Space

I am often the passenger in the car. That's fine with me, I am too much of a surrealist to be what I call a good driver but that's another story. I am continually shocked to see people driving while talking on the phone which shows how behind the times I am. The other day, though, while passing a rare driver that was on the highway simply driving, I found myself thinking, what's wrong with that guy, doesn't he have anyone to talk to? Jeez, doesn't he have any friends?

I don't feel that way at all, in fact I never use my telephone on terra firma unless I am forced into it and even then I try to wiggle out of it. I'd rather write an e-mail any day. The phone is always an interruption and gives me too much information. I can be shattered by voice inflection and intonation, or annoyed by a distracted listener. Catching someone at a bad moment can be devastating to me. I find that email gives me an opportunity to see and adjust how I sound before I send it, like brushing my hair before answering the door. I can usually catch a bad tone or incoherent sentence when I re-read it. When I receive an email that strikes me as snarky or cryptic the pain isn't as devastating as a nasty voice. I can cool off and come back to reread it, ignore it, or delete it. The delete button is my junkyard dog protecting my psyche. I can vaporize any offending and irritating emails! In this instant-message world I still require a lot of space to breathe.