talking

The three of you that read this have probably noticed I don't post too much during the week. When I do post, I write a lot, just like I talk.

Tornwordo's blog the other day about annoying things one does, got me thinking. I do lots of things that probably bother people. Most of the time not so much that they won't speak to me again, but still.

Introspection is not new to me; I'm pretty aware of most of my flaws: I talk far too much, I like to be the center of attention, I'm a sore loser...and even a worse winner, of board games, I can be blunt to the point of rudeness, I can be far too honest when I don't have to be, I complain a lot, I can be very whiny, did I say I talk too much? I am very loud at times, and I can be quite a gossip. I brag sometimes too.

Now, none of these things are done to cause pain... well most of them aren't, yet I've had people tell me I needed to change some of them. That's fine, I expect my friends to tell me when I'm out of line. I want my friends to tell me when I'm out of line (even when they don't want the very same thing back from me... but that's another post). What's strange is which flaws seem to bug people the most; the talking too much and the complaining too much. Not the gossiping, not the poor sportsmanship, not even the bragging. Those are things I find distasteful about myself, and am trying to improve upon.

But the talking? I've been talking since I was 9 months old. Seriously, full on words at 9 months. I love words. I talk in my sleep. So much that I have friends who won't share a hotel room with me. Actually though, most think that little quirk is funny. Anyway...

Anyone who's met me, knows within the first hour that I am constantly speaking. I'm a junior high school English teacher... I talk all day long. I've been blogging only a few months, but have kept a diary or a journal since I was in the second grade. I still have that first diary. A yucky, muddy, 1972 shade of yellow, with one of those drawings of a sad kid with big eyes on the front, and "my diary" in loopy letters stamped in gold. It still has the lock (broken by my older brother) on it.

So, even when not making any noise, I was and am still talking. I don't know why. It truly is the way I am. It hasn't gotten in the way of my having some fabulous friends. People whose friendship proves to me that I can't be that bad a person, because why would someone as cool as he or she be friends with me for so long unless I had some special qualities? Remember when your mom used to say, "You have to like yourself first, before anyone else will like you"? Later, all the self-help books said you had to "Love yourself first, before you're ready to share that love with other people."

I always thought that was bullshit. I used to say to my mom, "How am I supposed to like myself if no one else does?" I still think it goes both ways. Maybe I'm not as evolved as some folk, but I always feel better about myself when I have friends. For one thing, I have a lot less time to mull over all my shortcomings.

So, back to those who have told me that they see my talking too much as a fault. I wonder why that is? Interrupting, which I also do, is bad, but just talking a lot? I have a lot to say. I'm sure everyone does, but I don't paint, nor do I invent things, or even have children to put my energy into. My art, my expression is my voice. I think out loud, and I think a lot. Sometimes I can be very boring. I know that. I've even bored myself, and that's an uncomfortable feeling, let me tell you. I tell my students "I don't need to know every thought you have the moment you are having it," when they interrupt me, but I'm sure at times I do the same thing.


What's funny right now, after reading back over what I have just written, is that it's nothing that I intended to write tonight. It's just what came out. Kind of like how I talk. I go ahead, say what I say, and go with it. Sometimes it's fruitful, and sometimes it isn't. But, it's always who I am.