bad at talking

I realised tonight that I have a long way to go when it comes to learning how to talk to people. I always feel awkward talking to people I'm friends with, but whom I don't see on a daily basis. I have a set of stock phrases: the usual yeahs, uh-huhs, oh cools, that sucks, and laughter. Then some random strange things to make people laugh, and a stock list of philosophies and beliefs for intelligent conversation. Once those things are exausted, or a situation comes up where none of them apply as responses, I panic. I either end up standing there, staring stupidly and rocking on my heels, or I think of something I needed to do and run off. This probably isn't normal. It's damn sure frustrating, too, 'cause there are a lot of people I'd like to talk to if only I had the ability. At least it's not as bad as it used to be.

I used to have a large collection of unaddressed letters saved up before I moved out of my parents' house and they got thrown away. They were written in reply to similar letters I had given to people I saw every day, just because I wasn't able to discuss serious matters in any form other than writing. I went through a lot of paper in those days. I still sort of have that problem, just not as badly. I'm slowly learning how to become a normal person. The people I meet sort of help with that, but it's still a long, long road to travel, filled with all manner of potholes and speed bumps and all that. I don't know if I'll ever get to the end of that particular road, but I'm going to try. I never understood the people who get dependant on therapy as a means of recovery for all sorts of social and emotional problems. It's so much more meaningful when you fix the problem yourself.

Sweets for the Sweet was fun. I got to play CD putton-pushing monkey for the dancers, and hang out with fun people (most of whom I couldn't really talk to properly, damn). Then I later made the discovery that I know a bit more about Japanese culture and history than I initially thought. I'm by no means an expert, but I know enough to argue with Burr. Maybe that's no great accomplishment. Eh.

Patience... my thoughts are locked in a box within me. They escape, slowly, only through rhythmic scratching and tapping, blind and mute, only speaking Morse...