Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Speaking of Chatting...

I was hanging out with a friend of mine today and she commented on the fact that she likes to hang out with me because of the steady stream of talking I tend to keep up. I didn't take offense, because I know that I talk a lot, especially when I'm around my friends. It did get me to thinking about talking, though.
I learned to talk, my mother tells me, well before my second birthday, and didn't stop until I was probably 12. Then I went through a phase where I barely talked to anyone but the few friends I had at school. I became introverted and isolated, on purpose really, because I had a low self-esteem. I still have self-esteem issues, but nothing horrible. But all this leads up to the fact that there was a point in my life where I learned more than talking.
There was a certain point, and I think it was when I was in Greece this past summer, where I learned to do more than talk. I learned to converse and be at ease with people in what I said. I stopped worrying so much what people thought about me and just enjoyed the back and forth of a fun conversation. It was almost non-stop through the trip, and I found myself always coming up with new things to talk about.
It's a trait that has continued into my every-day life now. I find that if someone says the right thing and is willing to chat, I will go on forever. And I love it. It doesn't bother me a bit. I don't feel self-conscious or awkward at all. It's a glorious feeling, my friends.
Now I've got to put it to good use tomorrow with the tire boy ;-].

Wednesday, September 08, 2010

On a Gloomy Day

I'm feeling very indie and light today, despite my lack of sleep, and so I decided to share a good poem I read today. It's not the happiest of poems, but I like the imagery it provides.

Acquainted with the Night
Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Friday, September 03, 2010

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

I noticed that my last few posts have been rather dark, or gray, in subject matter, and since today is a particularly cloudy day as it is, I thought I would brighten the mood with some light chit-chat. Unfortunately, I haven't much to chat about. I'm sitting alone in a coffee shop waiting for my next class to start. But it's an interesting people-watching moment:
A mother with two children and a laptop sits by the fireplace, where usually an artificial fire would be glowing and dancing in the shadows. She reprimands her toddler with a gentle voice and goes back to her screen. People filter in and out like grains of sand through a sieve. A woman to the left and behind me has been here longer than I, hard at work on her middle-aged degree, no doubt laboring for children unseen or a family in turmoil. Another woman, farther left, in a black dress with brightly colored stitching that is far younger than she, works eagerly on her computer. I can see energy in every movement she makes, an eagerness that is not to be taken lightly. Surely she has an important job.
The man in front of me is interesting as well. He is wearing a shirt advertising a youth program, subtle but eye-catching. The book he is reading is orange and looks to be non-fiction, perhaps a self-help or philosophy. They are all middle-aged, respectable-looking people. I feel out of place, a teenager in a grown-up world.
The man in front of me surprises me by apologizing for his phone conversation, which I hadn't noticed in the first place, and leaving to make his further calls. His politeness is astonishing in a world where we are subjected to constant rudeness and inconsiderate behavior.
These people are gathered around me, and although I do not know their names, where they come from, what they like or dislike...I still feel as if I know them. There is a quality about them and me, about this place, that knits us together and makes us forget our regular lives. A feeling of warmth and comraderey that we seem to have forgotten in our world.
And to think, it's only just a coffee shop.