I do a lot of driving to and from school, and as a result, I have a lot of time to just sit and think. I will tell you I have some strange thoughts while I’m on the road. During rainy days, I’ve probably had every thought there is to have about windshield wipers

Well, today I had another one of my long drives, and at some point on my way to school I became incredibly angry. I realized:

What happened to the lost art of conversation?

No one really just talks to each other anymore. Everything has gotten so incredibly passive. It’s a link –to-an-email-to-a-phone-number-to –a-text-message-to-Go-knows-what-else. Where does a real “hello” fit in? It’s basically gotten to the point that when I do have good conversation with people I’m so cracked out on joy it’s unhealthy. I’d probably pass up dinner and dancing to fuck the brains out of the first person to offer a satisfying in-person dialogue. Where did we go wrong as a society?

Example A: Instant messaging. Maybe I’m just not cut out for all this technology business because I’d rather be tapping away at a dusty typewriter or even scratching with a quill. But I just hate it. My issue is that I can’t lower my standards from those of normal conversation, yet there are the awkward pauses. So while a “normal” person by today’s standards can type something on the screen and wait twenty five minutes for a response, my reaction is “why aren’t they responding? was it my tone of voice?”

Yes, tone
I think about my tone of voice over instant messenger.
Because I just can’t help it. I can’t change my mode of behavior. So the entire process of talking to someone online becomes a torturous game of me struggling to adapt to the situation and failing miserably. Because I’m old-fashioned in ways an eighteen year old really shouldn’t be.

I’m just upset with the way things are going, the way no one can make eye contact anymore, myself included. The way we are all so connected yet we choose the most passive options possible to contact each other. There should be a national turn off your fucking cell phone and talk to someone day.

People think I’m self conscious because I mess around with words a lot, I edit what I say, but its just that I actually care what’s coming out of my mouth. I care enough to not abbreviate every other thing and to actually laugh at your jokes. When I ask someone how their day was I mean I want to know what they did, how they felt, did they love, were they mad, did they fall flat on their face on the pavement? I want to know! It an honest question! But somehow our language has been dumbed down as to be meaningless. I’ll continue this rant later, or probably just delete it.

Last night was interesting.

In an attempt to squeeze a social life in somewhere between work and school I drove out to the Coolidge Corner theater to see Persepolis with Nicole and her friend Bobby(who is also my friend? Ish? He is a thing of sorts)
Anyways I slaved at work all day and stopped at one point to make them some cupcakes because I thought it would be cool and I was a jerk the last time I saw her for not bringing cake and talking about it incessantly, which is hard when you’re in a kitchen 7 days a week.

So I’m waiting outside in the cold with no coat for half an hour so I can buy Nicole a ticket and give her and Bobby their cupcakes(and chocolate chip cookies) when they finally message me(after the movie has started) saying it will be fifteen minutes more. So I wander up to the ticket counter and tell my little story to the people and the this lovely red-haired girl says to me:
“You tell your friends to fuck off and I’ll let you into the movie for free”
Which was just really funny, but I told her I simply could not do that because I was excited to see them beyond all belief and I really wanted to give them these cupcakes I had made them.
“But that’s just adding insult to injury”
“Would you like a chocolate chip cookie?”
“Come inside”

So I went inside and gave out all my chocolate chip cookies and they gave me popcorn and tea to warm me up. Then I had the most lovely conversation with a woman who turned out to be a curator of the Boston Independent Film Festival and she told me all about her favorite selectiosn then gave me two free movie passes to the theater. I mean really, as far low moments go this turned out amazingly well.