Grappling with Conversational Inadequacy

The things that I find interesting to talk about feel like a social taboo

I’ve developed a strange sense of inadequacy when talking with certain types of people. We’ll be catching up or making conversation and as we fill each other in, I’ll realise that what I have to contribute isn’t on the same wavelength as them. I’ll go on about a movie I saw that week or the book that I’m currently reading, then they’ll retort with some terrible news or how they’ve been adulting lately. It’s a dull game of Pong between music and finances, philosophy and health, nature and work. I struggle to think of anything valuable to add, which can make the conversation glib and awkward. Their lives may not necessarily be exciting, but what they get up to certainly seems more significant than what’s happening in my own.

This could be a result of two things. One, it’s the wrong person, time or place for waxing lyrical on something that I’m passionate about. Or two, I’m making absolutely no sense and freaking them out a little bit. Maybe it’s both. But it got me thinking, am I immature? Could I be pretentious? Even worse, boring? God forbid I try to slip some appreciation for art, personal reflection or social commentary into everyday conversation. Then again, perhaps this mild case of tall poppy syndrome stems from the dissatisfaction with my own life at the moment. I guess that I’m in what you could call a transitional period. But if I truly don’t envy or resent them for their mundane success or unwanted drama, why does it bother me so?

I’m beginning to wonder if this emotional deficit is a measurement of my insecurity. Since going part-time and focusing on my creative endeavours, I’ve felt like a bit of a freeloader, only writing articles and watching movies. I justify this by saying that it’s part of my cultural education and allows space for me to sharpen my skills as a critic, but who am I kidding? Of course, I pay bills and buy groceries like everybody else, so I can relate to most at some level. But I also don’t have a house or a partner, let alone children. That may be a blessing in disguise, although I’m not doing much with my spare time. It’s strange to love and respect somebody with whom you have very little in common, but I often myself in their presence.

I generally find discussions about art to be the most fulfilling, even if it’s online discourse with strangers, but I get the vibe that many people I talk to in person find it irrelevant. I’m sorry, I can’t help it! I live and breathe the things that I love, so any conversation with me will probably touch on music, cinema or literature at some point. As selfish as it sounds, this means that I don’t particularly care for small talk. If I’m talking with a friend or family member, whether or not it interests me, I celebrate their wins and mourn their losses because I care about them. So I like to test the waters with a random, deep thought every now and then and I know whether to explore it further with them or abandon ship before their eyes glaze over based on their response.

As you’ve probably guessed, I love a good tangent – especially when somebody else comes along for the ride. I’ve had conversations with people about art that have spanned hours in a carpark at night. It’s how I managed to co-host a niche weekly podcast for two years. Put simply, art is a reason to live, and I’ve formed a deep connection with others who would agree with that statement. But I’m also aware that I’m a struggling artist at the pointy end of my twenties with no idea what I’m doing. The irony is not lost on me. However, the people whom I enjoy speaking with most have settled down and some are much older than me, so perhaps our unbridled conversations are a ray of light in their lives, just as they are to mine.

My friend Kody Roby and I talking about his debut novel Dead Man’s Detail with a live audience at Books@Stones in Brisbane last month.

So there are two sides to it. I don’t want to waste time on empty words, but I also feel like I have nothing worth saying when the other person is disengaged from my “big” talk. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that I’m smarter or better than anybody else. Rather the opposite. I feel like I’m lacking in the areas that make regular conversation easier. This is what I mean when I say that I’m the luckiest person I know. My life is kinda boring to be honest, which isn’t a bad thing. There are no notable events to disclose with another, so I resort to what I’ve been reading, watching and listening to instead because I can talk about those things at length any day of the week. The problem is that not everybody is receptive to it, which is totally fine.

I don’t want to make conversation for the sake of keeping up appearances. If we’re gonna talk, let’s get weird. Go deep. Tell me something that I can feel. We should make each other think and exchange notes, then follow up on the matter next week and see where we’re at. What beautiful moment made you smile today? Is there something on your mind that you want to talk out to make sense of it? Better yet, what have you been reading, watching or listening to? My boss likes to remind the team that we don’t always remember what people say or do, but we always remember how they make us feel. I just want everybody I talk with to leave the conversation fulfilled, inspired and maybe even changed – for the better, I hope.