don't call me
I jus realized recently that I have a deep aversion to talking on the phone.

I think it stems from my four years in long distance relationships where maintenance came primarily from phone conversations. At first, I had a sort of juvenile fascination with the emotive capabilities of talking on the phone... compared to chat, I suppose they're far superior (though I almost would say differently now, it really depends on the capability of one to express themselves in writing). BUT, as these things go, the phone fascination just kind of petered out and left me entertaining annoying silences and feeling like I was spending time on the phone while I could be doing something else.

Getting out of phone conversations was never more difficult than a "now isn't the time" but I still felt/feel obligated to chat up the person on the other line. Still, after spending countless evenings on the phone, I just came to hate the demanding ring.

I remember when I was thirteen and I would leap to the phone, hoping it was for me. Those were the days I could spend hours talking to someone about nothing in particular and somehow be infinitely enriched by it. Ah, the wonders of growing a personality. I remember, even recently, times when I was so low and so lonely I would wait for the phone to ring so I could hear someone tell me it was OK. Often, those calls never came. Now I'm swamped with meaningless phone calls that all demand something of me: when are we meeting? are you free? did you do this? what's up with this? AAAARRGH.

I think the problem is that I've come to associate the phone with a demand for attention and I'm so often busy that hearing the shrill RING! from the other room just makes me ill. I hate having to part with whatever I'm doing, derail my brain, exchange trite pleasantries, and then try to go back. Now whenever I hear the phone ring I just want to throw things at it. I rarely answer it and I always dread that it will be for me, even if it's a friend.

I'm pretty sure I sound busy/disgusted/rude whenever I pick up the phone. To a certain extent it's true. I don't hate the person on the other line, just that they've snapped me out of whatever I was doing to answer.

It may be that I hate interruptions for silly little things. It may be that I just spent one too many nights falling asleep on that phone.

The only phone conversations I can tolerate now are those that are short, sweet, and to the point. I like the guts and glory of conversation to be saved for face-to-face dialogue or written confessionals. Granted, there are a few exceptions I'll make for long phone talk: that with relatives far away, that with old friends, mandatory interviews and... phone sex (my good old, long gone friend).

Sigh.

I don't know; I didn't used to have anything against phone conversations. But god, I hate them now.

Just.... don't call me.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Updated archive files to fix annoying 503 error today. Yipee! Please let me know if the Java pulldown menu on the left doesn't work for you.]