Small Talk

Sometimes I wonder if I have Aspergers.  I am not trying to make light of what I know can be a devastating condition which people struggle with daily.  However, my social ineptitude occasionally causes me to wonder if I fall somewhere on the barely discernible end of the Aspergers spectrum.  Or, perhaps it's just that I'm a writer.  Writers tend to be hermits; great at observing and analyzing human behavior, but often completely incapable of joining in human conversations or interactions. Just call me Emily Dickinson.......ok........Emily Dickinson with a tiny fraction of the talent.  I can usually think of witty, meaningful, entertaining and relatable things to say when I have a pen or keyboard at hand.  However, when I am standing face to face with another person, there is often a gaping, awkward silence at my end of the conversation.  Large groups of women frankly terrify me.  I tend to stand in a corner and listen to the conversation unfolding while I try to wipe the clammy sweat off my hands and make sure my breath doesn't smell like the onions from my dinner.  I attempt to laugh when everyone else laughs, and try to look, for all intents and purposes, normal.  I try to fit in.  But that's the thing......I am constantly trying.  I have always envied those women who seem to have charming, witty anecdotes about a myriad of topics, which roll off their tongue in an effortless manner.  I am a deep thinker.  I believe this goes hand in hand with being a writer.  I know this may sound odd, but I would be perfectly happy to do nothing but stare at a wall and think all day long.  I usually have thoughts about the meaning of life, the duality of human nature, the state of the economy, the decaying world in which I am supposed to raise my children, or any number of other topics, rambling around in the recesses of my mind.  But more often than not, when I try to strike up a conversation with someone, I end up talking about.........the weather.  Seriously.  I cannot begin to tell you how many conversations I have begun using phrases like, "How about that sunshine", or ,"Do you think it will actually rain one of these days?"  Pathetic, isn't it?  But weather is something we all relate to. It is something we are all familiar with and deal with on a daily basis.  Plus, the few times I have tried to bring up the state of the economy or the duality of human nature with a group of women, I have been greeted with blank stares and a quick change of topic to Victoria Beckham's latest hairstyle.  Apparently large groups of women don't like to have deep discussions.  I have a few friends with whom I can discuss meaningful topics.  They don't look at me like I'm Rain Man when I tell them I was just wondering about Newton's third law of motion or that I just read the most interesting article about the unintentional war on boys in America.  They are genuinely curious to know what I think, and they add their own unique and much appreciated perspective to the conversation.

     I love that I have friends whom I can really talk to, not just talk at.  I hate small talk.  I have discovered, as a mother, however, that I really enjoy talking to small people.  This is a form of "small talk" I actually enjoy.  I think it is because children are naturally curious about the world around them.  My children have so many questions about how the world works that it brings out my own natural curiosity and thirst for learning.  When you're with kids, it's not nerdy to learn about outer space and dinosaurs.  It puts you right up there on the coolest mom list......or so my kids tell me.  Now, I'm not saying that I don't occasionally (occasionally meaning anywhere from 1 to 100 times daily) get tired of the relentless questions.  But, by the time my five-year-old asks me for the tenth time how large a pteranodon's average wing span was or  how much bigger a mastodon would be than an elephant (see- boys are obsessed with size from a very young age), I begin to wonder myself just how big those things were.  Then, like any good mom, I Google it.  I think I have learned more (perhaps useless) facts as a mother than I ever did when I was in school.  As I sit with my children and look at art history books or read about customs of countries around the world, it can be a learning experience for all of us.  Talking to kids all day forces you to think and to discover.  Another reason I love talking to kids is because they don't put up any false pretences, so I don't feel like I need to.  There's no filter there.  Kids don't fret about whether or not their question is going to make them appear ignorant.  They just ask it.  And children are rarely opinionated.  There are some adults I can barely talk to, not because I am socially inept, but because these certain adults happen to know everything about everything and they are determined to make sure everyone knows it.  These conversations, if I am unfortunate enough to get trapped in one, involve a whole different kind of desperate silence, a lot of glances around the room to try and discern the quickest escape route, and enough head nodding to cause a small case of whiplash.  Children usually aren't know it alls.  But they want to know it all.  And I love trying to learn it all with them.  I like to get out with friends, and sometimes I honestly need a break from the little people.  But, many of my memories with groups of friends bring back feelings of anxiety (with occasional bouts of nausea) over what to wear, what to say, how to laugh, how to sneeze, how to breathe, how to fit in.........thoughts of , "don't blow it this time,Shannon."  On the contrary, many of my happiest memories involve days at home with sweat pants and wet frizzy hair, stacks of library books and two curious learners on either side of me, waiting with wide eyes for what I will read next.  I am definitely not swearing off my girl's nights out, here.  And perhaps I can even try to improve my conversational skills to the point where I can move to topics somewhere in between the weather and the meaning of life.  But, I am grateful to know that there will always be at least three people who will laugh at my jokes, who are just as curious as I am about that big world out there, and who always keep me entertained with their very own form of small talk.