The silence
Being voiceless feels like an erasure. This is day six. And, it's day one of knowing that whispering, which was possible, is an extremely bad no-good thing to do, so total silence.
A "larry" friend- someone who lost their larynx to cancer- advised me to prepare a pad of paper with NO and YES and 1 SEC PLEASE. That last one is just asking for patience while you type something out on your phone, which can serve as a mini-whiteboard.
There is a guy at the co-work studio, a laid-back techie from New England with an unexpectedly sweet smile. We chat sometimes about American politics. Earlier this week it was clear that he couldn't make out my whisper- so I shoved my phone across the table to him, indicating that he should please enter his number. Smooth, right? A small amount of one-sided text convo ensued.
Last night I pushed my luck a little further. We were both working late, it was clear that work was getting beyond the point of frustration. I whisper-asked, Got plans? He did not. Want to grab a beer at the pub across the street? He smiled awkwardly and mumbled something about an ex-pats club event later, so "maybe another time."
Well, nothing ventured. I feel no awkwardness myself, but point taken. I will damn well not be making another move of any kind.
Today is a rare sunny Saturday. I'm at a favourite cafe, but kind of by default. No plans. No motivation. Should have picked up a prescription today: couldn't be arsed. Tried texting a couple friends: all out doing stuff. Tried texting my Mom, because I can't phone, and as yet no response. Which, by the way- you say these modern times make you leery of the phone? You don't like it when people have the temerity to CALL you instead of texting? Try imagining the phone ringing but you are mute and live alone: can't run to a spouse or roommate to answer it for you. Fucking frustrating.
Older women say they feel invisible, and sometimes that feels to me like a superpower. Today it just feels sad, because I'm neither seen nor heard.
A "larry" friend- someone who lost their larynx to cancer- advised me to prepare a pad of paper with NO and YES and 1 SEC PLEASE. That last one is just asking for patience while you type something out on your phone, which can serve as a mini-whiteboard.
There is a guy at the co-work studio, a laid-back techie from New England with an unexpectedly sweet smile. We chat sometimes about American politics. Earlier this week it was clear that he couldn't make out my whisper- so I shoved my phone across the table to him, indicating that he should please enter his number. Smooth, right? A small amount of one-sided text convo ensued.
Last night I pushed my luck a little further. We were both working late, it was clear that work was getting beyond the point of frustration. I whisper-asked, Got plans? He did not. Want to grab a beer at the pub across the street? He smiled awkwardly and mumbled something about an ex-pats club event later, so "maybe another time."
Well, nothing ventured. I feel no awkwardness myself, but point taken. I will damn well not be making another move of any kind.
Today is a rare sunny Saturday. I'm at a favourite cafe, but kind of by default. No plans. No motivation. Should have picked up a prescription today: couldn't be arsed. Tried texting a couple friends: all out doing stuff. Tried texting my Mom, because I can't phone, and as yet no response. Which, by the way- you say these modern times make you leery of the phone? You don't like it when people have the temerity to CALL you instead of texting? Try imagining the phone ringing but you are mute and live alone: can't run to a spouse or roommate to answer it for you. Fucking frustrating.
Older women say they feel invisible, and sometimes that feels to me like a superpower. Today it just feels sad, because I'm neither seen nor heard.