How the Cream Reached A Frenzy

I enjoy hearing people. Give me someone to listen to, and I'll pay attention sympathetically as long as they remain entertaining. In that sense, the first five minutes or so tend to be the best from strangers, or a group of people. The problem is they run out of things to say.

That's where I like to interject. I may not be the best talker, but I can listen fairly well, and I include questions to be a part of the listening process. Yet, simply, people don't have much to say, and thus questions must become more random and direct.

When boredom sets in, but the desire to communicate remains, that is when the best conversational pieces emerge. Maybe it's the surprise of the question, like following up a baseball conversation with a question about a person's stance on abortion. Comforting dialogue followed by harsh, real communication leaves a person without the serenity of thought, leading to a true voice. However, it's easy to lose a person with this technique.

You see, I don't really much care about what you are saying, just that you are saying something, and trying to find a topic that a person doesn't want to talk about is usually the best way to find out the spirit of someone. Refusing to comment will only increase my intrigue, and sure, I'll be a bastard if I need to.

Humans are entertainment, not much else, and it is their fear of being the entertaining focus that makes people hesitate. “Oh no,” they must think, “I might be offensive or dull, or find myself caught in an argument I'm ill-prepared for.” And so it must be that most people avoid this position to avoid being themselves, to further the characters they have created of themselves to perpetuate their own fiction.

“I must not have my opinions. I must be the tolerant complier interlocutors expect of me.”

But I'll let you in a tip: your thoughts don't matter, as chances are they are extremely flawed. God, politics, drugs, children—your views on these situations are nothing more than spectacle, fickle adaptations of a mind and world you know nothing about.

But everyone has their absolutes, those aspirations and ideals they cling to in order to have an identity, not for others, but for themselves. That is how we address our beings, basically. Our absolutes give us something to retrieve when we need thoughts. And it's comical.

The unawareness of this comedy is why talking can be so satisfying. A person will likely have more to say about their stance on the Olympics than their stance on death. While I hope this is avoidance at its best, it could boil down to the fact that we have no real concern about the lives we experience.

How do we combat this mentality? By being true and honest to our voices. By refusing to not subject ourselves to our own insecurities and doubts regarding the path verbal intercourse take. While in this mode, we must remind ourselves to be cognizant of the fact that are words are mere pleasure, entertainment for the sake of interaction, not some sort of moment where our identities are put on trial.

Ask the questions you'd like to hear answers to, and don't be shy to be confident in your reaction. Take away a few layers of skin, and it may hurt, but you will actually feel more.