Outback Girl
A few years ago, Dale and I were out on one of our notorious Thursday night date nights, eating dinner at Outback, one of my personal favorites, enjoying a lovely quiet dinner when something caught our attention. The sound was almost like white noise, a constant flow coming from a table across the isle and a few booths back. Casually we both took a turn looking to see who it was and saw a college-aged girl chattering away mindlessly to an obviously uninterested guy across from her. We exchanged a look and then snickered, going back to our lavish spread of delicacies. When we got in the car I said, "You think I'm like that girl, don't you?" He made some completely sarcastic comment about how he would never say anything of the sort and we laughed again at how completely self-consumed people can be in conversation.
This last couple of weeks, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I'm Outback girl! I have been on the horn every recess, during lunch, after school, and after football practice. And not only that, last weekend, every time I called someone, someone else would beep in, giving me hope of just a few more minutes of conversation with someone above the age of, well, grade school. I have been a little starved for grown-up conversation. And I justify it by the fact that telephone conversation does not do justice what face-to-face conversation does for the soul, so I need MORE of it! And what's worse is, after the kids go to bed, it's really too late to call anyone since I live out here on the other side of the cosmos where we are still going long after the rest of the world has gone to bed, so I get on my email and write long, long messages to people that I may or may not have had a lengthy conversation with just hours ago. Why I think that I could possibly have anything more important to say that can't wait until the next day when I can call is beyond my comprehension, but I don't reason it out. I figure, if they don't want to read it, I'll never know. This is all moderately embarrassing for me and leads me to carefully contemplate the burden I must hoist upon my loving husband, who usually fills the brunt of this need for me single-handedly. Which brings me to my next point.
I read a poem on myspace the other night on Laura's page. I don't know her, I just found her through a friend's sister's page. I'd like to credit her for the poem, but I tweaked in a tiny bit and frankly, there was no signature or by-line, so who knows who wrote it. I was so inspired by this poem that I wanted to write a long post about it, but I was hesitant because I reacted to emotionally to it, which, by the way, is how I am reacting to EVERYTHING in creation these days, so I was nervous to lay my soul bare here on my blog. Now I've let it settle for a few days and feel confident I can post a little less, you know, bare-ly. Here it is:
In an effort to get people to look into each other's eyes more, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night, I call my long distance lover and proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you. When he doesn't respond, I know he's used up all his words so I slowly whisper I love you, thirty-two and a third times. After that, we just sit on the line and listen to each other breathe.
OK, here's what inspired me about this. I am talking WAY TOO MUCH, just like I eat too much, spend too much, yell too much, sleep too much, and waste TOO MUCH TIME. I want to limit my words to a simple quota like this. I love it. IN AN EFFORT TO INCREASE EYE CONTACT... More like, in an effort to be more deliberate about everything you say, more careful to decide about each word you speak, more decisive about the things that go into and come out of your mouth... how about setting a simple boundary?
My friend Shanda, the great conversationalist, used to pause in the conversation before she'd speak. This proved to be extremely unsettling for me initially, so I'd fill the pause with nervous laughter or chatter just to close the gap in the conversation. What I soon came to find out was that she was thinking, composing a careful response to my question or previous statement. I learned to stop filling the gap with noise to allow her to think. Upon this new found discovery, I trained myself, still nervous, to look down and pretend to be busy with something until she responded. Finally I accepted this mannerism of hers and savored the still moment, knowing that whatever followed would be worth the wait.
We used to attend a cell group, eons ago, with a lot of people that had a lot to say and I loved every minute of it, because for a good portion of our time together, every time, we would laugh. The balance of that was that when things would get serious, we felt safe sharing our secrets and struggles with each other. It was a real kingdom connection, you know? And in that group, while a lot of people said a lot of good things, there was one guy that always sort of sat back and took everything in. He barely said a word during that soul searching time, but every once in a while he'd clear his throat right before he spoke and immediately a hush would fall over the group. It was almost like every person would lean in just a little to make sure they heard what he had to say. Now, I'll tell you the truth. He wasn't the smartest guy I've ever known, and some of the things he said were really basic, simple truths, but we all respected him because he CHOSE what he wanted to say, and when he wanted to say it. It gave him a real air of wisdom.
