Okay. Since I am so into self reflection these days, I thought it was time to look into something that I have been having an increasingly hard time participating in.
Small talk has become difficult for me. And I don’t mean that in the pretentious way where I think I am above it, and that is is a waste of time. Not at all. We can’t just automatically jump into a conversation about how the U.S. government expunged the record of numerous Nazi scientists to gain insight into things such as eugenics and mind control (it’s called Operation Paperclip look it up). It would be extremely awkward and #classless to jump right in with that. I get that. But for some reason I have socially regressed to a point where it’s hard not to just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Which unfortunately for me, is usually not the most conversation provoking or sustaining outburst of information.
I chalk a lot of this up to nervousness. Not to get too serious here, but depression and anxiety really takes a toll on the social life, as well as self esteem. For the past few years I have become a bit of a Boo Radley in many regards. I go into conversations with self doubt and this in turn leads me to blurt out strange statements, sans any kind of normal transitions.
At the retirement community I work at, I sometimes forget how to make small talk with the elderly. My go to question has become “so, where were you when JFk died?” Although many find this charming, and it leads to a drawn out and highly detailed albeit fascinating story, some people do not find it quite as endearing.
I have a tendency to say things that are dark. The other day I told my friend that if I didn’t get an A on the final, that I would lock my entire class in the classroom and set the building ablaze. I like to tell people nitty gritty details about my mental instability, completely unprompted. The other day a casual acquaintance said that I was looking good and that it appears as if I lost some weight. I then told her that I had. She asked me what my secret was and I said that it was a combination of intense seasonal depression and the subsequent lack of hunger induced starvation that comes along with it. She had a visceral reaction to this answer and she looked like she would get into a car with members of Isis if it meant escaping the conversation.
I’m not quite sure where I was going with all of this, but what I do know is that it is hard not to dive straight into childhood traumas and health issues. The majority of my friends /casual acquaintances could probably tell you specific details about my overactive bladder problems.
I appreciate everyone that is endeared by these personality quirks, and for everyone that isn’t, that’s fine too. I think one of my goals for the future will be to engage in conversations that do not somehow circulate back to drastic scenarios, conspiracy theories, and strange overly dramatized medical symptoms. A bitch has gotta make some progress.