Selective social anxiety

phone-hatred

I hate talking on the phone. I don’t particularly like talking with people face to face either most of the time, but it doesn’t make me nervous. It doesn’t make me pace, or write a script before I talk to a person for fear that my thumping heart will make me forget how to speak English. It’s fucking weird. It’s like the whole person is stuck in my ear. I can picture them poking my brain, and taking souvenirs, because it sure as hell feels like talking on the phone is the equivalent to being lobotomized.

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I have appointments to make tomorrow, and since I’m not sleeping (thanks, mucous membranes), I’m thinking about phone. And also, I blog from my phone most of the time because it’s much easier for me to control one finger at a time instead of ten. That’s true dedication. I do love my handheld computing device, so it’s a real bummer that it receives and sends voice calls.

Blogging and conversing with other bloggers makes me a little red in the face too, but that’s logical, because every turd I send out into the intertubes gets bronzed and displayed for the whole connected world to see. Hitting publish is pretty much an itty bitty panic attack, followed by a smidgen of remorse, until it all settles down. Sort of like snorting wasabi. I promise, it feels really good after the nosebleed stops.

 

Talk to me, Goose!

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