Posts Tagged ‘talk like you mean it’

Pointing Out the Obvious, Lesson One: Talk Like You Mean It, Part Two

Saturday, February 5th, 2011 by ahorner

The secret? It’s right there in this lesson’s title. Talk like you mean it. That’s really all there is to it, though I’m naturally going to elaborate on that idea. I’m sure your feeble mind requires a lot of simple concepts to be explained quite thoroughly before you can mentally digest them, and it’s my duty as a writer to cater to the audience’s needs. To phrase our goal another way, you need to stop saying the shit that you want to believe, and start telling the truth as accurately and concisely as you can.

This process requires you to simply refrain from playing your usual games of dress-up with the truth, and relate your thoughts and feelings without somehow filtering or masking them as you’ve grown so accustomed to doing. Euphemisms might seem an easy compromise to make, allowing you to tell part of the truth without some of the hurt feelings and broken friendships, but in the future I’m envisioning—the future we’re creating as you read this and let my wisdom sink in—there’s no place for friendships built on lies. If your friends wouldn’t like you after learning your true feelings, can they really be considered your friends? Or are your relationships merely another series of fabrications you’ve hatched and tended to in your damned nest these many long years?

I’d like to take this opportunity to warn you of another danger: while there’s an overwhelming urge to mask the truth in its entirety, there is another temptation, possibly more sinister in nature, to tell the truth but entwine it so intricately in a labyrinth of words that any real meaning becomes irrevocably and utterly lost. With enough effort, I could insult you right to your face while making you believe I am the nicest, most stand-up individual you’ve ever met. Of course, I’m polite enough to dispense with such formalities, opting instead to insult you directly, despite having no idea who you are. I hope you can appreciate the example I am setting for you.

Honesty, then, can be seen as an act of sacrifice: you must throw away your worn-down crutches, those tendencies you constantly lean on when you long to escape from your responsibilities as a human being. Because while there is certainly a measure of fear involved (the fear of rejection, the fear of being disliked) in all dishonesty, I believe that the most potent and troublesome reason for the telling of lies is sheer laziness. You don’t want to have to deal with the consequences of what you believe, and opt instead to fabricate a temporary alternate world, one in which your beliefs no longer create a disruption that must be dealt with. In doing so, you effectively shield yourself from ever having to be a real person.

Yes, the causes of your dishonesty are varied and many, and to tackle all of these issues at once would be akin to ripping every fucking tooth in my mouth out at the same time: stupid and painful. This realization led me to establish a list of tried-and-true steps to clearer and more rewarding communication. Tried, of course, by me, and true by merit of the fact that everything I do and say is correct. I’m sure by now you’ve recognized my knack for being right about things, so feel free to trust me unquestioningly for the remainder of this series. This is not a behavior I would recommend in general, and I’ll definitely go into the topic at some length later on, but I think it’s pretty obvious that I am a special case, and am therefore exempt from the typical heuristics of interaction.

1. Learn when to shut the fuck up.

Our first rule of interaction? Don’t talk so fucking much. Yes, you are going to need to do a lot of talking to redeem a lifetime of dishonesty, but none of the talking you need to be doing is the sort of stupid small-talk bullshit that currently rolls out of your mouth on a regular basis. Nobody, including you, really gives a shit about the weather or the local sports team; stop trying to strike up conversations that none of the parties involved actually have an interest in hearing out, which is the only possible end result of your apparent lifelong dedication to bringing up petty, useless trivia. You see, there’s one particularly egregious lie that people are fond of telling themselves: “I am an interesting person.”

No, you are not an interesting person; you are, in fact, a stupid and selfish person who lacks the very basic sense of self-awareness that it would take to realize that nobody else is actually interested in anything you have to say. It is out of sheer arrogance that you consistently run your mouth without even the remotest sense of purpose guiding your tongue. You vomit streams of half-digested words out into the world, confident that they will reach the ears of some individual lucky enough to hear them, and self-assured that when they do, they will serve as incontrovertible proof of your own superiority as a human being. You treat words as though they are your tools in some sort of macho pissing contest, speaking not as part of an actual process of communication, but in an effort to pretend at intelligence.

