Phone

Bane of my existence. I have a serious, unreasonable absolute unchanging *DISLIKE* of telephones. (sorry, phone- nothing personal- I don't want to hurt it's feelings...rather than hating the phone I should say I dislike talking on the phone and HATE answering phones) sigh.

Grendel is the opposite- he loves, loves, loves his new cell phone and is either talking or texting. Or just playing with it. bleah.

So, don't take it personally here folks- I dislike talking on the phone, but I *love* you none-the-less. I will talk to mum (weekly, on Sundays- I know she struggles to hear but it's a comfort-connection thing... we both spend allot of time saying 'what'? but that is actually kinda funny...) I will talk to Melissa and my sisters. Grendel knows better than to call me unless it is an emergency.

Why is this? At one point in my life I was a phone-connected teenager like everyone else. I know that part of it is that I really can't hear on the phone well. Some people are crystal-clear (Luckily Melissa and my sisters fall into that group), some people I can hear but can't understand the words (Like your average wrong number, the school call-arounds unless Norma is talking, or telemarketers. It just sounds like blahblahblahblahgrumbleblah) and some people I can't hear at all. (Like Grendel's grandma. Soft spoken southern accent- I'm lucky if I know someone is on the phone. Huh? What? UnHu? does not make for thrilling conversation on my part). So part of it is physical. (and yes, I've been to ear doctors, and no, they can't help me with aids or even implants. one said that my ears looked like they suffered from repeated exposure to very loud noise- like jet engines.... huh. Musta been the bagpipes.)

Secondly, I have phone-anxiety. I suppose this comes from a very-bad-time when I was married then newly separated, I had no money and there where LOTS of bills. Creditors calling day and night threatening to rip out my toenails. So I just stopped answering the phone as phone=nasty person yelling about something I can't do anything about. Those bills were paid long ago, and I am uber-responsible now, but the memory remains. Add in a dysfunctional relationship and yeah, phones=curse of satan.

Calling parents doesn't help. Never in my life have I had a productive phone call with a parent. If school calls they instantly know that little Johnny has been a holy terror and they don't want to talk to you, just beat Johnny. We don't have a phone on our wing, I can't hear what they are saying and I'd rather work at Walmart. This is what conferences are for, and email works well to.

Finally- (good god, I sound like I'm writing a 10th grade essay- sorry folks!) when people call me to beg for something (as it is obvious that art teachers have nothing in the world to do but sit on our butts and wait for people to ask us to make stuff for free... i needa poster/ banner/ diorama) I say yes because I don't understand what they are saying (and it might just be "hey King, do you want a million dollars?) and I just want to get off the phone.

I love email, I love to write. (obvious?) I love facebook. I love internet programs like Centra and Skype, because I can turn the speakers up REALLY LOUD and there is the bonus, bonus of scrolling text option. I like voice recognition software ok, but just because the mis-wordedness makes me laugh. "Do you want Squirrel Underpants?" (I still don't know what that was supposed to be.......)