Thursday, October 14, 2010


While at parent teacher conferences yesterday, I received a call on my cell. It was from a local number. I assumed it would be for massage. As soon as I could, I checked my voicemail, trying to think of the best possible times that I could offer. When the voicemail clicked on, an angry man’s voice barked at me, “This is Frank, I am sick to death of being lied to!” In that split second my mind exploded and heart dropped into my stomach, instantly making me nauseous. Who was this man? Why does he think I’ve lied to him? I tried to think of a massage client that I booked and possibly forgot to write down. Four or five impossible possibilities flashed through my mind. It felt like that second when you hear the sirens and see the flashing lights in your rearview. Your skin hurts. You can’t breathe. Your church-given guilt goes into hyper-drive and you don’t know why, but you know you did something horrible. The second that takes an hour an a half passes and the police car zooms past, off to torment someone else. Even though, you realize you’re in the clear, fifteen miles later, you’re still trying to breathe normal, erase the sick feeling from your gut and return to your normal homeostasis.
“This is Frank, and I am sick to death of being lied to! The liberal media…” at that point I ripped the phone from my ear and slammed down on the off button. Then tried not to throw up. I don’t understand how my brain can operate so fast and come up with so many horrible scenarios in the space between two sentences—and how the feeling of guilt can stay all evening from an event not even meant for me. I wasn’t planning on voting for the liberal side of things (necessarily) in this election season, but as they haven’t called and screamed at me without so much as a ‘hello,’ I think they just might have my vote after all. Seriously, who thinks that calling and instantly being angry is going to help people vote for you?

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