I don’t really hate you.  Not in the way that you or most people think of “hate” as an emotion.  But this message does contain a bit of something very like hate and it’s directed right at you.  You, who always have something to say.  No matter the situation you always feel the need to open your mouth and destroy what was almost definitely a great moment.  It’s not that I’m in any way above having casual conversations.  Hell, I love that sort of thing on a daily basis, whether I’m at work or just out and about enjoying the weekend.  The person I’m talking about, this Talker, is one of the most frustrating people in my life.  I’m of course referring to the bastard who talks to me as I’m reading.

I’m here to tell you right now: shut the f*** up.

If the building is on fire or there is some other pressing issue that you have to discus with me then sure, by all means, interrupt what I’m doing.  I honestly won’t mind (and in the case of a fire I’ll probably thank you).  But do NOT under any circumstances interrupt me to talk about the weather.  Or sports.  Or something that can wait.  Or (unless you’re quite attractive and this is an opening line of some sort) to ask me what I’m reading.  You probably won’t like it and if I know you and your tastes I’ve most likely already talked to you about it so just keep that trap shut and go on your merry way.  It’s so amazingly frustrating to be interrupted when I’m engrossed in a story.  I don’t care if you see me reading a voluminous tome that resembles War and Peace (which it probably won’t be) or just the latest issue of Esquire.  If I have it in front of my face there is something of value in there and I’d like to continue exploring that, not talking to you.  Rest assured that what I’m reading is important to me and it’s most likely more interesting than you.

I love reading, as most geeks do, and I slip in bits of it whenever I can.  I read before bed, on lunch, on breaks, in the afternoon, in the middle of the day, before I even get dressed in the morning, or whenever else I can find the time to stick some words in front of my eyes.  Magazines, books, comics, I’m probably in the middle of at least 4 different things at any given point and I do not wish to put these things aside to hear about how warm it is outside today.  I’ve been out there and you’re right, when the sun comes out it gets warm.  You powers of observation are not more astounding then the text in front of me.  Kindly piss off.

Despite the venom here I don’t hate you.  These interruptions do create a spike of…that thing that’s like hate, but not hate.  Maybe we can call it annoyance.  Although, it is also a bit frustrating on top of that annoyance.  And it does seem to give me a quick spike in blood pressure, which just sounds unhealthy.  Then there’s the after annoyance of trying to find my exact spot on the page after I’ve managed to pull myself away from whatever RIVETING thing you just had to tell me.  I suppose, all things considered, it should just be called hate.

So please, don’t interrupt me.  Don’t ask me about my weekend, or “what’s going on”, or anything else if you see that I’m in the middle of something.  I don’t want to hate you but you must understand that if you force my hand by assaulting my ears then I will just have to.  It can’t be helped.  It will pass quickly so we can always be friendly and civil but for that split second there’s a decent chance I’m going to wish for your death.  Just remember that I can go from zero to blinding hate in the span of one interrupted sentence.

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