In a few days I will begin my journey into the 70s. Not the 1970s, the ages between 70 and 80.
It sounds so old!
I don’t look in magnifying
mirrors anymore. Not that I ever did. I had no use for them. But they truly
don’t reflect who I am. I’m not just a set of wrinkles, under-eye bags, dark
circles, and a scar here and there. Those things are the result of weight
gained and lost, sleepless nights and being clumsy.
And I am clumsy, both in movement
and the things I say.
When my husband and I were first
dating, I mentioned that I tend to fall up the stairs. He laughed and said no
one does that. A few weeks later I did just that, and he never again doubted
when I said something that didn’t appear to make sense on the surface. I can
also trip over nothing.
I’m clumsy in conversation, too.
While not everything that enters my brain falls out of my mouth, occasionally
that happens, and I think, “Did I say that out loud?”
While I generally engage brain
before opening mouth, sometimes something I want to say sounds fine in my head,
but when it comes back and hits my ears, I realize I didn’t phrase it quite
right. Or it sounds insulting or rude when that wasn’t the intention at all.
Sometimes someone will take
offense at something I’ve said, and even if they tell me they’re offended, they
never bother to tell me what offended them. Usually, that’s something written,
and when I look it over, I can’t find a thing that would be offensive. But perhaps
that’s because I know what I meant, and I get the intention even if it’s not on
the page.
I’m especially bad at written
word multi-tasking.
I spend entirely too much time
checking in on Facebook. Occasionally, either something to do with my computer
or with Facebook causes things to stall. If I’m in the middle of something, I
know I’ll never be able to find it if I simply close the window and start over.
So, I leave the window open and open another window with Facebook on that as
well.
Sometimes I completely forget
about the first window, but I have been known to go back and forth between two.
On a few occasions, I wrote something on the wrong thread. That’s embarrassing. Once, I even wrote
something on one thread, thought I pushed the send button (I may have, but it
was an evening of glitches, so it apparently didn’t go through) and went to the
other window. I typed a reply to what was going on there, hit send and closed
that window. Unfortunately, the second reply didn’t go where it was intended,
but was merely added onto the first reply. When I hit send, both answers were on
the same comment, and went through as one. That happened to be the window that
closed. It turned out that the snarky comment meant for the second thread, went
onto the first thread, but because the window was closed, when I returned to
Facebook, I couldn’t find it anywhere.
A whole bunch of people reading the thread between me and someone they don’t
even know, got offended. Some of them never ever comment on what I write.
They did that night, and some
haven’t spoken to me since. People tend to only see the offense and never the
apology or explanation afterward.
That’s one of those things I think, if I could go back and undo it…
Needless to say, I no longer try to multitask on Facebook. I also don’t worry about people who unfriend me – especially the ones who have to make a big announcement to make sure I know.
Regrets, I have more than a few.
I think my clumsiness in what I
say is the reason I have had many friends disappear throughout my life. I’ve watched
a few people get twitchy when I say things like, “I’ll be friends with most
people as long as they let me. Then they leave.”
Friends and acquaintances fall into
two camps. One group thinks I’m very quiet. The other wonders if I ever shut
up.
The ones who think I’m quiet are
either those who don’t know me, or people who talk over me. Why do I think they do that? No idea in the
world. Rudeness, maybe? Or perhaps I’m just invisible.
The second group are usually
people I know well. We have commonalities. If the conversation is something I’m
passionate about, like books or being left-handed, I can go on and on. It can
be quite noisy in my head, what with the ideas I have cooking for novels, blogs
or what I’m planning for a vacation.
In a group, I often find myself
trying to fight my way into a conversation. I’m there. I have an opinion or something
to say about the conversation, and I’m supposed to be part of it, but it’s
often like trying to learn how to jump in when other people are turning a jump
rope.
I’ve only recently realized I do
this – slow learner, I guess. Now, when I recognize it happening, I just stop.
They just don’t want to hear what I have to say, so why say it? Unfortunately,
when I withdraw from participation, I have difficulty continuing to follow the
conversation, and I start thinking about something else, like what I want to
add to whatever story I’m currently writing. If there’s a paper napkin around
and I have a pen, often I’ll jot it down so I don’t forget. This is when people
usually tell me I look bored. I’m not. I’m just not where they are.
I’ve tried in the past to make up
my mind beforehand to just remain quietly on the sidelines unless someone
directly asks me a question. Often, when I’ve decided to do this, it somehow
opens the floodgates and I end up talking. A lot.
I admire people who can be laid
back and calm, taking in things and then being able to quietly deliver
non-judgemental, pithy observations. I think of them as hippies. Some people
are just so sedate. I used to think you eventually got to that point when you
got older. I’m still waiting.
I’m more like the bull in a china
shop when it comes to self-expression. It’s not that I’m forcing my way in to
conversation where I don’t belong; I simply tend to verbally knock things over
while I’m waiting my turn.
When I do express myself, the
hippies often “maturesplain” things to me as if I couldn’t possibly see the
other side of the subject. I see it. I also know that, just like them, I am
entitled to my own opinion. Their explanation usually begins with the words, “You
don’t understand…”
I hate that. Generally, all it
means is, “I don’t agree with you, so let me tell you what to think.”
No point in arguing. They don’t want
to know. So I go back to my mental conversations with my characters.
Still, I keep trying to improve
myself. I would like to be that calm person – without being condescending to
people they don’t agree with. It’s just
so hard to pay attention when you’re not part of the conversation. And I’m
usually not calm.
It’s difficult to sit still. I’m
the one in the crowd chewing my pen top or bouncing my foot. I’m not impatient.
I usually don’t even realize I’m doing those things. Often those things are all
that stand between me and falling asleep.
My 10 year (assuming I live that
long) goal is to learn how to be the calm person, the one taking it all in –
which I’m usually doing – but not commenting – which I’m usually not doing.
Well, that and losing the 40 pounds I gained when I changed careers.
