Secretly, I'm an Idiot.

You know that inevitable moment when the conversation dies, and you're not sure what to say?  If you say no, this post today isn't for you.  Because, inevitably, there comes a moment when I'm stuck at a table, or at a restaurant, or in a social situation where I have no idea what to say.  I know the people probably about as well as I know what I'm going to eat three weeks from now, and I'm left with the daunting process of trying to dredge up something that will embark us both on a journey about something that is undoubtedly much more interesting to them than it will ever be to me.

It is usually at those moments that I feel like an idiot.  I wonder how it is that I have so little to say, or so little to offer in the way of conversation.  I lament that conversation is so important that I feel uncomfortable with strangers when it is absent.  I ponder if they are as uncomfortable as I am, and if they are, if their silence is due more to the fact that they would rather engage a badger with their bare hands than try to talk to me about literally anything.

I will then wish that our lives had more things in common, like books, or news, or movies--though I find myself mortified at the thought of bringing up something I love only to find the person with whom I am conversing thinks it's a droll piece of garbage.  I ponder the contents of my plate, or the world around me, or anything but the other person, hoping they won't be too troubled that the conversation has ended so abruptly, and once again, I am left to wonder if the reason that the conversation is no longer extant stems from their belief that I am too inept at life to offer an opinion on anything that is even remotely worthy of leaving my mouth in an audible fashion.

And, inevitably, in the silence that occurs as I retreat back to my room, or back to the house on the car ride home, or wherever else I happen to be headed, I berate myself for being socially inept.  I secretly scold myself for being an idiot such that my thoughts and opinions are not valued, desired, or enjoyed.

And so, today, as I sit here to write this blog, I am confronted with this enormously horrible fear:

am I an idiot?  Am I one of the millions of people whose opinions and ideas are so ridiculous that I'm the thing that comedians make fun of when they're telling their jokes?  Are my opinions so uninformed and foolish that when I (rarely) offer them up for scrutiny to my peers, they believe me incapable of complex thought?  Am I that dumb blonde all the jokes are made about?

Maybe you're thinking that I shouldn't care what other people think.  Maybe, you say, I should be my own person and not worry about how anyone else is going to see me.  It's really some nice advice, and there are plenty of times that I wish I could simply accept it and "do" it.  But the truth of the matter is, ...to me, other people are ...intelligent, interesting, and while they are likely wrong a lot of the time, their ideas and thoughts had to come from somewhere.  So how is it that so many people can believe that they're right while condemning the rest of the world to the proverbial trash heap?

By what means do they ascertain whose opinions and ideas are more valid, and whose are just a bunch of pointless words?  Is it politics?  Science?  Strategy?  A lifetime of experiences that prove they're right?  Are they the sort of people who have questioned everything to the point where they can know in any instance, at any given time, how everything will turn out according to some law of averages that says, "If X does Y, then Z will happen"?

Maybe that's all it takes--is learning those special rules so that you can answer every question "right" and be lauded by your peers as the most intelligent person they know.  Maybe you know exactly the reason that you believe something to be true, and maybe you're confident that even if you're proven wrong, somehow the facts were just misleading somehow.

But if you and I ever end up in a conversation, and there's a long silence where I try to pretend that I don't notice that it's there, and you're doing the same thing, please understand that secretly, I'm an idiot.  I'm not always right.  And maybe my idea of human decision making is terrible.  And maybe my inability to iterate why I believe something is the way it is, is abysmal.  And maybe you really would rather be having a staring contest with a cat.

But I'll keep working on it.

And maybe one day, ...I'll have something to say that you won't find so idiotic anymore.