Say hello to my new little friend, Cherry. She is the coolest five year old I’ve ever met (and the cutest). My stepmother is teaching her piano at the moment and after the lessons, she enjoys hanging round our house for her own enjoyment.
I miss the unrestrictive friend-making one could do in primary school. After five minutes, you’re asking each other round for sleepovers and birthday parties; you’re orchestrating a fairytale wedding in the school playground or you’re always daring to venture into the smelly boys’ toilets. How I wish we were five years old again and not so opinionated of each other.
Except, Cherry did say to me after one of the silly photos we took:
That’s gonna scare your Mom…
Looking at all of them that included my face, she did have a point.
Why are the majority of people awkward around one another now? More often than not, we even have to drink a few before we are in the slightly laxed mindset to make easy-going conversation. Something subconsciously (or consciously) tells us that it is necessary to have an excuse – being tipsy – before we allow ourselves to talk to people who we normally wouldn’t chat to, such as those separate from the friendship groups we have been so cosily part of – in clubs and/or other social situations.
I like talking to strangers. To say in a soppy and rather weird way:
I love people. I really, really do.
I like talking to people and taking interest in what they love in life. It’s probably the most enjoyable hobby next to music, body-scrub and writing of course. For me, it’s the closest thing to appreciating life (without costing any money and having to travel all over the world).
The conversation normally begins from my side:
Where are you heading today?
For instance, I spoke to different people during my journey to Atlanta: Kimmy, a half-Japanese, half-American art student who did not show any sign of hiding her undying love of Great Britain, and Blake, a very handsome, (unfortunately non-heterosexual) and well-groomed urban-landscape design student studying in NYC who likes horse-riding.
I am observant enough to take note of awkwardness and when somebody chooses to ignore me. Is it that difficult to wave at a person you recognise who’s standing a few metres away from you? You’ve exchanged words at school, why not a harmless gesture? Particular if some effort has been put in to make them feel at ease in an alien environment. Perhaps they don’t think they’re doing anything wrong. But I know they’re smart enough to show some amiable recognition of my existence. (Anyway, they’re comfortable in their friendship group at that present moment, so they wouldn’t bother.)
I admit however, that I am not an exception to this kind of habit. I tend to do this when I’m wandering around alone. It’s rare for me to go completely out my way to speak to an unrelated stranger when I’m with someone else. I conclude that this is because of two things:
- Talking to strangers is kind of my thing (though pretty unoriginal).
- If it’s only two of us, I don’t want to be rude when they think I ditch them for a stranger.
And also, why don’t people smile? When I pass someone in the school corridor with a blank face, it’s like I’ve offended them by my unplanned decision to walk past them at that precise moment. It’s too disturbing to smile at someone, as if…
This could all be interpreted as if I am desperate: I want people to be eager to talk to me constantly; because I think I am without a doubt the important and popular person to socialize with. (I mean, honestly, why don’t people notice me? I’m like the nicest and coolest person in the world.) I jest…
Wow, I sound angry. I’m actually in a splendid mood. Tomorrow, there are muffins to be baked… by me! A neighbour is holding a small party for friends and we’re allowed to bring along food. They’re going to be the most delicious part of the evening, I’m confident of that.
To end this post on a happier note, here’s a photo of my charming Dad: