Something That Happened.

Remorse. What it for? Why do we feel remorse? I suspect the feeling is some sort of adaptation humans have developed -- but for what purpose? Why must we feel bad, or remorseful, for our behavior? The answer may seem obvious: We feel remorse so that we won't repeat those behaviors.We sense that our behavior is wrong, unhealthy, unhelpful -- or in a strictly Darwinian sense, harmful to our survival. We're remorseful so that we won't repeat the errors of our ways.



So let's hope the remorse I'm feeling right now is enough to prevent me from becoming a Gossip.



You see, this evening I had a lengthy conversation with someone -- a conversation I was somewhat reluctant to engage in, at first, but proceeded with anyway. A conversation with a person I hardly know, having encountered him exclusively through the Internet, and only through a forum thread, a couple of Skype conversations, and perhaps one email. The phone rang this evening, and I answered it to find this person's voice on the other end. My gut instinct told me to tell this person I was busy, that I couldn't take the call right then, that I had some pressing business to attend to. I ignored my gut, though -- I suppose I had felt that I'd been avoiding this person long enough, and I didn't want to seem rude or off-putting. So I took the call. It's also possible I was somewhat intrigued with what the person might have to say. Then again, perhaps I was just practicing at overcoming my Phonecall Anxiety, or simply trying to use up those extra minutes my mobile phone provider grants me on the weekends. Perhaps this evening I was playing the part of The Nice Guy, anticipating that my inner Snape would turn out to be good.



Turns out, Snape was bad. (My Snape, anyway -- I haven't read the book yet, so don't think this is a spoiler or anything.) This evening I became the gossip I often pride myself on not being. This evening, after the Skype call ended, I proceeded to Skypecall some fellows who "know" this fellow a little better than I do and I gossiped with them about this person. I repeated some of the nonsense I believe the fellow had related to me; I questioned his sanity. I chuckled about his ideas, his perceptions, his ambitions. I may have even called him a name or two.



On the one hand, I have to admit that I enjoyed engaging in the gossip, to some extent. At the time, I felt I was forging a bond with the fellows I was gossiping with; I was One Of The Guys for once. I was Proving My Loyalty to my boys; I was Helping Out The Cause. I was The Man Of The Hour, the



Whatever. I was simply gossiping, and it felt kind of good. Until it didn't.



Before you think I'm being too hard on myself, let me assure you that I'll be over it by sunrise. Unless, of course, I'm not. Still, to better assure you that I will be -- or to distract you, anyway -- here's a link to a Talkchat recording -- that is, a TalkShoe conversation that I engaged in earlier today with a fellow AMP member and recording artist, Samantha Murphy. Sam is tentatively scheduled to host a Talkchat every Saturday at 5pm EDT; here's her TalkShoe page.



I must go; there's a rat in my room. Literally.

Technorati Tags: something that happened, gossip, behavior, remorse, Darwin, TalkShoe, Talkchat, Samantha Murphy, Harold

Labels: anxiety, behavior, consequences, coping, remorse