I don't handle interruptions well. Externally, I think I simply pause, perhaps a little sadly. Internally, my gears lurch to a sudden stop and click hesitantly in place, lost. My system hurts and can't resume. That place where I was is gone. To rebuild it would take just as long as it took to establish the first time. So instead, I hope that the past trail of conversation will end so a new one can begin. I may also feel bitter that the journey wasn't finished, but I'm usually not angry at the other person. I'm just frustrated by the interruption itself.
It feels nearly impossible for me to interrupt others. My entire system protests it. So, I typically sit quietly and wait for an opportunity to speak. Or I stand silently nearby until the other person notices me and asks me what I need. It's perhaps only a few times a year that I address others by name to get their attention. Why can't I do these things? I don't know. It just feels wrong somehow.
I like consistency, stability, and endless wave-lines. I like techno music that shifts on and on gradually. I like scenes that linger and I like holding onto a feeling for seconds, minutes, and hours. But there are so many interruptions. My days feel like mis-matched grids of train tracks with abandoned engines cluttering the landscape. Moments are layered windows of multi-tasking with no Apple function to zoom out and spread them apart. Each task bumps into me from another direction and interrupts my attempts at homeostasis. I'm shaken out of place again. If I could only sneak into the tea house and shut the sliding door behind me. Then I could rest in the shade of the ink-dyed wall, feel the tatami under my feet, and enjoy the flower on display. There I could follow the steps one by one, savoring the color and smell of the tea as I hand it to the first guest. I want to live in the fullness of appreciation, but I feel more like I'm cycling in recovery mode between a million adjustments that kick me out of place. I don't feel like I have any control at all.
So, when people ask me questions or tell me things, sometimes all I can say is "Okay." Ok, I'll adjust; but I'm not there yet. Or, I can't adjust to that track right now, but I still want to listen; so go ahead and I'll try to keep you in sight from here. By radio, I send: r, r, ga = i hear and understand you. go ahead. Okay, I'll try to follow.
I'm not sure if that's how River felt, but that's a familiar feeling for me.
(Eighth post reflecting on the video game "To The Moon")