3CB

Wikipedia defines small talk as conversation for the sake of conversation and calls it a key social skill. Another definition says small talk is ‘polite conversation about unimportant or uncontroversial matters, especially as engaged in on social occasions.’ I don’t particularly enjoy small talk, possibly because I’m not very good at it. My go-to topic is the weather, which I suppose is pretty lame.

I like to talk about things that matter to people, things they have real feelings about. Of course such topics tend to be controversial and dig beneath people’s social masks, which I suppose is why people like small talk so much. It lets you maintain the face you choose to show the world.

And I suppose it’s only polite to respect that, to let people show you what they want you to see. A friend told me that once. He said, ‘If people want you to see them a certain way, pretend not to notice when a different side of them slips out. That’s how you keep friends.’ It’s also how you get ahead.

I was reading a cracked article about harsh truths that can make you a better person. It talks about being the kind of person people like, being useful and meeting their needs. Popular people are like that. They’re good at knowing what different people need and providing it. Such people are intelligent, versatile, and just a little scary – at least to me. Maybe because they’re brilliant mind readers.

I’ve always been suspicious (and resentful) of people that can please everybody. It seemed to me that they were hiding their true personality beneath a million different masks. But lately I think maybe that is their personality, that maybe they’re simply the kind of person that can be in sync with everyone. It’s a pretty handy talent, and the ones that are good at it make it look effortless.

I’m not very good at that kind of thing. I’m even worse at small talk. For me, conversation for its own sake is empty fluff. I like talks that tell me more about a person, event or thing. Conversation – for me – communicates. It doesn’t fill up social space. But then again, I’m not a very social person.

I enjoy being around people I can talk to about life, love, politics, religion, sex, and not just passing words, but exchanging them in meaningful ways. I like a conversation to feel like I’m actually connecting with a person rather than idly flipping cable channels.

I suppose it’s because I spend so much time inside my head that when I get out of it, I’m eager to dive into someone else’s. Small talk is designed specifically to prevent that, to keep things comfy and superficial, to surf the safe outer levels of social interactions, which is where most people prefer to hang out.

I guess that’s why I appreciate the people in my life that let me into their deep internal spaces, the ones that feel safe enough in my presence to let me read their minds and hearts.  But it’s even more amazing when you meet a new person that can talk – really talk – without it seeming like a big deal. You might mistake them for a soul mate, even when they’re really not. That kind of person can be fun. Dangerous, but also lots of fun.

♫ Here’s to us ♫ Tori Vega ♫

In the last few weeks, I’ve had a hard time sleeping. I slump into bed exhausted, then lie there for hours, not quite asleep but barely awake. And when I do fall asleep, I wake up exhausted, even after being in bed for twelve hours. Add that to chronic headaches and I’ve been beyond cranky. The doctor did some tests and found nothing wrong, so he just gave me more codeine.

I’ve been wondering what might be causing this. It’s not quite depression, but maybe I traded in one malady for another. I’ve been through a prolonged period of stress, followed by a calm that’s bordering on ennui, and now I feel unusually anxious, even when I know nothing is wrong. My bills are paid, there’s cash in my account, my baby is fine, but I still find myself uneasy about nothing and everything.

I could blame it on hormones, claim that my daughter’s teenage hormones are influencing mine. Which would be funny, because it’s usually the other way around. Also, scary, because those teenage hormones are going to be around for a while. *shudder* Or maybe – like my dear friend says – it’s just new year angst. To which the apt response is ‘this too shall pass.’

One thing that’s particularly bothering me is gossip. There’s a thin line between genuinely discussing an acquaintance and umbenye. I didn’t realise how thin until I eavesdropped overheard a conversation between some friends of mine. They were talking about – well – me.

In any work environment, there’s a certain ‘clique-ship’. Every department hates the other departments. Marketers hate accountants for being difficult with reimbursements. Accountants hate marketers for showing up late, and faking expenses. Creatives hate everyone for ignoring their genius and blocking their muse. Everyone hates creatives for dressing badly and regularly using words like ‘muse’.

In this case, the conversation I overheard was about my work place in general and me in particular. Apparently, the other people in our building have certain … issues with us. They were upset that I wear jeans and sneakers every day while they have to wear a coat and tie. Also, I leave the office way too early (where early means 7.oo p.m. I’m usually at the office by 7.30 a.m.) They regularly stay until 10.00 or 11.00 p.m.

I can’t really complain about the stuff that was being said, because it’s all true. But something about their tone (and the fact that it was being said behind my back) was hurtful. So I walked in to confront them … only for them to continue with their conversation. If anything, they seemed even more pissed off, now that they had a flesh-and-blood target to attack.

We used to have communal photocopiers and scanners, and some of my colleagues had allegedly left their payslips there. *facepalm* So I was told – quite passionately, how unfair it was that our team earns so much more than they do, yet they work far more hours than us. I didn’t want to get defensive, so I stood there sheepishly until I could find a legitimate excuse to walk away.

It made me think of this documentary I saw on DW-TV. The guy was talking about employees at a car factory in Germany. He said they all do the same work, but have three salary scales – contract, temporary, and permanent. They perform the exact same tasks, but their pay grades vary by a factor of up to three.