The problem, of course, lies somewhere in the enormous gap that exists between your presumption of intellect and your very real lack thereof. Truly bright individuals allow their intelligence to speak for itself, and have no need for their mouths to spew unrelenting torrents of bullshit. The only people who truly need to talk a lot are liars and conmen. Silence is a part of honest communication, the first part that you should acquaint yourself with.

So just shut up and listen for a while. Preferably to me.

2. Speak your mind.

Now, I really hope you are aware of the difference between speaking your mind and doing whatever the fuck it was you were doing before, because the success of this lesson hinges on your ability to distinguish between the two. What you were doing before was essentially speaking without saying anything, and what you need to be doing is speaking only when you actually have something pertinent to say.

One of the most irritating hypocrisies of modern life is that such a trivial and pointless query as “How’s the weather?” is considered socially acceptable, while commenting on somebody’s appearance is generally regarded as rude and uncalled for. But we’re doing things my way now, so listen up: the former is something you say only when you have nothing important to actually express or ask about. It is nothing more than filler speech, the useless stuffing that pads out a conversation but does not move it forward or result in any useful exchange of information. Such a query should be considered a crime against humanity, and be made punishable by death.

Going back much earlier in the lesson, to your childhood “Kids Say the Darnedest Things!” moment, you’ll notice that as a child, you were much more willing to say the things that needed to be said. The fat-ass in the supermarket needed to be shamed into shedding a few pounds. The remaining three years of her sweaty, smelly life were banking on the fact that somebody would come along and make her see the error of her lazy, over-eating ways. You saved a life back then; you made the world a better place because you spoke up and said what needed to be said. This is what you should strive for in your daily conversations. This is the golden standard of communication.

3. Don’t fucking censor yourself.

Political correctness is possibly the worst thing that ever happened to communication. When did we start caring about whether or not the things we said offended people? It probably happened around the point in time that the people who felt offended started whining about it (and if there’s anything worse than people who are easily offended, it’s whiners).

4. Okay, maybe censor yourself a little.

I stand by my previous declaration that there is no need for you to filter your thoughts, but I must modify this declaration such that it only applies in cases where your uncensored speech won’t make you sound like a complete douche. Bear in mind that douches are very active in our society, and have left an indelible mark on communication; it is of utmost importance that you learn to avoid following their example at all costs. It might help you to think of this step in the process as more about changing your way of thinking than about actually filtering your speech. As this is the last step of my patent-free program to more effective communication, I can spare a few minutes to identify a few chief douche-speak patterns for you. The words and phrases themselves are less relevant than the intention behind them, so we’re going to need to get a little Freudian here—I mean this in the sense that we will be analyzing the subconscious reasons for such behavior, not that we’ll be making dick jokes.

Pointing Out the Obvious, Lesson One: Talk Like You Mean It, Part One

Thursday, January 27th, 2011 by ahorner

I can tell by the baffled look on your face (don’t try to pretend it’s not there; I’ve been aware of it ever since you clicked through to this page and started gawking) that we’re going to have to clear the air about a few things before we can get any real work done here. So I’ve committed our first lesson to preemptively working out some of the communication issues that are bound to spring up between the two of us throughout the course of this series.

The first activity on our agenda is a short checklist I’ve prepared for you. Your job is to read through it, and, if you don’t like any of what you read there, tough shit. We can proceed once you’ve come to terms with each element. Really, though, this list is entirely composed of things that any attentive reader would have already figured out about my writing style, so you can also consider this a pop quiz. For each item on the list that you didn’t already notice, you get a point. My recommendation is that you read every sentence in this post one extra time for each point earned in this manner, as such a total lack of reading comprehension implies that you need some extra help drilling information into your thick skull.

