Thursday, January 28, 2010

Bitch fest number...oh, I've lost count

You ever know someone who talks constantly just to avoid what they consider "awkward silence"? Silence is not awkward to me. It is blissful, especially when faced with interacting with certain people. I like to stick with that old adage that some dead guy came up with. You know the whole "Better to be silent and thought an idiot than to open your mouth and prove them right." Or some such shit. Whatever. You get my drift.

Why do people feel the need to chat incessantly about themselves? What is it about people that makes them afraid to just sit and exist? Needless to say, I am currenty spending 8 hours a night with such a person. She prattles on about her inconsequential life ad nauseum. I politely nod, all the while resisting the urge to grab something sharp, anything sharp, and jab it repeatedly into my eye.

Rude, you say? Me? Never. It would be different if an actual conversation was occurring. But, no. I am talked AT. Whenever I try to add a footnote about myself, I am talked over. I find that unbearably rude and it only serves to make me care even less about what she has to say.

Now, mind you, I am working night shift, which is a very slow shift at my job. So there is VERY little to do. And  it is just her and myself sitting in a small room for 8 hours. And now that they have banned us from reading while on our shifts (which I have a sneaking suspicion was all her doing - that's a whole 'nother story), there really is shit else to do but listen to the radio. So I guess that's why she feels she must ramble.

And my mom (the saint-or sadist that she is) insists taht I should be kind. "Maybe she has no one else to talk to in her life," she conjectures.  I am BEYOND sick of being people's therapist. Maybe I like studying psychology in theory, but application is not to my taste. I always preferred learning about Freud's whacked out theories to his idea of client-centered therapy anyway. And I've gotten off track. Mainly because as I am writing thism she is repeatedly saying "I'm bored." and she proceeds to get up and run the vaccuum while I am clearly putting full concentration into something that isn't her. I guess what bothers me most is that I am ALWAYS respectful of other people. I respect the fact that she wants to prattle on about her life for the entire 8 hours. Why can't she respect that some days I want to sit here quietly and write a blog, or doodle, or just BE.

Oh, and just to be petty: Her fondness for country music causes my gag reflex to work double time. For reals. I'm dry heaving now just thinking about it.

And I leave you all with a request: Please pray that I don't have to work this shift next month. Or if you are an atheist, send me good vibes at least. Oh and if you ARE an atheist, check out this post. It might change your mind. If you have a libido.

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