like this:

‘Why are you writing about vuvuzelas when the World Cup is already over?’
‘Why are you blogging when you are supposed to be working on your book?’
‘Nobody is going to read your book anyway.’
‘Nobody is going to read this post if it’s not about The Sheriff.’
‘These examples stink. You need to come up with better ones.’
‘Ones? Who says ones???’
‘You need a shower.’

Actually, there are quite a few curse words thrown in there but I try not to curse on my blog.

‘Why not? What are you afraid of? Being judged?’
‘Penelope Trunk curses!’,
‘Curse you idiot!’

Do you have vuvuzelas in your head? Don’t they blow? (kind of a curse…)

I’m thinking that most people do have vuvus in their head but some people are able to tune them out. Maybe they have a psychological mute button. I don’t want to hit the mute button because then I can’t hear the good stuff.

So, what I learned from the World Cup is to just accept the noise as part of the game.

After a while, I didn’t really mind the background buzz of the televised games and actually came to find it comforting. It let me know I was on the right station, and I hadn’t just stumbled upon some random match. The horns were steady, predictable and, eventually, easy to ignore when I wasn’t actually listening for them.

Turns out, the same is true for the vuvuzelas in my head.

I’ve come to accept the ‘noise’ as part of the game. A buzz in the background. Steady, predictable, and getting easier to ignore.

I still hear them. I just don’t listen to them.

Much.

Now I’ll go take a shower.



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