1. I will be using profanity heavily.

By this, I mean that I will be fucking swearing all over the place like a goddamn sailor shitting out a particularly rusty anchor. I imagine the sailor is in a great fucking deal of pain, does not really feel like explaining how an entire anchor got lodged up his ass, and is probably not too excited about the prospect of tetanus, either. No, it’s probably not necessary for me to curse, but it’s not necessary for you to live in a house with air-conditioning either, so it seems we both have our vices. Quite frankly, obscene language makes communication more colorful and enjoyable for everybody involved, and if you’re really, truly offended by somebody stringing together four-letter words like fuck, shit, or damn, we wouldn’t get along very well without this blog between us. Let’s not kid one another: I curse, you curse, everybody in the world curses; get the fuck over it.

2. I will be making unfounded comments about your character, mental faculties, physical appearance, and background.

No, I am not insecurely trying to build myself up by knocking others down; my insults are intended to help you bolster your mental defenses against a world that, quite frankly, doesn’t give half a shit about your feelings. Many of my comments will be blatantly insulting and easy to ignore for any well-adjusted individual (the implication here being that you should aspire to ignore such comments, not that I think you are fundamentally well-adjusted), but the best ones will naturally be those that actually strike a nerve with you. If at any point I say something that really, truly pisses you off, great. I want you to take a deep breath, think about why it pisses you off, and then get the hell over yourself. There are much more worthy targets of your scorn than a handful of ill-founded personal attacks, and that’s the real moral of this story (there’ll be plenty more on this topic later). Also it’s fun to come up with colorful insults, regardless of their accuracy, and I’m hardly going to deny myself the innocent joy of being an asshole to complete strangers.

3. I will be pointing out uncomfortable truths constantly.

I know, I know, “nobody likes a know-it-all,” but in all honesty, you need to hear the truth from someone. Your life is full of people telling you lies both large and small, like, “Thanks for that report you sent in, it looks great!” or, “No, honey, that dress doesn’t make you look fat at all.” People at home or at your job might be willing to kiss your ass and pretend your shit smells like roses, but I am not going to pat your head and pretend that your mediocrity is acceptable, because it isn’t. Also, I am not aware of any way to pat heads via text, so there’s that.

In any case, I’m going to be making many points throughout the course of these lessons that cause you to wonder, “Now why didn’t I think of that? It’s so obvious!” The reason, of course, is that I am much cleverer than you, and a lifetime of sloppy thinking has regrettably eliminated your capacity for original thought. You need a clever person like me to force-feed you your revelations, which is why you’re reading this post rather than, say, writing it.

Ready to get on with things? Excellent. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s not beat around the bush. You’re reading this series because you want to be more like me. That’s your entire motivation, summed up in one short sentence. You realize that I know something you don’t know, and you, nosy, insufferable thing that you are, won’t be satisfied until you’ve figured out what it is and made it a part of your own life—a life, I might add, which has been thus far entirely lackluster. Well, I’m not too keen on just handing out the secrets of a happy existence to any random uninitiated schmuck with a third-grade education who happens to key in a malformed Google query, so we’re going to have to get to know one another a bit better before I’m comfortable sharing any more tips with you. Don’t try to get cute by skipping ahead to the next chapter; you’ll only end up confusing yourself.

In that vein, this first chapter of this series will count as your introduction to my particular brand of communication, as well as a lesson in improving your own communication skills. Let’s face it, your life—at least up until you discovered this blog—has been governed by a series of increasingly unsatisfying interactions with other people. What is it that drains the sense of fulfillment from these interactions; what is it that sucks the point and purpose from each and every conversation, like some sort of communicative parasite?

It’s you. Not the you that is reading this right now, but the you that fears rejection, the you that wants to be accepted and liked by everyone. You see, you’ve spent your entire life making compromises in the way you communicate.  It starts off with the little things, maybe tossing in a white lie here and there to avoid hurting the feelings of a close friend. You move on to lying about entire relationships, pretending that you’re the best of friends with a co-worker or colleague to their face, then talking shit about them behind their back the minute they’re gone. You construct entire worlds around the fantastic (and, you believe incorrectly, completely innocuous) lies you tell, eventually reaching a point where the person you say you are and the person you really are inside are completely separate individuals.

