Emotocon-servation

I hear from time to time that e-mail is a horrible means of communication, a means that leads directly to misunderstandings. I hear from time to time that sensitive or even vaguely imortant issues should happen over the phone or preferably in person.

There is science behind this. Within our brain is a division known as the limbic center. It's function is much like that of our emotional and intuitive nature--our proverbial heart. If you're talking to someone and they don't say anything out of line, but they give you the creeps for reasons that you can't explain, it's because your limbic center is picking up on body language or micro-expressions, that your neo-cortex (your proverbial head) can't explain. The limbic center and neo-cortex don't speak to each other very well so that's why sometimes you feel things that don't make sense or you can't describe.

The limbic center responds to millions of environmental cues of which you have no awareness. In others it observes facial ticks, movements of the eyes, body postures, tones of voice, dilation of the pupils. Your limbic center is a lie detector, a joy detector, a lust detector. But it communicates with feelings that you can't always interpret or many of us learn to ignore. But many of us, all day long, take for granted what we don't ignore. How many times have we looked at a friend and communicated volumes? That's almost all the work of the limbic center.

In face to face communication, we are operating on all those levels at once. On the telephone, our instinctual sensors pay attention to vocal changes in tone, but are partially hindered by not being able to observe body language. Over e-mail, we are stuck in the land of the neo-cortex and are left to fill in the gaps.

But is it really fair to blame e-mail, to say that e-mail is terrible? Might it be more accurate to say that people are too quick to assume, that we are an insecure species ready to fill empty space with visions of an outside world beset to vex us?

Assuming that you've never met me, you likely have a picture in your head of what I sound like--how I would be reading this to you and responding to you physically. And that image would be different in every reader's brain. We are incapable of experiencing anything without context, so however it is you may imagine me, it is based on your own experiences, your own mental records, your own baggage.

When you imagine a slight over e-mail that was not intended, I think that it's safe to say that while e-mail may be inadequate, it is not a demon. Your demons are the demon.

It's at this point that I should confess to you that about an hour ago, I was trembling with rage over an e-mail someone sent to me (that's the stuff of the reptillian center by the way, for those of you who are interested). I am writing this post now, and I'm still a little angry. I'm not feeling terribly forgiving, though I'm feeling better than I was an hour ago. Much better.

Does that now color your perception of the tone of my message? It should. Do I now seem irrational and/or self-righteous rather than ponderous? That likely will have to do with your own history with anger and/or angry people. That history may guide you to guess correctly, but you will be relying on your own experience, not the emotionless white-on-grey text of this post.

I love e-mail. I'm a terrible corresponder and don't correspond well via e-mail or the telephone really with anyone--including my closest friends and family. But, like exercise, I hardly do it, but when I do it I feel great.

I actually enjoy the facelessness of communication like this. I enjoy the writing part. I enjoy when I have so much to say that I go on and on and can't quite stop writing. I enjoy re-reading what I've written before I send it, only to make so many additions to my e-mail that I have to read it again. I like when, for important e-mails, I'll cycle through like that five times before I send, like I did this morning.

Sometimes e-mail gives people the courage to be awfully mean. I don't like that so much. I've been guilty in the past of being mean over e-mail. Again, though, is e-mail the real criminal or was I? It's not a terribly profound point that I'm trying to make, is it, so feel free to respond to this post and tell me that I'm stupid. You can get really mean after all, and you can picture me as a guy who deserves it and who's feelings won't even be hurt.

I also like talking to loved ones on the phone. I like to be able to pace and react nervously. I like hiding my facial expressions so I can roll my eyes when I hear bullshit. I like looking at my feet and constantly moving while I talk. I like being able to close my eyes, or stare in one spot so I can really concentrate on what the other person is saying. In the past, I have found much more confidence dealing with others on the phone, and even more confidence while typing away by myself.

In person, I have a tendency never to look anyone in the eye. That's not as bad as it sounds. I actually don't hear very well, so I tend to watch people's mouths so I can better understand what they're saying. I have a tendency to muddle words and speak a little like our president does from time to time. I can come off as academic occasionally, but never really in person. If I am really comfortable with you, I will become more at ease and articulate, but with most people in my life, that is not how I feel and not how I come accross.

I have a funny relationship with conflict. My fiance will tell you that I can be argumentative, that while I'm agreeable and compromising for the good of the pack, I can quickly and agressively defend myself very stubbornly when I feel a line has been crossed. Most others I know, would probably tell you that they've never seen me particularly defensive or combative.

At some point in my life I began to divide the people in my life into two groups--people I really cared about, and everyone else. At one point in my life, I used to care little about Everyone Else. Later, I began to care for all human beings--perhaps too much, but I still found it hard to truly participate, to truly engage in the dance of life with Everyone Else.

My fiance knew me for two years before she got together with me, even worked with me closely. She shared conversations with others who thought they knew me. She informed me at one point after we'd been dating for a while, that I do not at all resemble the person she once thought I was, nor did the opinions of the Others with whom she spoke hit the mark.

It became clear to me at that point that I live my life with most people like I'm writing an e-mail. I am interesting words on a illustrated page, but I leave the interpretation to others whom I mostly ignore. And when their demons respond, my immediate feeling is that their demons justify my condition, they justify this distance.

There are some people whom I really love, but I still live far away from them for whatever reason. This has happened a lot in my adult life. I may treat them mostly like they're Everyone Else, but they occupy a place in my heart that they couldn't possibly know about, since I never show it. I am my father's son. I accidentally upset a person who lives in that category today, and that person responded via e-mail in a way that I only imagine e-mail can give one the courage to respond. I'll leave it at that.

I like e-mail because it is convenient. I avoid conflict because it is inconvenient. I treat many people in a way that is convenient for me, in a way that usually causes very little harm. I lead a life that is somewhat monastic in that I have tried my best to remove the trappings of life because they bother me so much. I am sensitive. Too sensitive. Those are my demons.