Odd Phoney

Sometimes you just have to deal with things you really would have wanted to avoid, life gets in the way of plans. The things you would have liked to avoid, at least for once, for now, can be the silliest, most mundane things imaginable. But somehow that mundane thing/s can become a real heart-pounding, mouthdrying, lump in the stomach obstacle that demands a whole lot of willpower to overcome.

Myself I have this complicated relationship with telephones - well not the phone itself, now that would be completely scary and probably quite decadent, but the calls to and from it. And, mind you, this is a sort of semi-secret so I'd appreciate if you didn't pass it forward.

First, a bit of background to this *oddity* of mine (ha, ha, as if I have to explain myself);

I love the company of my very self on my own, but I also love to interact with people - preferably intelligent, thinking, acting, compassionate, caring, wonderful people and friends I've found by pure luck, chance, destiny and whom I am fortunate enough to be able to call friends, family and acquaintances. But hey, just fairly decent ones can be fun to hang out with too. When I can't meet these persons irl I'm happy just chatting on the phone with them. Sometimes for a lengthy period of time.

Furthermore, I have no problems interacting with new people, make my voice heard at meetings or negotiations, making public speeches or doing my thing, whatever that might be, if needed in the open. So, in general terms - even if I also like my privacy and time for solitary contemplation - nope, I'm no fuddy-duddy recluse, the neighbourhood's hermit catlady - though some might disagree - the anti-social oddball. I'm just me.

However. Telephones. This amazing invention that we have come to depend so very much upon, sometimes leave me with some or all of the above symptoms of anxiety. Or well, not the telephones but the step I'm forced to take by calling somebody. Or by all means, answer my own phone sometimes. Do I have to mention that I'm a great fan of answering machines and that I simply adore number presentors? Ah, the endless screening possibilities are truly heaven-sent.

And yes, that one actually make a decision not to answer the phone is a very distinguished sign of inner growth and maturity. I'm a grown up, I can decide for myself, I can actually chose to screen my incoming calls, pick the ones I like to talk to, or at least pick the appropriate time for me to return the call. This is progress, this is me being on top of things. Manoeuvring my own ship of life.

But sometimes, alas, there's no escape, the only way to get things done is by making, or recieving, a phonecall. And yup I'm completely aware of the fact that it's only me, myself and I who blow this phoney business right out of every reasonable proportion. And when I actually will myself to pick that phone up, make that call, take a stand, do the deed, I never stumble, rarely hesitate and most often get rather a buzz by doing, finally having made, that silly, foolish little call I've anxiously put off for varied periods of time.

I think and hope I've come to terms with this phoney part of me, it's not that it delimit my life - even if one might get that impression by reading a whole blogpost about it... But hey, I do like to put things, thoughts and ideas into words - and secretly, deep down, I sort of think that I rather like to carefully nurture this case of phoney phobia. It's actually kind of fancy, the notion of me being a bit of a nutter, having a dash of odd phoney.