Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Word Weary

The meeting lasted most of the day. The man talked most of the day. At times, I was talking to myself just to hear another voice (even if it was silent). At times, I was reprimanding me, "Listen. Don't wander. Ask about his wife. He likes to talk about his wife . . . and his daughter . . . and his work . . . and his country . . . and his . . . "

At the end of the day, I realized he never once asked me a question. He couldn't tell a soul a thing about me other than what I do for a living. At the end of the day, I knew I'd tried to be culturally sensitive, tried to learn from him as well as share learning. At the end of the day, I was tired.

3 comments:

beholdhowfree said...

I TOTALLY know the person you are talking about. Well, maybe not the actual person, but I have met him many times in my life. I have come to finally conclude...most people really don't care about anyone else. They only want to talk about themselves. The people I hang out with are the exception, not the rule.

k said...

Word feast.......today I crossed the line between living as 50 and checking out what those young upstarts are about in this blogging thing--all because a friend said, "I think you'd like what she has to say...." So I perused the table, and popped a little treat into my mouth, and giggled, then hunger juices squirting, quickly scanned and lifted napkin covers...stainless covers keeping warm the banquet beneath, popping larger morsels into my mouth before I pulled up a chair for support while relying on my large arm span to gather in as much as I could at one sitting...pausing with mouth full to consider, "I could never cook like this!", feeling sad at how quickly a feast could be ruined by my self-absorbed comparisons, then back to grabbing larger chunks of really good stuff to chew on, and swallow, ready to allow the nourishment to take its time to strengthen bones and sinews for risk. So with crumbs and grease stains across my lap, I sit back, belly bulging, mouth moustached with milk and honey, and emit a ladylike burp behind my cupped hand....when what I really want to do is belch loud and with abandon, proclaiming "I get to visit this table again!" Who knew I was so famished...

It is with considerable appreciation that I accept your kind invitation to dine....

KC said...

Well! Amen and amen again. Pull up a chair anytime. Sometimes the menu is fairly sparse and sometimes the table looks like Grandma's on Sunday with everyone's favorites displayed. But come feast or famine you are most welcome to ENJOY!