It must be my face that makes people spill their guts, telling someone they have never seen before their life stories. Today it happened again to me on campus, when after class, I called someone from media services in to fix my misbehaving projector, which after several scenes we watched from the movie, balked and refused to project anything but a blank screen, no matter which buttons I pushed.
The business was dispensed with in a trice. It seems that I pushed the wrong buttons or in the wrong order or something of that nature, and I probably won't do it again. But when the guy finished helping out with this problem, he began to tell me all about his life, practically from the very beginning.
It was interesting. I felt like a therapist because of the kinds of things the guy told me. And kind of like a therapist, I nodded sagely and let him go on. It was interesting and intense, the kind of discussion I like to have, generally, but all the while I was thinking about papers I needed to grade, the dinner that I needed to make... I wanted to go home. I spent an hour there with that guy because you can't just cut off a person's life story. That would be cruel and cold.
I always used to meet people this way when I rode the bus, before I could drive. I would seldom know their names, or even ask them, but would talk with them everytime I got on that bus at that time. Like a regular appointment... . I knew so much about those people, they felt like close friends, although they were at the same time somewhat anonymous. I think I just like stories, wherever they come from.
Reading people's blogs is kind of like that too, but surprisingly, I have not intruded into the blogs of people I do not know. Probably one day I will do it, and will be hooked, like someone viewing people through a one-way mirror, one way unless I comment, of course. But the one time I wrote on the blog of someone I didn't know, asking a question I wanted to know the answer to, that person didn't respond. I think I have responded to every person's comments on this blog, except when I accidentally erase them or some technical glitch makes my response impossible.
5 comments:
LOL Now I am wondering which media guy was spilling his tale.
Can't kiss and tell, so to speak. But I can say that he told me something that actually insulted me, and if he had been thinking at all, he would have known it. Maybe he did. Maybe it was intentional, but he was telling me about his personal ad in the paper that eventually yielded him his wife, and said that he had specified in that ad that no American women need apply. He confided to me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, that this was because all American women were, in his word, "pigs." Oink, is all I have to say. Could anyone be that clueless, or what do I look like, chopped liver?
Ah, I see, he was talking to himself. Alas.
Let's see Lou, I only know of two. And I know for sure who they are. I am wondering too. No, I am not. I know who it is. And I am sorry Robbi that you had to listen to his story. He had trapped me as well into long converstaions. And from I have heard about him, he is not to be trusted.
Beth
Well, let's see. Anyone who would tell a woman who is clearly American that all American women are "pigs" must be talking to himself! He surely is not paying attention to who I am.
Not that I'm about to invest my life's savings in him, but why can't he be trusted?
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