Pathological Reticence

MS is horrible and debilitating and all of that, but it does have its benefits. I would be remiss and disingenuous if I didn't admit this. No longer do I have a reason to suffer through societal pleasantries, although this does not imply that I act rudely or mean that I exude truculence constantly. I can simply pick and choose who suffers through my occasionally soporific and insipid anecdotes. Still, I'm not completely free from the speech of others, of course. For instance, as a testament to my moderate but existent tolerance, I would never say, as Emerson said, "That which I can gain from another is never tuition, but provocation."

This past Saturday, I attended a friend's sister's "Open House" (Midwesterners know what I'm talking about; for others, this is a high school graduation, pre-collegiate party or gathering of well-wishers, family, and friends.) At this open house I sequestered myself in the pleasant sun room, and greeted whoever came in from the outside. Most of the people I had no problem with, and even thought they were delightful. One person in particular, though, I could never quite endure. A sense of entitlement emanated from him and his khaki shorts. I've said it many times before, but I suspect he's one of those people who actually have no internal monologue. Such people do exist, I'm convinced.

In the past, I'd have muttered a snide comment or have had thoughts of his vaporization and immediate nonexistence. At that moment, though, I didn't care. I really didn't. I fear this is how I would be at any school reunion. Endless greetings would meet only my silence. My reticence, though, would reveal my aloofness rather than a non-existent snobbishness.

I understand the irony of talking about being silent. Nevertheless, sometimes I just want to shut up, and I'm sure others feel the same.

Rick