Stickin’ A Damn Phone To My Ear…

y’know, there are aspects of my mother’s personality that really, REALLY torqued me off, ways in which i swore up, down, and sideways that i would never be like her. one of the biggest was her irrational refusal to accept certain ideas, or do certain things, generally for really lame reasons.
so we come to my absolute and damn-near irrational hatred of talking on the phone. (only damn-near irrational because of all the years i did it for a living – i spent far too many hours each day with a receiver stuck to the side of my head to ever enjoy it again).
the list of people i will willingly spend time with on the phone is short – you look at the list of family on my facebook profile, and there they are… other than them, not to sound pretentious or arrogant, but if i talk with you on the phone, it’s a fucking gift. i’ll chat online for as long as schedule permits, exchange emails so many times in a day that it gets ridiculous, i’ll even write letters by snail mail before i willingly talk to most folks on the phone.
and in this behavior, i see echoes of my mother.
now that’s a really uncomfortable thing for me to recognize… but still it stands. i used to enjoy it, even after my years working the phone, but then technology caught up with me and some things seems to have clicked in my brain… i don’t HAVE to stick a damn receiver to my head to communicate… i can use words the way i prefer to… written. 
immutable.
stored.
preserved.
not subject to faulty memory… or rewriting, whether intentional or unintentional.
safe.
okay, so… that was revelatory. 
welcome to therapy by blog. we’re so glad you could join us on this brief voyage of discovery. y’all have a good day now,  y’hear?
listening to: Blood On The Sea – Jordan Reyne
mood: grumpy and in need of coffee

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