When I can't sleep at night, I like to listen to music. Silence is serene at three o'clock in the morning, but it's awfully lonely. I know there's nothing original or creative about it. It's not as if I'm folding origami cranes or inventing new quiche recipes, but it's something I do... not to help me fall asleep, necessarily, but it's something I don't have to think about.
I rarely listen to CDs, however; I like the radio. I like not knowing what's coming next, and knowing that I can reach over and change it if I feel like it. I even have the power to turn it off, if so inclined.
Why I like the radio most is really very simple. It's alive. Even if there is no DJ in the wee hours of the morning, I know a human hand pushed that button and programmed that music to keep it going all night long. I know that there is another sleepless person out there who is listening to the same song and being comforted, perhaps lulled to sleep. CDs are nice, but they're cold... they don't consider you. They just stop at will, or skip, or just repeat themselves the entire night.
The radio is variety; the radio never sleeps.
Hidden tracks on CDs also present an unforeseen problem. Once late at night, Cole was listening to a New Found Glory CD. He fell asleep to it, as he often does (he listens until he falls asleep, I read until I fall asleep). At one A.M., he was awakened by a soft, ghostly voice in his ear, whispering to him.
"Someone's in your house. This is not just a CD. It has taken over your brain. Someone's in your house. Do you think you're safe right now? Someone's in your house."
He was so scared he couldn't even move... until he realized it was a hidden track. He had me listen to it the next morning, and I nearly cried.
I will stick with my radio forever. My radio doesn't mess with my brain.