I rarely have something really good to say, and if I do, who would know for all the idiocy surrounding that good thing? This little poem, a few lines on a page, could be a real catalyst for change in my life. Or it could just be the next great idea that will last until Friday and I'll chuck it with the rest of them and start again on Monday. Love, Outback Girl.
This last couple of weeks, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I'm Outback girl! I have been on the horn every recess, during lunch, after school, and after football practice. And not only that, last weekend, every time I called someone, someone else would beep in, giving me hope of just a few more minutes of conversation with someone above the age of, well, grade school. I have been a little starved for grown-up conversation. And I justify it by the fact that telephone conversation does not do justice what face-to-face conversation does for the soul, so I need MORE of it! And what's worse is, after the kids go to bed, it's really too late to call anyone since I live out here on the other side of the cosmos where we are still going long after the rest of the world has gone to bed, so I get on my email and write long, long messages to people that I may or may not have had a lengthy conversation with just hours ago. Why I think that I could possibly have anything more important to say that can't wait until the next day when I can call is beyond my comprehension, but I don't reason it out. I figure, if they don't want to read it, I'll never know. This is all moderately embarrassing for me and leads me to carefully contemplate the burden I must hoist upon my loving husband, who usually fills the brunt of this need for me single-handedly. Which brings me to my next point.
I read a poem on myspace the other night on Laura's page. I don't know her, I just found her through a friend's sister's page. I'd like to credit her for the poem, but I tweaked in a tiny bit and frankly, there was no signature or by-line, so who knows who wrote it. I was so inspired by this poem that I wanted to write a long post about it, but I was hesitant because I reacted to emotionally to it, which, by the way, is how I am reacting to EVERYTHING in creation these days, so I was nervous to lay my soul bare here on my blog. Now I've let it settle for a few days and feel confident I can post a little less, you know, bare-ly. Here it is:
In an effort to get people to look into each other's eyes more, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night, I call my long distance lover and proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you. When he doesn't respond, I know he's used up all his words so I slowly whisper I love you, thirty-two and a third times. After that, we just sit on the line and listen to each other breathe.
OK, here's what inspired me about this. I am talking WAY TOO MUCH, just like I eat too much, spend too much, yell too much, sleep too much, and waste TOO MUCH TIME. I want to limit my words to a simple quota like this. I love it. IN AN EFFORT TO INCREASE EYE CONTACT... More like, in an effort to be more deliberate about everything you say, more careful to decide about each word you speak, more decisive about the things that go into and come out of your mouth... how about setting a simple boundary?
My friend Shanda, the great conversationalist, used to pause in the conversation before she'd speak. This proved to be extremely unsettling for me initially, so I'd fill the pause with nervous laughter or chatter just to close the gap in the conversation. What I soon came to find out was that she was thinking, composing a careful response to my question or previous statement. I learned to stop filling the gap with noise to allow her to think. Upon this new found discovery, I trained myself, still nervous, to look down and pretend to be busy with something until she responded. Finally I accepted this mannerism of hers and savored the still moment, knowing that whatever followed would be worth the wait.
We used to attend a cell group, eons ago, with a lot of people that had a lot to say and I loved every minute of it, because for a good portion of our time together, every time, we would laugh. The balance of that was that when things would get serious, we felt safe sharing our secrets and struggles with each other. It was a real kingdom connection, you know? And in that group, while a lot of people said a lot of good things, there was one guy that always sort of sat back and took everything in. He barely said a word during that soul searching time, but every once in a while he'd clear his throat right before he spoke and immediately a hush would fall over the group. It was almost like every person would lean in just a little to make sure they heard what he had to say. Now, I'll tell you the truth. He wasn't the smartest guy I've ever known, and some of the things he said were really basic, simple truths, but we all respected him because he CHOSE what he wanted to say, and when he wanted to say it. It gave him a real air of wisdom.
I rarely have something really good to say, and if I do, who would know for all the idiocy surrounding that good thing? This little poem, a few lines on a page, could be a real catalyst for change in my life. Or it could just be the next great idea that will last until Friday and I'll chuck it with the rest of them and start again on Monday. Love, Outback Girl.
you're not outback girl, I love every word you say, and three weeks out, I would love to even hear about what the dogs did today. I love you
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