The devil and all his works

[smokingboot]

Studied Gestalt therapy last night. Interesting. We worked with rocks. I am the Happy Whale.

This class is full of excellent people and some are becoming chums. One such gave me a present she'd been saving for me, something she said she would never use, it had been given to her and sat in a box for months; an Orange mobile phone. She is so kind, but this fills me with dread.

I have had a mobile phone before; you know what? These things are only good for when you are trapped down a mine or something, and the rescuers above can find you via the signal. Otherwise, they are just tags on you. Anyone can call you at any time, and they will. If your phone is switched off, you are to blame for them not being able to reach you. You miss calls and it feels like something terrible must have happened, cos hey, first they tried your landline then they tried your mobile. It must be important. God, it's horrid.

No-one talks on phones, I certainly can't. It's the lukewarm porridge of communication, OK for when there's no other way. Let's talk face to face, or let's write stuff down, both funky and accurate ways of expressing oneself. Let's use the phone for emergency chumship and quickfire arrangements. Much more civilised.

I had a vodaphone given to me by a friend most excellent, years ago. I believe it was a combination gift from several beloved chums, but she was the originator and most ardent supporter of the idea. For the first 12 months there was some kind of deal that saved me lots of money or something, I don't know, cos I mainly used the phone for calls from her saying 'Are you using the phone I gave you?' After that, it snowballed into a permanent drain on my account. 'You have to shop around for the right deal,' she would say, but I hate shopping and comparing savings and all that kind of stuff. I just couldn't be arsed. And Vodaphone were arses themselves to deal with. No, I was grateful when it ended.

And now it starts again.

The thing lies sleeping in its box down in the front room. I am ignoring it.

Comments

[november-girl.livejournal.com]

I like the telephone, just so long as I'm confident that the person I'm calling also does, and will definitely know who I am. I have a number of friends who I will quite happily call for a general natter and catch up because the miles keep us apart. The written word almost always bestows a lack of conversation and an encouragement of narrative, which is something of a double-edged sword. However, I rarely feel that I have really interacted with someone if I am simply writing or typing to them - for one thing I have no idea whether or not they have bothered to read it!

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Interaction via the written word is a complex thing, I love it, but it certainly doesn't have the spontaneous power of face to face conversation.

The phone, I never know. It's good for the extremes, the immediate and the necessary. Beyond that, I tend to feel a bit awkward on it.

Pauses that aren't a problem in face to face, and don't really occur in the written form, can somehow seem glaring in significant on the phone; my irrational translation is 'God, is that it? Are we out of stuff to say?' Whereas in writing you just accept that the other person has gone for a coffee, and face to face you just sit in the moment...