real Conversations

I find myself staring at the keyboard with a blank look upon my face regularly nowadays. I’m a little concerned, though not overly as to the reasons for this lack of affect. I have a strong inclination that it stems from the sole fact that my interaction on a day to day basis is most abundantly with a four and a half month old. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to carry on shrieking conversations as she feels out her vocal chords and attempts to imitate a few consonants here and there. I love the fact that she gives me all the news around the crib while I’m changing her diaper, for apparently there is much to tell.

I’m always forewarned about the onslaught of deep conversation with Ocean, by her quick inhale of breath—which she invariably holds for a few seconds, and her hands that clasp together in front of her chest. Shortly following these two tells, she will open her mouth twinkle her eyes and let me have it, all the while ringing her little fists together. I am as of yet unsure as to what it is we are discussing, but we sure can talk about it for quite an extended period of time. I am also convinced that when Ocean really learns how to talk there will be nothing that I can do to stop her from doing so day in and day out.

Occasionally I find myself craving a conversation with someone other than of the infant persuasion. Although, I’ve come to notice that there really aren’t many people out there worth wasting my time attempting to engage in any sort of real conversation. Perhaps it is the areas that I frequent most? Hmm. Wal-Mart, the bank, the gym… I suppose I’ve answered my own question.
I fear that extreme introversion is right around the corner for me yet I don’t really find myself working very hard to avoid it. I just don’t have the energy to brave a world full of judgmental, ignorant people. I find myself rationalizing why I really don’t need to make that phone call to so and so, or why I simply don’t feel like dealing with people who underestimate me. I find myself increasingly content to stay within my own little bubble—to spend time with just those closest to me; for I’ve become stingy with any extra I may have laying around. I’m a time miser—I can waste my own time perfectly well, I don’t need anyone else’s help.

Perhaps this lack of motivation to get out and “be” in the world is a residual effect of that life changing event I just went through a few months back? I am unsure, but I think that it could mean I am finally content with myself and the path my life is one. I have given myself the opportunity to no longer feel obligated to carry on unnecessary “real conversations,” instead I think that I’ll stick to a healthy dose of Ocean talk and count my blessings.