If you were in my head (maybe you wouldn’t have to listen to me prattle on)

Everything seemed a bit brighter yesterday, with the dubious exception of the sky. Even a visit to the phlebotomist didn’t freak me out. And not for the first time it occurred to me.
I’m turning into that person who comes out with pointless stories to a bored nurse, who makes highly awkward jokey comments to strangers in lifts, and who is starting to have a very boring set of stories that seem to want to be told to total strangers serving at the shop counter. Didn’t they want to hear about the time I nearly passed out donating 50ml of blood? Don’t they want to know about when the lift broke down? The young girl in the pharmacy didn’t seem to want to know about my highly sexy postnasal drip…

In short, I am turning into my Dad.

I’ve spent years cringing as he goes on about repetitive stories that he obviously find terribly funny and witty, if not informative, and I’ve often sat there wondering why his subconscious doesn’t tell him, after one telling, to shut up. Now I see that one’s subconscious saying “come on,  this is fucking boring, they don’t care, stop talking” doesn’t actually have power over the momentum. Its too late, the floodgates are open and out spews some poorly executed anecdote, or sarcasm (I’m not nearly as skilled as father dearest with stories). As I get older, the control is getting  less, I’m caring less that the person I’m talking to is looking the other way, searching for the panic button….

Its only a matter of time before I start telling you all the same thing over and over as if it’s the best thing I’ve ever said. Oh wait…that’s pretty much my blog right? Bugger!

Well I’m on to you genetic and environmental predisposition to oversharing in awkward and unnecessary situations…and the only way I can think to tackle the issue is to come off prozac and wake up that layer of semiconsciousness that reasons verbally with myself. I skipped a couple of doses and found myself having a pretty good train of thought on my cycle ride to work, but the meds damp that shit down, I normally have just intangible subconscious and then whatever comes out of my mouth, nothing inbetween. I kind of miss having conversations in my head with myself..it certainly prevented and unwanted verbal leakages! But at what cost? Sometimes those internal discussions go awry….

No, I know what you said
But that doesn’t mean that I understand
And you don’t know what I meant by that


6 thoughts on “If you were in my head (maybe you wouldn’t have to listen to me prattle on)

  1. My sympathies. Myself– because of course our egocentric tendencies have to intrude on moments of pure empathy –I think I was made imperfectly for this world…

  2. Sorry babe, I’m having a dense moment (not had any coffee today), can you explain why you think you were imperfectly made for this world?

    Also – I hope the sympathies were not because I’m an intolerable bore…

  3. Jennifer says:

    I’ve heard it described as having “no filter,” though I think that applies more to blurting out insensitive comments. I have a personal rule that I never say anything the moment a thought occurs to me. First, I think to myself, “would saying this be stupid?” Works like a charm, and the truth is, no one’s hanging on your every word to the extent that they can’t wait two seconds for you to apply the filter! 🙂

    • honestly, if I asked myself and really considered if what i was going to say would be stupid – I don’t think I’d ever open my mouth. Unfortunately I’m kind of all or nothing – I either keep everything inside and don’t communicate, or I start behaving as I described in the post. I have trouble keeping my mouth shut and my brain can’t seem to keep up. I don’t usually make insensitive comments, just pointless and banal, like I’m desperate to day something interesting and cool, but actually don’t have anything of that sort to say, so just whatever occurs to me comes out….:S

  4. Like most things in life, I believe that such ego-centric burdens as this inane babbling to strangers are, in fact, piqued by anxiety issues and the insatiable desire to be liked (though y’know, I totally don’t care, cos I’m anti-establishment (weirdo), independent (antisocial)..and chilled (actually freaking the fuck out)).

  5. Ha! Soon we’ll all be babbling at strangers and turning into our parents. Better that then holding everything in…or maybe not. Everything is equally bad.

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