It’s only natural for the contract workers to envy and resent the permanent ones, but should the permanent workers be ashamed for earning more or grateful for their good fortune? Should they question the circumstances that put them where they are and challenge the system, or make life better for the contracters?

Should all three groups pay their bills, mind their business, and let management resolve those issues? And if management miraculously finds a way to even out the pay grades, will the previously higher paid individuals feel slighted? (This is probably why people refuse to discuss what they earn in the first place. *Yoda Nod*)

The issue bugs me because I have certain friends that I avoid. I can’t match their lifestyle, so I prefer to stay away. Sadly, the way I expressed my feelings left them feeling like I resent them for being better off. I’ve always assumed they were wrong for thinking that.

But now that I’ve had my own friends ‘resent’ me for earning more, I’m starting to see things a little differently. I either stop blaming one set of friends for misconstruing my words, or I let go of my indignation at the ‘resentment’ of the other set. I can’t have it both ways. You know, having cakes and eating them and all that.

Human nature is such a weird thing. Its perspective is all skewed. The world looks entirely different when you’re doing something versus when you’re having that same thing done to you. Ideally, we should all have the ability, maturity, and sensibility to wear each other’s shoes every once in a while. But like most things in life, it’s much easier said than done. In related news…

Someone once asked me if I thought I was smart. I said yes. He said, ‘Well then, what’s the length of a piece of string?’ Of course the answer to that is, ‘It depends,’ which is really no answer at all. Similarly, when I talk about people, it’s conversation, but when they talk about me, it’s gossip. When I avoid my friends because they like places I can’t afford, it’s living within my means. When my friends get mad at me for earning more than them, it’s malice.

When my friends talk about their amazing kids, it’s bragging. When I talk about mine, it’s philosophy. It’s all about perspective, and like my friend says, there are only two types of people in the world – ‘them’ and ‘us’. Naturally, ‘their’ perspective is always more skewed than ‘ours’.

Late last year, I promised my friend I’d focus less on my weaknesses and stop talking about them. Today I’m promising myself I’ll focus less on other people’s weaknesses and stop talking about … other people’s weaknesses. Here’s the thing though – if I can’t talk about my bad points … or anyone else’s … I suppose that means I have to learn polish up my small talk. Yay? *groan*

♫ L.A Boyz ♫ Tori and Kat ♫

Soap operas are the ultimate story. There’s always something happening, and even the tiniest event becomes big drama. Real life isn’t like that. In real life, there are moments when nothing is happening, and I’m in one of those moments now.

It’s not like I’m idle. I have tons of work on my desk, and just as many chores. There are still bills to be paid, goals to achieve, laundry to do, a house that desperately needs to be cleaned. But right now, it feels like there’s nothing really urgent in my life, and nothing specific to look forward to.

I suppose it’s because the last few months have been so hectic and stressful. There were so many things hanging in the balance – drama at work, health problems, family issues. There was always something to keep me pre-occupied. Now everything has resolved itself, but I have none of the peace or excitement I expected. Instead I have this vacuum that I don’t know how to fill.

I’m going through something. I don’t know what that thing is. I tried to talk about it, but it’s hard to talk about stuff when you don’t know what that stuff is. I suppose that’s the limitation of words. They can’t describe things they can’t define. Maybe there are things in life that are simply beyond words.

I often say I’d like to have someone in my life who needs me in the exact same way that I need them. But what I’d really like is not to need anyone at all. Because if I didn’t need anyone, then I’d never be disappointed. But then again, if I didn’t need anyone,  I guess I wouldn’t be human.

I heard this speech a few weeks ago. It was at the end of an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, which I rarely watch. I remember hearing the words and feeling they expressed exactly what I felt, both then and now. When Meredith said those words, she was talking about someone she had lost. I haven’t lost anyone, but I wish I had. Because now I feel like I need someone – or something – that doesn’t really exist, and I think that hurts a lot more than finding that someone and then losing them.

There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t ’cause I thought I’d be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone, because what if you learn that you need love and you don’t have it? What if you like it and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is death ends. This? It could go on forever. – Meredith Grey, Season 7, Episode 22.

I realise that feeling alone and being alone are two different things. And I know I am surrounded by people who deeply care for me. Doesn’t really stop the feeling though, the sense of isolation, that inner niggling that no one really ‘gets you’ and no one ever will. They might like you, tolerate you, maybe even accept you, but they’ll never embrace, love, or comprehend all that you are. Real life isn’t a rom-com after all.

But then again, everyone feels that way. Maybe we all have the same unmet needs and just explore those needs in different ways. Maybe the person who pledges celibacy does it for the same reason as the one that effs anything in a skirt. Maybe they’re both afraid they’ll never find ‘the one’, and just have different ways t cope with that. Maybe deep down, I’m not really that different after all.

Religion says the only one that can truly can meet your needs – all your needs – is God. Well, I talk to God pretty often. And sometimes I wish he’d just talk back. Not in a book, or a rainbow, or in the eyes of my child. But in words, in conversations I can hear and understand. Because in times like this I feel alone, and maybe the God that created me – the one that fully understands me – is the only one that can help.

♫ The Message ♫ ColdPlay ♫