So They Say

And they do blather a great deal, yet have so little meaning to their words.

I speak with a lot of people in a lot of different places, about a lot of different topics, across a multitude of mediums.

I have to admit that the most…er…entertaining conversations that I’ve had are those with complete strangers at the venues where I go to see live music in the Austin, TX metro.

They never fail to leave me scratching my head as I try desperately to come up with some valid reason to excuse myself from their conversational clutches.

I’ve never had any problem striking up or carrying on any conversation with anyone when it comes to exploring any topic…

…however…

Texans, I have learned (the hard way), LOVE to talk…about anything, at any decibel, for any length of time.

The primary element missing from their verbosity is direction. These “discussions” weave in every which way with no interest or purpose or end in sight.

This pattern that I’ve noticed has turned into some sticky web in which I find myself constantly ensnared isn’t necessarily fueled by alcohol, as one would believe would be the case.

Sometimes it is and I give that its credence. Though, I find comfort in having some valid excuse as to WHY these idiots feel the need to share every sordid detail of their life with me as they do.

Copious amounts of booze would stand to reason.

Most of the time, I thankfully am expected to contribute little in the form of response.

You see, these people aren’t interested in conversing. There’s never an apparent desire from them to exchange thoughts, for them to hear mine, nor are they remotely interested in walking away having been informed of something that perhaps hadn’t previously known or something interesting that they’ll consider at a later time.

No, they just wanna talk. I’d say that they just want someone listen to the story that’s just bubbling to burst out of them, but I’m not even sure that they’d care.

In high school, my teachers used to refer to this as “verbal diarrhea”.

Somehow, someway, in their eyes I seem to be the ideal person to unload their lives onto.

One conversation that I recently and very reluctantly found myself in was with a couple that appeared so happy, as to have potentially have just walked off an Up with People stage production.

Ugh.

The Reader’s Digest (condensed) version preached by them was thus: “Everything’s good!”.

Okay.

Out of morbid curiosity and the feeling of a polite captive to their questionable philosophy, I listened to why they lived their life believing that everything is just fine…or that it will be.

On the face of that immediate and trite sentiment, I thought to myself: “Oh, geezus. ‘Everything is great’. No, it isn’t. This world sucks. It’s a sucking wound of despair. A clogged toilet. There is nothing GOOD about it”.

Yet, their take was all about the attitude and perspective that one takes. That – unless a situation kills you – there is always something that can be fixed; another job to be had if one is lost, another love to follow a broken relationship.

Well…okay, I can buy that…to a point.

And I gave a great deal of thought to the path of unicorns farting rainbows that they travel in their happy little world.

How long can that type of attitude and living be sustainable?

And what is actually WRONG with believing or grasping that things are just downright bad on occasion…because they can be and they are?

Is the ultimate difference between them and me self-awareness? Is it them being “optimists” and me being a “realist”?

It absolutely is, and there is nothing wrong with either perspective…except this…

Life continuously viewed through rose-colored glasses will almost always assuredly be revealed to be less than beautiful.

That stark revelation to reality will be too much for some to bear, let alone combat or live with.

Repeating my mantra: the world is to be approached in equal balance of good and bad, dark and light, fairness and injustice.

Likened to any addiction, too much of one or the other can thrust lives into chaos for which there is little hope of recovery.

Realism countered with optimism is the line I always fight to maintain.

Sometimes I fail at that. When I do, I take inventory and regroup.