Getting older does not automatically mean getting wiser. But it often provides us with a chance to learn a little about ourselves.
I had one of those golden opportunities yesterday. Chatting with some colleagues over lunch reminded me of an undeniable truth: I seem to find a way to always veer the conversation in my direction.
No matter the topic — the talk went from work to news to study to family to and who knows what — instead of taking the time to discover some more about the people I was with, I repeatedly talked about me, a friend or family member mine.
At first sight, that seems harmless enough: the same way I could be using the time with others to learn about these people, they have the chance to understand me just a tad bit more. The problem is that tad bit is a constant, resulting in all the discussion around me and my life being too much.
It’s hard to prove my point statistically: I have no data on how many times first person singular pronouns flood the conversations and chats with the people I know, nor is there record of the turn taking in my favor during these talks.
One thing that may prove the point is how terrible I usually am at answering questions about the lives of the people who interact with me. A clear sign I either don’t pay attention or I am too preoccupied with my own life.
That said, probably one of my goals for this year should be around Hemingway’s advice:
