Sunday, April 29, 2007

affecting the effect of conversation

Anyone can tell you what interesting thing happened to them last Tuesday, they can tell you what they ate for lunch two hours ago, they can tell you why they chose to wear a purple hat with a large brown plume that tilts to the left, or they can tell you all about how they ended up in this very spot talking to you. However, there is a skill that one must possess when telling these little diddies. I prefer to think of it as an art. It's known as the art of story-telling (with which I'm sure you are familiar). And in this latest phase of my "oh so fabulous" (HA) life, I learn that fewer and fewer people are skilled story-tellers.

I guess after spending the second half of my university (sounds more fancy than college) career in workshops critiquing, analyzing, admiring, sneering, and scoffing at other people's work I developed a true disdain for the unnecessary. I, in fact, became rather candid about my dislike for unnecessary information during these workshops. It's something that I religiously tried to keep from doing in my own work. While I do believe that back story has relevance and is often needed to understand the tale ahead, I do not need to know every single detail.

Hmmm detail. It's important to pepper a a tale with detail, but there is a limit, I believe. I've encountered a number of stories as of late--most presumably a result of people being in their twenties and wanting to do nothing other than talk of themselves (is this not the narcissistic nature of my blog as well? yeeeeesss). These gruesome moments have unfortunately required my ears to become exposed to every nuance of their life. I'm forced to know why they think this or that about global warming, why they have or have not reacted to an odd phone call from last night, how long they have known about the mold growing in their bathtub, the t-shirt they were wearing when they began the sixth grade, what their dentist smells like...I'm beginning to exaggerated but I'm finding that people are so fixated on filling me in that the initial thought becomes lost (both by me--because I stop listening and by them). They have veered so far from their point that I don't care anymore and often become frustrated with them and their happening.

I'm pretty much saying discretion should be used more often. Invidiuals should really select their topics with choice. And any skilled linguist knows you can certainly veer off topic, but be smart about it, know how to jump but be able to keep your
audience engaged or know how to bring them right back to your original thought. It's really a skill. I have a habit of jumping off topic (just read this blog), but I think with each entry I'm learning how to keep your interest and not bore you with insignificant detail. It goes without saying (or not)I'm not interested in why you are crying about the cost of sprouted wheat bread when we're talking about why you haven't called your best friend in over thirty days.

1 comment:

Amanda said...

So I woke up at 8, and I felt oddly refreshed. I drank my green goop that you're so fond of, but I had to stir it with a knife since all of the spoons were dirty. I performed my morning rituals and headed to school to study. Weighed down by my backpack I stumbled into Jumpin Java and stumbled out with coffee in hand. Unfortunately, a drop landed on my blue pants. I made my way to the underground muni where I didn't have to wait very long for the next train, but there was this guy playing music from his cell phone. I mean, really? Ugh! Anyways, all the seats on the cars were taken, so I stood there, listening to Massive Attack, sipping my coffee, and people watching. There was this girl who was really anxious to get off; I think she must have been claustrophobic the way she was hugging the door. But yeah, the coffee stain on my pants is bugging me.