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“