Social? II
It seems to me that smoking is a way to occupy oneself when one has nothing else to occupy oneself with. Examples include standing on a street corner waiting for a Friend, or the Bus, or a Sign (idleThinK respects the devout amongst us). Lately, however, it has occurred to me that the activity I shall nominally term "play-with-your-phone-ing" is rapidly catching up in terms of popularity, so much so that the population of Friend, Bus or Sign-waiters seems to be increasingly divided into sub-categories of "smoker" or "playwithphoner".
Those in the latter category have developed a powerful automatic reflex action: when in doubt, reach for the phone. When in waiting, reach for the phone. When in a restaurant by Thyself (cf. two posts ago), Dining Alone, reach for the phone.
Once reached for, many options present themselves, now that one has an instrument that - properly utilized - will satisfy the reflexively "anti-alone" sentiment in our society. One could stare intently at the phone, fingers flying over the keys, thus giving the impression that they are performing some profoundly important duty, e.g. composing a ringtone or checking their email or messaging God (as I said, idleThinK caters for the devout). One might even hold the phone to the ear and pretend to chatter animatedly into the unresponsive phone, giving - depending on what is desired - either the impression that they are extremely social people, and would never be e.g. standing on a street corner alone without being rung up constantly by a stream of friends, or the impression that they are performing a monumentally important business transaction. Either way, no one will think they are sad, or so they hope. This may fail miserably if, in the middle of their animated fabricated conversation, their phone rings.
Failing that, there is always Snake 1 or 2. There, I am guilty.
The fact that people feel the inherent need to justify their alone-ness in such a way only reinforces what I said two posts down. I think it is terribly unfair. Society needs to accept loners (and that word should not have the negative connotations it does, either. Pah).
In other news, the operation was a success, and my father is completely A-OK, which can only be a good thing. It disturbs me somewhat when I consider that someone has sliced him open and rummaged around in his intestines, and then rearranged them and sewed him back up. An unpleasant notion.
For all I know, his guts could now be arranged in the shape of a swastika.