Someone was trying to reach me by phone the other day, “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours”, they said, and although it’s nothing personal, I must admit I have a deep seated dislike for the telephone. Perhaps I am afflicted with Telephonophobia. Is there such a thing?
I used to feel bad about ignoring the ringing phone, mostly for the other person, but if I stopped what I was doing every time it rang, I would lose my train of thought so essential to writing the things I like. On the other hand, it’s not as if the phone rings all day.
Perhaps if I was involved in theorizing a mathematical construct for an emerging star system and Stephen Hawking was trying to reach me to discuss my formulas, or Oprah Winfrey to comment on my African Mythology Series, I would be able to overcome my fear of the telephone. More probably, I would be tongue tied at the prospect of talking to someone of such notoriety, only reinforcing my discomfort by taking it to the level of psychotic.
As Woody Allen, a most celebrated neurotic, would probably say: “The universe is in cosmic flux, increased solar wind is moving towards earth dooming our very existence, while global warming threatens to turn us all into mer-people as the continents sink, forcing us to spend our lives avoid being harpooned by Japanese Whaling ships for our blubber, and your worried about phone calls?”