This is a venting post. And you’ve heard it before from me, but SRSLY I need to do it again.
I. Am. So. Sick. And. Tired. Of. Your. Phone. All y’all. (I’m included in this too, just in case you thought I was getting up on some horse that was way too tall for it’s own good). I am tired of hanging out with you and realizing that the device in your hand is more important than the words that are coming out of my face. I like to tell stories, just as EVERY SINGLE human being since the beginning of time did, and when I’m in the middle of one…you pick up your phone. When I’m starting one, you pick up your phone. Just as the story is about to end…f’ you, phone!!! So, what is it? What happened to actual human interaction? Is there truly something so much more important on the other end of that interstellar bandwidth that takes you away from me every time? Why is it when I explain a scenario that just happened, you have this massive, uncontrollable desire to look at that black rectangular magic maker? Why is it that at the end of said narrative there is no reaction…because you haven’t honestly heard what I’ve said. Silence. And one is left alone in the parking lot, loading groceries, thinking, "Crap. I was totes just talking to myself this whole time.” And then you want to reach out and poke the other human in the gut just to make sure they’re real. Because silence. And nothingness. And then frustration.
No, I don’t need you to drop everything when I walk in the room (JK. Give me a frackin’ hug, dammit). No, I don’t need you to stop your business transactions. No, I don’t need you to halt your life just for me. But…….guys…..what happened? Do you remember the website I told you about? I thought you would really enjoy it…hehloo? Do you remember the dresses I bought for summer the other day? I thought you would be excited…hehloo? Do you remember my tears when I was telling you a story about a child I met, because I thought it was inspirational…hehloo? Do you remember…me?
Hello?
Irrelevant/Invisible Residence. I’m sorry, she’s not available right now, may I take a message?
…(Ps. she’s prolly writing on a piece of PAPER right now!!! WHA?!?!?). Just leave a message. (eye roll).
Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m 41 and I remember the times of the actual phone. That one where you couldn’t stalk, stare at, fight with, debate with, “like”, “share”, flirt with, etc. from a box of “anonymity”. Those times when you were taught that the most important number to know was -911-…BUT!! Don’t ever dial it until the absolute disaster happens…yea. Ok, mom. You know I dialed that just to hear what happened on the other end, right??? …and then profusely apologized to the woman and explained (in a 7 year old way) exactly why I had dialed the emergency number: total mystery on the other side of this mustard colored pushbutton phone hanging on the wall that I can barely reach. Side note: first time I was called “hun”. <3
Regression.
Ah, shit. Is THIS why you don’t listen anymore?!?!
Stupid bogs and my rules of not deleting anything that’s not relevant…[HRMPH].
What were we talking about??? Here. Let me toss in some joke about how stupid I am in order to make you laugh…
Hehloo?
Oh. That’s right.
The things and stuff happen where plans fall through, people go their separate ways, others get “tired”, dinner fails, drinks out-fizzle, movie dates become single dates, talking…subsides. Conversation ceases.
…and I spoke with someone once, in a restaurant and said, “I never want to be that couple over there, not speaking to each other, so thank you!!”
Life has a weird way of punching you in the face. Because YOU’RE NOT SPEAKING TO EACH OTHER ANYMORE!!!!!
Guys! WTF. HAPPENED?!?!
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