I am not great at small talk. At some point during a town party or barbecue, I have an out-of-body experience, watching myself incredulously, feeling super-awkward in my attempts to play the suburban mom I am. Am I pulling it off? Do I seem to blend in? Can people really be interested in this discussion of where to find the cheapest cold-cuts? One part of my brain runs around screaming, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, small talk coming in at 3:00 o’clock!!” The other part of my brain attempts studiously to ignore that part of me, the one that wants to laugh, make a sarcastic comment or say, “With war and hunger and literature and art to discuss, are you sure you want to continue with this story about your drapes?”
I assure you, I don’t that those things out loud. I promise. But, man, do I want to. I don’t get the purpose of talking about inane, insignificant things. I like my conversations like I like my relationships: deep and interesting.
That’s why I was so stoked to find this graphic. Someone else feels this way too! I feel a little less alone in the world after finding this: