Hello it's me, I'm not at home, if you'd like to reach me, leave me alone...
I love that line of the Sheryle Crowe song "A Change Would Do You Good." I often times feel like putting that as the outgoing message on my answering machine.
It's long been common knowledge among family and friends alike that I despise telephones. I don't mind talking to friends and family if I've something to say or if they have a desperate need to unburden themselves but I don't, as a rule, like phones. I would happily live without one if I didn't think I might someday have to call 911 to come save my butt from a random accident. Or, you know, if Heaven forbid something terrible should happen to a loved one and I need to get to the hospital ASAP
But phones for phones' sake just aren't top on my list of preferred communications. I love letters. Handwritten. E-mail. It's all good. My attention span is wide open to reading letters. My attention span for listening, however...not so much. And my brain doesn't think fast enough to instantly reply to someone I'm not looking at. I know it sounds silly, but it's the honest truth. I'm just wierd that way.
I can write a 356 page dissertation on nothing in particular but put me on a phone and I'm a blithering idiot. Or plunk me down face to face with ya and you might get the same results. But you know what? When pressed I can make the most of a phone conversation. I can call my sister and we can giggle and carry on for two hours before we realize it.
I think what really bothers me about phones is the intrusion they represent. I don't like calling people because I'm always afraid I'm going to interrupt them while they are doing something they've wanted to do for ages and never had the time to do it until the precise moment I call and then I interrupt them and they never get to do whatever it was they wanted so badly to do. It's also the same reason why I usually hate receiving phone calls. It never fails that the minute I sit down to watch The 4400 or Big Brother 6 someone's usually going to call. My best friend. My other sister. If I'm really unlucky a very persistant charity wanting money from my empty pockets.
Last night, for instance, I sat down with a cup of coffee and a tasty snack, had my pillows fluffed up behind me on the couch and had settled in to watch The 4400. Halfway through, the phone rang. I knew it was either the bf, the sister or the charity collector and the thought crossed my mind to just let the machine pick up. I even let the dang thing ring three times. But as much as I can't stand the phone, if I'm there, I just can't let the machine pick it up. It feels wrong, somehow. Sure enough, I answered and it was my best friend. She didn't want anything other than to fill up the time until she went to bed. I, however, was forced to hit record on the VCR to tape what I was missing of the 4400 so that I could mininmalize the distraction as well as to not miss anything important then go back and watch it once she's decided she's ready to go to bed.
Now, I don't claim to be one of those intellecutal types who's TV gathers dust from lack of use. If my TV's dusty it's only because I've been too lazy to get the swiffer out and dust. But neither am I one to incessantly watch TV. I have maybe a handful of must-see shows. So why then, is it, that if someone feels the urge to call me they always managed to do so when I'm watching something I don't want to miss? And IS it rude and unforgivable to screen my calls during my few must-see TV hours? Yeah, probably. Does this make me shallow. Sure. Do I care? Not really.
I miss the days of letter writing. Letters I could read at leisure. If I didn't understand something, I didn't have to bother anyone to repeat it, I could simply re-read it until I had a grasp on it. I first learned that my best friend was pregant in a letter. Back then we were seniors in high school and her long distance phone usuage was limited. All the important news was given letters...tons and tons of letters all of which I still have. I can go back and read them whenever I want to and remember what I felt like the first time I read it. Where do phone coversations go when you hang up? They end up in blogs in the context of how much I dislike phones.
It's long been common knowledge among family and friends alike that I despise telephones. I don't mind talking to friends and family if I've something to say or if they have a desperate need to unburden themselves but I don't, as a rule, like phones. I would happily live without one if I didn't think I might someday have to call 911 to come save my butt from a random accident. Or, you know, if Heaven forbid something terrible should happen to a loved one and I need to get to the hospital ASAP
But phones for phones' sake just aren't top on my list of preferred communications. I love letters. Handwritten. E-mail. It's all good. My attention span is wide open to reading letters. My attention span for listening, however...not so much. And my brain doesn't think fast enough to instantly reply to someone I'm not looking at. I know it sounds silly, but it's the honest truth. I'm just wierd that way.
I can write a 356 page dissertation on nothing in particular but put me on a phone and I'm a blithering idiot. Or plunk me down face to face with ya and you might get the same results. But you know what? When pressed I can make the most of a phone conversation. I can call my sister and we can giggle and carry on for two hours before we realize it.
I think what really bothers me about phones is the intrusion they represent. I don't like calling people because I'm always afraid I'm going to interrupt them while they are doing something they've wanted to do for ages and never had the time to do it until the precise moment I call and then I interrupt them and they never get to do whatever it was they wanted so badly to do. It's also the same reason why I usually hate receiving phone calls. It never fails that the minute I sit down to watch The 4400 or Big Brother 6 someone's usually going to call. My best friend. My other sister. If I'm really unlucky a very persistant charity wanting money from my empty pockets.
Last night, for instance, I sat down with a cup of coffee and a tasty snack, had my pillows fluffed up behind me on the couch and had settled in to watch The 4400. Halfway through, the phone rang. I knew it was either the bf, the sister or the charity collector and the thought crossed my mind to just let the machine pick up. I even let the dang thing ring three times. But as much as I can't stand the phone, if I'm there, I just can't let the machine pick it up. It feels wrong, somehow. Sure enough, I answered and it was my best friend. She didn't want anything other than to fill up the time until she went to bed. I, however, was forced to hit record on the VCR to tape what I was missing of the 4400 so that I could mininmalize the distraction as well as to not miss anything important then go back and watch it once she's decided she's ready to go to bed.
Now, I don't claim to be one of those intellecutal types who's TV gathers dust from lack of use. If my TV's dusty it's only because I've been too lazy to get the swiffer out and dust. But neither am I one to incessantly watch TV. I have maybe a handful of must-see shows. So why then, is it, that if someone feels the urge to call me they always managed to do so when I'm watching something I don't want to miss? And IS it rude and unforgivable to screen my calls during my few must-see TV hours? Yeah, probably. Does this make me shallow. Sure. Do I care? Not really.
I miss the days of letter writing. Letters I could read at leisure. If I didn't understand something, I didn't have to bother anyone to repeat it, I could simply re-read it until I had a grasp on it. I first learned that my best friend was pregant in a letter. Back then we were seniors in high school and her long distance phone usuage was limited. All the important news was given letters...tons and tons of letters all of which I still have. I can go back and read them whenever I want to and remember what I felt like the first time I read it. Where do phone coversations go when you hang up? They end up in blogs in the context of how much I dislike phones.
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