Never Walked In High Heels

“It is a tale told by an idiot,

Signifying nothing.”

It is a very curious phenomenon which can make a person actually question his own sanity, but ever since I entered college, I sometimes wonder if I’m losing my mind. It doesn’t happen when I’m alone, just when I’m listening to my superiors. This strange occurrence is taking hold of every sector of our lives and seem to be spreading like a virus. Soon we will be having national competitions in the amazing ability to talk for hours and say nothing. 

I recognize that due to my disability, some communication problems are evident. Despite being an award winning speaker, comedian, and a RADA trained actress, there is still the occasional idiot I run into who insists on talking to my friend rather than me. I still politely remind waitresses that they weren’t listening when they got an order wrong. And on the occasions that I bump into people who say they can’t understand me, I just bring up that it must be really annoying to only understand one language. They always understand that part. But this is not what I’m referring to.

I have heard people, at terrifyingly high levels, go into a full monologue which I can’t even begin to pull a thesis out of. This extract is from a email I received from a professor concerning a room hire:

“If you think this not large enough there is a rehaersal space ( Space 1) which could hold  70. This is free in April but having given me dates they now want to confirm on Monday what is actually available.” 

What?

OK, Beyond the basic grammatical errors, does this make any sense? A room is free in April but they need to confirm if it’s actually available. Is it free or not? If it is free, why are we waiting for confirmation? If we don’t know, why are you making it sound as if we’ve discovered something? Why can’t you just be clear and give me some information? 

It is like when you ask a friend if she liked a movie, and she says, “Well, I liked it, but I didn’t.” That actually doesn’t tell you anything because in truth she doesn’t know if she liked the movie in herself. She won’t give you a clear answer because she can’t. But to hide the fact that she doesn’t know the answer she veils herself in double talk which is, of course, impossible to decipher. Now she doesn’t look foolish, you just feel stupid. 

What makes matters more disturbing is this language schism seems to go both ways. The second I ask a direct question, a teacher stares at me blankly, and I’m wondering if I’ve slipped into Greek without meaning to. Hello? Can you hear me? Is this thing on?

“So can we rent a room or not?”

And there’s about five seconds of silence before an incomprehensible attempt at an answer.

“Well… er… as I just said…”

Really, if you don’t know the answer, just say so rather than wasting time.  When did we get to a point where we have lost nearly all capacity to communicate? So quickly we want to forget that words mean something that it feels like we have no desire to be held accountable to what we say. If it sounds like I know what I’m saying, I don’t actually have to think about it. 

When I was very little, I would listen to adults talk, sometimes getting lost in the conversation that would sashay above my head. I wondered when I’d be old enough to follow what was being said. Now I look at the students I teach and see them wondering the same thing. Sometimes I can’t help but lean over them, probably stepping way out of my bounds as a teacher, and whisper:

“Sometimes, if you can’t understand what an adult is talking about, its because the adult doesn’t know either.”