it just becomes me
theophany (thee-OF-uh-nee) noun
An appearance of a god to a person.
[From Medieval Latin theophania, from Late Greek theophaneia, from Greek
theo- (god) + -phaneia (to show).]
I wonder why I don't like a lot of people. Or at least, why I don't like to talk to them.
I think I've become entirely too dependent on Caller I.D. When I don't feel like talking to someone, I can ignore them. When I don't feel like talking, I can turn off my phone.
(The more astute members of the audience will now start calling me at home. Please don't, I pray you. There is no private phone line in this house.)
I'm good at faking it though. The seeker on the other end of the line usually finds exactly what he or she wants, and, interestingly enough, sometimes even I come away content. Much like that vague concept explored in Senior Apologetics, simply the very act of doing something can be enough to elicit the accompanying emotion. If I pretend to be happy and excited, I will end up feeling happy and excited, if only for a brief flash.
On the flipside, when I do want to talk to people (certain, specific individuals), I can never bring myself to do so. The habit of silence is easy for me to slip into, and its comfort is dark and inviting. Why speak when I can hear so much?
And even so, silence will harm. There is a letter I must write, breaking my silence and silencing my conscience. I want to write it, but I fear writing it and so I'm avoiding it. Procrastination was never my folly, yet more and more I'm adopting its calm, devil-may-care persona.
All this doesn't mean that my failure to answer my phone indicates my refusal to speak to you. It doesn't, necessarily. It just means that I'd rather be silent right now, thank you. Or that I'm unavailable. What a concept.
It also doesn't mean that my enthusiasm, or sympathy, or whatever I make out to be feeling when you call me, is faked. It isn't, necessarily. But just as we all tell those convenient lies ("Your fake tan isn't that orange! It will fade! In fact, it looks almost peachy already!"), I fake convenient feelings. I bet you do too.
Translation is the art of erasing oneself in order to speak in another's voice. -David Cole