I must breathe, and drink water, and sup, and excrete, and Society (the grand They) seem to expect small talk. And that's fine. I think for me it's when it lingers over the small and you realize the small is all there will be that I feel a bit frustrated. Which isn't to say I don't care about the small stuff. I ask my friends how was their day because I care and even their minor incidents are pieces of their larger puzzle. But it's also the depth of my awareness of them that makes those small things important to me.
What is awfully hard for me to suffer through is when you get dragged to a bar by a friend... And you spend the next three hours briefly conversing with slightly drunk people about the most superficial aspects of themselves. I come away knowing a human named Cindy exists and she is an account rep at a pharmaceutical company, that she went to Northwestern, that she has a thing for Gucci bags, she likes Hawaii, and she thinks Robert Downey, Jr.T is super sexy. Ugh. I want to know what Cindy feels when she first sits at her desk in the morning. Excitement? Dread? Why does she seem to have this palpable sadness about her? Is this really who she thought she'd become five years ago? What secrets is she keeping from her friend, Jen, who's sitting right next to her. Does she secretly lust after Jen's husband?
That's what I want to ask, what I want to know. Anyone can ask me anything any time any place. I may choose not to answer but I won't be offended. I don't have rules about you can't ask me this or that until some whenever. Obviously if you ask me and also seem odd I'll assume you're a few bricks shy of a load, and may keep myself to myself. But that's just sensible. To the mostly sane I would bare my soul at the drop of hat.