How Do We Communicate?

I must admit that my love of addiction to email/Internet/blogging, text messaging and the most recent passion, Twitter, has exploded to the point where an intervention may be in my future. Running from more traditional methods of communication such as face-to-face talk or land line/cell phone contact, I've learned that my non-work related personality fits best with these more impersonal "tech-y" means of staying in touch. This trait of mine is reinforced by my professional life which is all about face-to-face communication and the telephone. Skills in this arena are essential and I rise to the occasion. Thorough, thoughtful, direct, and kind are words I've heard used to describe my style of verbal communication. So, it's not a question of knowing how or being able. It's more about being flat out weary after talking and dictating notes all day. Off the job, when I have the desire or need to communicate, the telephone is my last choice. Can't I just email him? Could I leave a voice message or text message for her? Is this weird?

Despite my disdain for the land line or the cell phone, I almost always answer the ringing (or vibrating) BEAST even though I might turn right around and hang up on an annoying solicitor. A ring gets my attention, likely the consequence of years and years of signing my life over to the call of the beeper/phone day and night. I'll willingly use the phone when it's the best way to get something accomplished but I'm always hoping that the call will be short and sweet. When I'm routed to voice mail rather than connecting with a real live person, that's always usually good. I get to say my part and don't have to hear "the problem is..." or "oh by the way". Bad me.

Three cheers for texting and emails! I schedule Mom's hair appointments with Trina at the salon by text. And, all summer it was catch-up by text with Laura; very effective and less intrusive than a phone call. Same goes for emails when it comes to keeping up with close friends. Some of my friends are more on board with my quirkiness than others. My girlfriend MBJ and I have not spoken on the phone in over 20 years (gasp) yet we keep up with each other regularly. Email rocks and keeps our mutual phone-o-phobia alive and well. On the other hand, my dear girlfriend in Florida bemoans my reluctance to talk on the phone; our in-person visits are years apart and because of my phone avoidance quirk, we depend on emails and snail mail to keep in touch. I know she doesn't care for this but, thank you BP, for being so tolerant anyway.

Lest I come off as the total social retard, I do cherish face-to-face visits with friends and family. Truly.

As a post script to this rambling, I'm amused by the extreme culture shock Miss Laura is reporting from Europe where few none of her classmates have phones. Cell phones have been left at home and these 20-something, text messaging gurus are experiencing severe withdrawal as they negotiate unfamiliar terrain sans the tools of the trade. Couple that with lack of consistent Internet connection and subsequent Facebook-withdrawal-syndrome and you've got young folk re-inventing the wheel of old-time communication. Laura remarked yesterday that she and her friends were relying on stand-by, low-tech ways to keep in touch; things like knocking on hotel doors to network with friends, keeping eyes alert for everyone in their group (because, "once they're outta sight, they're gone, Mom"), and making verbal, in-person arrangements to meet up with people at specific places and times. Ahhhhh, a taste of the olden days of yore. She does admit that the lack of text messages interrupting every every conversation and thought has an upside in the form of "less distraction". I bet. Transitioning from receiving and sending as many as 150 text messages (I know, I know) on the average day back home to absolute silence has got to feel weird.

Culture shock? You bet. Laura seems to be handling things well, considering. I'd probably find myself reeling without my cell phone and Internet connection in Europe and/or at home. That's why before I head out for my eventual visit to Florence, I'm gonna need an intervention.