(no subject)
I'm reading Coupland's The Gum Thief written in a journal/letter format which I hate. Tonight I caught myself wondering, how is it that these fictitious characters have such vibrant or dynamic monologues, and what kinda schizo Coupland must be to come up with all these voices and letters in his head. And mostly, I wondered why I don't sound fun and exciting like that.
And that probably sounds more pathetic than it is. It's just something I wonder because I'm still finding my feet at work and I hardly speak unless it's work related. I think at some point, I lost my social skills because I spend too much time doing this or writing to communicate, or it's too hard to relate to people, especially when for some weird reason, I seem to not share the same common interests as most?
Not that I set out to be like that. Someone at work found my iTunes library and when he found out who I was, we chatted for a bit about music, and then it kinda petered off into awkward silence. My locomotive partner (I just coined that because he talks too much) was going on about some song called The Big Spender or something by Shelly whatever, some jazz singer I think. He was between amused and shock that I don't know the song. I didn't even make a big deal out of it as he did from me not knowing, it was just, yeah so? with me. I didn't see any reason why I ought to have known the song so I didn't react to his reaction, it was just, I don't know, totally beneath my notice or radar. I don't even feel like I've missed out on something here. Then the other day he was going on about some Aussie movie called The Castle and, I don't know.
It's kinda like being in primary school and there's this kid in the group who cracks the jokes or brandish some knowledge and makes it a point of, what, you don't know? How can you not? Everybody knows ...
That's what it's like to me, and I just can't be bothered. It doesn't feature in my world view.
Am I excusing myself? Perhaps. Who knows.
Yup, I wished I could write like Coupland. Instead, it's just me and my neurosis.
And that probably sounds more pathetic than it is. It's just something I wonder because I'm still finding my feet at work and I hardly speak unless it's work related. I think at some point, I lost my social skills because I spend too much time doing this or writing to communicate, or it's too hard to relate to people, especially when for some weird reason, I seem to not share the same common interests as most?
Not that I set out to be like that. Someone at work found my iTunes library and when he found out who I was, we chatted for a bit about music, and then it kinda petered off into awkward silence. My locomotive partner (I just coined that because he talks too much) was going on about some song called The Big Spender or something by Shelly whatever, some jazz singer I think. He was between amused and shock that I don't know the song. I didn't even make a big deal out of it as he did from me not knowing, it was just, yeah so? with me. I didn't see any reason why I ought to have known the song so I didn't react to his reaction, it was just, I don't know, totally beneath my notice or radar. I don't even feel like I've missed out on something here. Then the other day he was going on about some Aussie movie called The Castle and, I don't know.
It's kinda like being in primary school and there's this kid in the group who cracks the jokes or brandish some knowledge and makes it a point of, what, you don't know? How can you not? Everybody knows ...
That's what it's like to me, and I just can't be bothered. It doesn't feature in my world view.
Am I excusing myself? Perhaps. Who knows.
Yup, I wished I could write like Coupland. Instead, it's just me and my neurosis.