The Art of Conversation. I’m no Master. I’m not a complete starving artist, but I definitely fail to cash in, particularly at the close of my artful conversation showings. I’m the actress that gets trapped in the falling curtain. The runaway converse cargo train, trailing off in the distance… Er. Um. Gorbanshtince?
Leaving people to often question, “Did she, just speak English?”
It’s more of a quirk, less of a curse. It’s just how I’m wired. I’ve semi learned to accept it. Slowly make strides to improve it. My small talk skills are decent. I can volley back and forth, but it’s in the wrap up, the blasted wrap up, that my words get tossed into a garbled blender of god knows what alien language.
Those witty punch lines people dispense while parting ways? Broken robot melt down.
“Ha! Ok, You too. I hope this day hurries up! This whole week seemed like took forever. And hope your weekend nice turns out relaxed family. Spend time with…Err… buzz…clink…clonk…sssss. ”
I walk away, accepting the fail of my phonological fumble. Usually, I just laugh. What else is there to do, really? The banal banter is just not one of my strengths.
“How’s things? “ Great, You? “Great. Still doing things?” Yes. Things are still being done.“Great. Been to places?” Several. You? “Many. Thanks. Take it easy!” You too! Looking forward to the next time we fill two minutes talking about nothing and assuring the other is still breathing.
It’s kind of draining sometimes, isn’t it? I have a wicked habit of just throwing random thoughts into play that have no business being injected. This happens with friends, family, and strangers alike. My dork diction does not discriminate. I’d like to think it’s my awkward attempt to breaking the mold of the controlled scripted convo, but I’m probably kidding myself.
I’m not completely socially inept. Sometimes it’s smooth sailing. Sometimes, it’s a tangled train wreck of vocal vomit. I’ve sort of learned to embrace the uncomfortable drifting trail of nonsensical words, the awkward laughs between, the butchered banter, the mush mouth malfunction, but there’s always that consequent cringe that follows a convo misfire. Pow!…. Er . clink. clonk. ssss…. cringe.