say anything

I remember being introduced to the language before I even entered high school. I encountered it at my first stake dance as I rotated in circles while a gangly boy tried not to look at me and not to step on my toes. At that time, small talk did not come naturally to anyone. I was not the only one who preferred silence to questions one heard, such as "do you play any musical instruments?" But by the time I left high school I was years behind my peers, because I still preferred silence while they had mastered the art of chit-chat. Small talk is part of that social capital that comes as a latent function from our educational system. I did not learn it.

Once I entered college I resisted fluency for a long time, but I found that I was the one hurt by the insistence that communications be meaningful or forgone entirely. Because usually the latter occurred. It turns out that one cannot become acquainted with someone without talking, and no one begins a conversation by asking your views on Dostoevsky and the latest political trend toward legislation for the prevention of abuse against small animals and super models.

Truth, never a big component of small talk, also led to complications. Truth is only allowed if it is entirely pleasant and of general interest. It rarely is. When I'm asked about my family, for instance, Mom's affair and Dad's insanity do better in their respective closets, while I have learned to focus on my siblings in general terms--their whereabouts and ages, etc.

Also, questions are not asked to get answers, and statements are not provided to give answers. All talking in small talk is to avoid silence and maintain predictability. Never break those rules.

I took a crash course in small talk after my second year of school. The first, I maintained simple awkwardness amid general good standing socially. The second, I turned my back on accepted social graces and dared anyone to care; they did, as did I. Last year I learned to smile during a speech that held no interest for me, to ask questions of a stranger when introduced and to form my remarks in such a way as would liven a conversation and not kill it. It is only sheer perverseness that leads me to do otherwise on certain occasions.

So now I speak the language passably well, though it does not come naturally. Like a student living in a foreign land, I restrict myself to that language and stumble through it as my only means of communication. I go to work and I go to school and I come home and answer the generally expected question of, "how was your day."

At work I say superb and absolutely a lot. I am superb, I will absolutely get that done, the new system is absolutely superb. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I just said, like conjugating a French verb; surely that couldn't have been right. But then my boss smiles genuinely and lets me get back to work. I like everyone that I work with, but I do not know anything about them but that they are "doing good" today and that this one works efficiently and that one doesn't.

At school I have become Hermione, raising my hand and giving my opinions on everything. That is perhaps the only way something intelligent comes out of my mouth all day (except for the fact that I always use an adverb correctly when asked how I am doing). Those seated next to me ask about my previous classes and sometimes we compare professors. We often discuss material for group projects, but then I find them falling into questions such as, "so, where are you from?" "what are you majoring in?" and "what do you want to do with that after graduation?" Though I want to cry that these people do not care about my past or my ambitions, I have structured answers to give them that they will find interesting enough that their smiles aren't faked, and forgettable enough that we'll have something to talk about the next time.

How was your day? Fine. Good. Superb.

No one should go through an entire day without saying anything.