The Weekly Confessional
Running life of late has been fairly mundane. After the rain run, I've just been plugging away on the miles with one marathon pace run of 9 miles that went extraordinarily well, except that I don't think I have any hope of running that pace on a hilly Knoxville course.
I've decided to start the weekly confessional. By nature I hold most of my thoughts, feelings and emotions close to the vest. I feel the need to share to this obscure world of nothingness, where I'm not sure if people (besides my husband) actually read these insipid posts.
This week's confession: I hate small talk. Hate may be a strong word, but it's the only feeling that can truly express the ire I feel for the mundane conversations of the every day. I dread Monday mornings because I know that once I walk into the office I know I'll be confronted with the hollow "How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?" from no less than five people. God forbid I see someone I know on the walk from the train station or in the elevator on the way to the office. Both of these venues serve as an unfortunate forced catalyst for tiny conversations. Often times I wonder what life would be like without the "how was your vacations?" Probably the result would be a wealth of what some people perceive as uncomfortable silence through which they could no longer mask bodily utterances and such. It's easy to slip in a burp in the amidst the muttering of small talk. I'm certain some bit of flatulence has been facilitated and disregarded during one of these exchanges with a mere clearing of the throat. I suppose I could have people avoid small talk with me personally (but many people avoid me in general anyways, because I'm not much of a talker) by answering their questions too honestly. When they ask "how was your weekend?" I could respond with, "it was okay except that my hemorrhoids are acting up again - real pain in the butt." I fully understand the intent behind the questions and menial conversations, but it's just another tedious part of life that we must somehow endure.
I've decided to start the weekly confessional. By nature I hold most of my thoughts, feelings and emotions close to the vest. I feel the need to share to this obscure world of nothingness, where I'm not sure if people (besides my husband) actually read these insipid posts.
This week's confession: I hate small talk. Hate may be a strong word, but it's the only feeling that can truly express the ire I feel for the mundane conversations of the every day. I dread Monday mornings because I know that once I walk into the office I know I'll be confronted with the hollow "How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?" from no less than five people. God forbid I see someone I know on the walk from the train station or in the elevator on the way to the office. Both of these venues serve as an unfortunate forced catalyst for tiny conversations. Often times I wonder what life would be like without the "how was your vacations?" Probably the result would be a wealth of what some people perceive as uncomfortable silence through which they could no longer mask bodily utterances and such. It's easy to slip in a burp in the amidst the muttering of small talk. I'm certain some bit of flatulence has been facilitated and disregarded during one of these exchanges with a mere clearing of the throat. I suppose I could have people avoid small talk with me personally (but many people avoid me in general anyways, because I'm not much of a talker) by answering their questions too honestly. When they ask "how was your weekend?" I could respond with, "it was okay except that my hemorrhoids are acting up again - real pain in the butt." I fully understand the intent behind the questions and menial conversations, but it's just another tedious part of life that we must somehow endure.
posted by runninchick at 8:44 PM
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