Sure, you and not-quite-you share quite a lot in common. But there’s enough distance between the two of you after decades of elaborate lies and half-truths that neither of you would ever be mistaken for the other, should a friend or acquaintance spot you walking down the street. Oh, that’s right; half-truths are also lies in their most basic sense, though perhaps worse—they’re the lies you tell to yourself, the things you’re willing to admit to in order to pretend that the bigger and more pressing issues simply don’t exist. Half-truths are the price you pay to silence your soul, covering its figurative mouth with one hand as you figuratively stab it mercilessly with the other. As it figuratively dies, figuratively sinking to your kitchen floor, where a growing pool of figurative blood surrounds it, you figuratively cast your eyes down upon it one final time, and the malice there is figuratively palpable.

Yet, you can’t really be blamed for this (well, you can, but I’ll be generous here and pretend). Our society is one built around deception, both of the self and of others. We were raised to filter our thoughts. Your parents scolded you once when you commented on a morbidly obese lady waddling around the local grocery store, your eyes wide with innocence as you stammered out, “Gosh, that lady is fat!” Or maybe you said “Gee willikers,” or something equally endearing; the point here has nothing to do with exactly what was said, but we can agree that you were a hell of a lot more likeable as a child than you are now. While colorful yet archaic phrases may have played a minor role in your charm, the most important trait was your honesty. Your parents unwittingly murdered a part of your natural charisma that day, their misguided attempts at maintaining social propriety quashing an essential instinct, and setting you on the spiraling path to self-destruction that you have been following ever since.

Now I need you to ask yourself: for each lie that you tell to protect somebody else’s feelings, what is it that you gain? Do you experience a self-righteous feeling of accomplishment? What is it that you feel you have accomplished, then? I hardly want to live in a world where the only possible existence is one founded on self-deception and sustained by the lies of others. You need to understand something: each little white lie you tell flies off into the horizon, moving with both speed and purpose. Just beyond that skyline, a quivering, congealed mass of falsehood grows, sinking its many rancid tentacles into the earth. Your lie is swallowed whole, lost in the gaping maw of this black beast, and the creature grows a little more. The world has become a darker place because of you.

Naturally, you’ll forgive me for waxing dramatic here; the only nefarious monster spawned by your dishonesty is a figurative one, and it’s never truly too late to turn things around. For every keen, inquisitive mind (I’m trying to be inspirational here, so you’ll also need to forgive my gross exaggerations) reading this series, there’s an Excalibur waiting to be forged and grasped by the hilt. I’ll set you on the right road—hell, I’ll even hand you a map—but you need to be the one to walk it to the end and vanquish the beast of your own construction.

Pointing Out the Obvious, Lesson One: Talk Like You Mean It, Prelude

Thursday, January 13th, 2011 by ahorner

In this dream I am sitting across from a man in a suit and tie. He smiles politely at me, but behind this façade I sense something venomous and deadly; this is no more than a demon wearing a man’s skin. The demon is speaking to me, either telling a truth in the most dishonest way possible, or lying to me in the most honest way possible. It’s hard for me to tell which is the case, but the distinction is an unimportant one. All that really matters to me at this moment is the maddening drone of the demon’s voice as he speaks to me from behind his mask.

Every word that passes through his borrowed lips feels somehow false. Every phrase seems too calculated, too precisely neutral to be real. My ears pick up each uttered phrase, but my mind tunes them out. There is no substance to what the demon is saying; he will keep circling around the truth forever, trapping me here in an intricate web of vague assertions and half-statements.

This is Hell, I think, and as soon as the thought enters my mind, I am filled with the dreadful certainty that my new friend is a politician.