On the daily
“Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out loud.” ~Hermann Hesse
In third grade I told my teacher – Mr. Horan – that his pants were ‘tacky’ because I had confused ‘tacky’ with ‘khaki’ and apparently the two are not the same. Which reminds me of the day that he brought in an ultrasound picture of his son (Who I saw recently and I’ve suddenly aged like 14 years, which is probably the reason for the grays.) and I told him that it looked like a seashell, but how I came up with that is beyond me, but I was 7.
There was the time that I called my father a ‘son of a bitch’ in a joking fashion over a bottle of grape soda that he had hidden in the pantry. Though unlike Mr. Horan, el padre didn’t enjoy the words coming out of his 7 or 8 year old daughter’s mouth and decided to remove my lips from my face with his bare hands and since then I haven’t called anyone a son of a bitch.
Sometimes it’s a general spewing of things and even when I really think about what I want to say before actually saying it, I end up catatonic. Thus I rarely like to speak unless I’m fairly sure of what I’m saying before I say it. Which is why I tend to fare better at writing things out than actually speaking, but even then things don’t work very well, though actually it goes both ways given that I find the sound of my own voice akin to the noise that a fork makes when scraped along someone’s front teeth. So I end up sitting in rather durr-like fashion muttering to myself, possibly rocking back and forth and realizing that that didn’t go as well as I hoped.
Really though, I’m actually getting used to it. I plan to have lots of cats to talk to and maybe a dog. They won’t judge.
Labels: Socially awkward Barbie™