Conversational Play
Watching a conversation play itself out is one of the more mentally exhausting things I do. I get the feeling that most people actually do this kind of thing without any thinking at all, but I've never been able to do it spontaneously.
After about a minute of staring (it has to be visual; I can't do it in realtime at all), I suddenly see the people cascade into nodes and vectors, swarming in one direction while one person is talking, making feints and probes and creating openings and offerings... and then the other person starts up and some of the hooks are taken and others are ignored and the domain transforms a little and...
and.. and.. geez. It's not the content of the conversation that fascinates me, here, but the style of it. I mean, it's all vapid, phatic communication, which is cool, but the nuance and detail that can be perceived is staggering. A volley of humor digging in, an offer to help, a little bit of self-description, an offer to connect, a subtle suggestion, a gesture of respect, and so on and so on. Very tiny. Very subtle. Most of which isn't consciously analyzed by the other person, but tweaks his brain in different ways with each little touch.
It's beautiful.
People learn this somehow. It's a skill I've never acquired. There is such sincerity in his voice as he writes; I know that if I were to say something remotely similar it would sound as artificial as it is. That's not my mode of dialogue, and that's not how I relate with people or with the world. If I try to do the same kind of thing, I feel like I'm bringing a sledgehammer to a knife fight.
I wish I had that kind of finesse and grace. I'm naturally long-winded, and when I go for conciseness, it sounds curt and brusque and sometimes arrogant. I don't catch onto the internal rhythm that undergirds the ebb and flow of conversation. It makes me feel half a step behind the world, heh. It doesn't help that I never feel like there's anything I can offer.
I mean, I try. And sometimes I do okay. But it's so hard!
The way I see other people do it... it's just amazing.
Ah, well. *dips toe in*
After about a minute of staring (it has to be visual; I can't do it in realtime at all), I suddenly see the people cascade into nodes and vectors, swarming in one direction while one person is talking, making feints and probes and creating openings and offerings... and then the other person starts up and some of the hooks are taken and others are ignored and the domain transforms a little and...
and.. and.. geez. It's not the content of the conversation that fascinates me, here, but the style of it. I mean, it's all vapid, phatic communication, which is cool, but the nuance and detail that can be perceived is staggering. A volley of humor digging in, an offer to help, a little bit of self-description, an offer to connect, a subtle suggestion, a gesture of respect, and so on and so on. Very tiny. Very subtle. Most of which isn't consciously analyzed by the other person, but tweaks his brain in different ways with each little touch.
It's beautiful.
People learn this somehow. It's a skill I've never acquired. There is such sincerity in his voice as he writes; I know that if I were to say something remotely similar it would sound as artificial as it is. That's not my mode of dialogue, and that's not how I relate with people or with the world. If I try to do the same kind of thing, I feel like I'm bringing a sledgehammer to a knife fight.
I wish I had that kind of finesse and grace. I'm naturally long-winded, and when I go for conciseness, it sounds curt and brusque and sometimes arrogant. I don't catch onto the internal rhythm that undergirds the ebb and flow of conversation. It makes me feel half a step behind the world, heh. It doesn't help that I never feel like there's anything I can offer.
I mean, I try. And sometimes I do okay. But it's so hard!
The way I see other people do it... it's just amazing.
Ah, well. *dips toe in*