Networking
When I was a child (and by child, I mean, up until, say, 25, thank you increased human longevity for allowing us to Westerners to extend our adolescence beyond all reasonable cut-off ages!), I really, really hated making or receiving phone calls. With the exception of a call known to be from my brother, one of my parents or a best friend, I loathed picking up the phone and conversing, even when the person on the line was a beloved aunt or jolly acquaintance, etc. But, still, I'd rather have talked to one of my dad's long-winded, ailing parishioners (and that happened many, many times, which is why I do not really mind when my students go on about boys or nail polish or The Catcher in the Rye, because it's so much nicer than hearing about their colons), then actually make phone calls myself. I really had an extreme dislike for doing so. I suspect some of it was tied into my hearing loss (although I can hear quite well on any phone with a volume control), but some of it was just the unpredictability of it all. Who would answer? What would they say? Would I be clear in my speaking or say something like, "Um, uh, who, you, um, is home?"?
Actually, reading that shows that there's no real logical explanation for my fear. Which I guess is the definition of a phobia. I must have had one -- although I did make the occasional phone call when necessary.
The aversion has carried into my adulthood, but I've gotten better. I do prefer email for almost all of my day to day business, in playwriting and peace work, but that's mostly because I like to be able to refer back to what was "said" and decided. I also prefer texting and emails (which I can read on my Blackberry Pearl, beloved more than life itself, and dubbed "The Girlberry") when I'm out and about, because exterior noise 1) makes it difficult for me to hear, and 2) judging from phone calls I've had with people who out and about themselves, sounds to the person on the other end as though one is calling from the midst of a battle between a marching band parade and a circus. I'm just a texty kind of gal. But I do like a phone call more now.
This week, I've had several nice ones. A long chat with my friend Christine, who is, blessings!, four months pregnant. Another nice, long one with Melissa, who's handling a difficult situation with class and verve. Two shorter chats with my brother, who makes me laugh like absolutely no one else on the planet, and who I miss (he lived with me this fall but now is taking some fancy new job, whatever, fine). A bon voyage call with my parents, who are now in Switzerland (and, I hope, having a fantastic time. I can't wait to learn more about Switzerland than chocolate, watches, cheese and Swiss Army products). the usual quick chats with Andrew. A job interview call, which left me impressed by the passion of educators. And so it goes.
When you live alone, as I do, and spend too much time online, as I do, those phone calls become important. Someone else's voice can really bring me out of whatever dark and dreary mood (too often lately, this mood has been set to Rufus Wainwright singing "Hallelujah" as though I am Shrek, or a character on The O.C. ). I need to hear those voices more often, and make more room for them in my life.
A few months ago, I told a friend of mine that I preferred texting to a phone call, and since then, he usually contacts me by texting. But I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that, because I miss the sound of his voice, vibrant, and definitive, on my cell's voicemail (or in my ear). I've got to tell him that. Perhaps I should trying dialing out more.
