The words running through my mind are clearer than the words that actually come out of my mouth. It’s so frustrating, to say the least.
In-person, sometimes the more I say, the more I dig myself in a hole.
I have success in sharing my thoughts when I write them before sharing them in an e-mail or post on social media. I can draft my words, edit my words, and then spread my word to the receiver(s).
I am not comfortable in the slightest to be the one to initiate a conversation or bring up a topic. It’s a gamble and I have often been on the losing end. For example, a moment where I dug myself in a hole after bringing up a topic happened around 30 years ago. Yes, I still remember it like it was yesterday. It is one of the many memories I wish I could delete forever.
I was working for Uncle Sam in the Washington, D.C. area in one of Sam’s libraries. There were a few “walking encyclopedia” type folks who worked in the library. I admired their wealth of IQ, but my conversation with them was limited to library business.
My work desk neighbor was one of those who I thought looked more at home in a college classroom than a library with his long bear and wire-framed glasses. He was an avid book reader. How much so? When he proposed to his wife, he told her he would adopt her son if she took in his huge book collection. As well as being an academic, he could carry a tune. He was a member of one of Washington’s well-known and Emmy-winning choirs. As for our relationship other than being office desk neighbors, we seldom conversed beyond that of work conversation.
I don’t know what possessed me to converse with him about a band that had “Orchestra” its name. When I asked him if he had ever heard of them, he had not. I should have stopped then and there! But I continued talking about this group. At that time, I had bought one of this group’s Christmas music CD. I knew even while I was talking to him that I was like a player at bat who had struck out three times and was still on the plate not willing to go back to the dugout.
After the conversation, I whispered to a co-worker who was within earshot of the conversation, “I should have quit at the start.” She nodded with an empathetic glance and said, “Yeah!”
The Trans-Siberian Orchestra is one of my favorite bands. They are terrific but I got the impression from my co-worker that they are not in the same league as his beloved Boston Symphony Orchestra.