Why do people like to talk to me? All day long, where ever I am people seek me out to tell me things. They talk and talk and talk. They tell me about their kids, they talk about their co-workers, they complain about their bosses and they detail their daily activities. My days are one long interruption by people who think I want to listen to every thing they have to say. They don’t even know I’m never listening. I’m always thinking about something else mostly because their stories are so boring.
Is it because I have developed the art of fake listening? I know when to nod, when to grunt some sort of response and I look at them (although I’m actually looking behind them over their right shoulders.)
If I told people I had no interest in them and only wanted to spend my time doing my own thing and concentrating on my own amazing thoughts, do you think they’d get mad? I wonder if I’d care if they got mad.
Can we make Wordless Wednesday a day where no one says any words to me? I always wanted to be a hermit. I’m getting back to liking this idea.
Total words needed to stay on track: 13336
Total word count to date: 13497
And I’m already cranking after eight days; this aught to be a great month.