Why don't people know how to talk?

For years, I've usually assumed that people don't want to talk to me because I'm a socially awkward homeschool freak with nothing to offer.  Finally, I've realized that this is not the case, by any means. Even though I'm the one who is apparently *whispers* socially challenged, my social skills are really not the problem.

Of course, maybe I am out of "the norm." But the norm is apparently being good at socializing, in which case chocolate has become vanilla, up has become down, left has become right, and I have become six feet tall.

Time and time again, I have been invited to parties. (Wow! Huh. How about that. I actually leave the house, what a gosh-darned miracle.) Typically, being an introverted person, I prefer small groups of people, but I am willing to venture out of that comfort zone from time to time.
"Why aren't you talking? Poor Rebecca, you don't know anyone! It must be hard to get out when you're homeschooled."

Um, no.

Actually, it's not that hard because I've been invited to this party.  I'm not talking because I don't know anyone.  I don't know anyone because you haven't introduced me.

Like, I honestly don't get people's problem.

How to introduce a person to another person:
"By the way, this is my friend, Becca. Becca, this is Bob." 

Wow!
Who ever thought it could be so easy? 

It's awkward to just start talking, it's awkward to introduce myself, it's awkward for me to not talk.  Honestly, it's all labeled as awkward because I'm the different one, I'm the outsider.  I really don't think anyone has taken the time to realize: oh, hey. Maybe I'm the one who isn't exercising proper social etiquette.

And of course I don't expect it to be like, "Miss Oakes, this is Mr. Brown.  Mr. Brown enjoys going to the opera, reading C.S. Lewis, and taking long walks on the beach.  He attended a wine tasting last Thursday and owns his own law firm."
Well I mean at this point I would marry Mr. Brown.
But it doesn't even need to be that formal.

"Yo this is Bob, he plays the guitar and likes Mayday Parade -- you do, too, don't you, Becca?"
wow.
a conversation starter given by a mutual friend

such unheard of
so difficult
wow~

Time and time again, I've been in small groups of people, when those small groups run into other people from their schools.  And that's fine, I'm totally down for talking to new people.  But I mean, it's sometimes helpful if I can be introduced.

I can recount numerous times when I have come out of my shell to introduce myself and begin a conversation, to which I have been met with odd looks and people staring at me like I'm a unicorn. (Or maybe a walking troll doll. It's less "wow so majestic" and more "why the hell is that midget potato talking to me?")

It's not like I walk up to random people and go: "Hi my name is Becca I am a Catholic homeschooler who reads all the time, eats a lot of cookies, anD LOvES JESUS!!!!!1!!/!~! Oh also i went to the hills of California to read books and pray for two weeks this summer and IT WAS AWESOME"
No.
It's more like:
"Hi, I'm Rebecca! I think I've seen you guys in those plays at your high school. I really liked the musical last spring!"

*cricket*
.... *cricket* 
..... "um....thanks?" 

Either my previous sentiment gives the vibe of WEIRDO ALERT, or people genuinely do not know how to talk to new people.

Allow the sheltered homeschooler to paint you a picture.

Me: ... I really liked the musical last spring!
Them: Wow, thanks! It was a really fun show to do.
Me: It looked like a lot of fun. Who did you play again?
Them: Oh, I played the brother.
Me: That's right! That part had some GREAT one-liners!
Them: Yeah, it was so funny! Do you do any acting?
Me: Yeah, a little! I used to take classes at . . .
(le conversation continues)

Congratulations! You have made a new friend! *applause, applause*


People have trouble venturing out of their circles.  I really have no circles, I just traverse amongst them on the grand search for a circle in which I may belong.  Because of that, I actually know a wider variety of people, I just don't have a tight circle of people.  Somehow, this makes me awkward.

Additionally, the fact that I like to have conversations is apparently quite out of the ordinary.
The fact that I don't like to walk up to a group of teenagers and go:

"so like yeah it's so weird when like people hold their phone like that cause it's like yeah i don't know it's like so weird like ugh wtf like i never hold my phone like that i mean like it's so dumb i always hold my phone like this but never like that it's just so effin' weird like *swear swear swear* yeah" 
And actual representation of a conversation I witnessed last night.

somehow the fact that I don't do this makes me socially inept?!?!?!?!?!!? and an aWKwaRD Lon3R lol wow

I don't mean that every conversation has to be about Plato or Socrates or Mozart (frankly, I would go insane.) But I like to talk about more than just the way people hold their phones and isn't it weird when people post stuff like that on twitter and hey i'm not actually really interested in talking to you, let me just put you in my phone so I can text you when I'm bored and you can send me YouTube videos that I haven't already seen four times.

I like to talk about music, activities, books, movies, TV shows, clothes, sports, traveling, the weather, food, candy, bands, school, coffee, history, math, work, anything really.

I can and will gladly talk about something!

What I have a problem with is talking about nothing.

Something More.

Honestly, I sometimes question my Faith.
I have received an education that has allowed me to see how it is logical that God exists, and that is logical that the Catholic Church is true.
Still, sometimes I have to think about it a bit on my own.

Even when I'm not reasoning my way to it, it feels like the Universe screams of God's existence.

I really can't explain it; but there's just so much to it.  There's so much to everything.  The universe is of incomprehensible magnitude; atoms are incomprehensibly small.  The amount of things in the world is incomprehensible.
There are a lot of things that are nearly impossible to comprehend.
Somehow, these things exist, and somehow, humankind is able to study them and understand them, use them to his advantage, and work with them.

Existence is immensely broad and rather overwhelming.

It seems that we have everything we should require, as citizens of this fine little speck, propelling its way around the sun at a lot of miles per hour in a lot of miles circumference continually, repeatedly, several bajillion times.

If we have perceived all there is to perceive, what more is there to desire?  If someone has never eaten chocolate, nor knows what chocolate is, can they crave it? If chocolate did not exist, could you desire it? Would it even be possible?

I've never had a million dollars. . . but I desire a million dollars.  I have never had a million dollars to miss possessing, and yet a million dollars sounds like a worthwhile thing to have.

What makes it possible for me to understand what having a million dollars means?  I can see the effects of those who have been in possession of such a sum of money. I can see their situation, and understand it; relating the cause (the money) with the effect (financial security...and fancy cars.)

I desire the effect, and I know the cause, even though I have never possessed it.
Somehow, my intellect works outside the realms of matter to allow me to understand this.
Why do we desire happiness if we have never been in complete, true possession of it?

It must exist, out there, somewhere.  And somehow, we're able to imagine it, but we can't quite grasp it.  It's just outside the realm of tangibility.

I believe that we can know these things because our souls are spiritual, and that there is a spiritual God who made it like this.

So when I think to myself, "there must be more than this," it's because there is.

Timoris

When I was little, I was terrified of physical pain; terrified to the point of missing out on memorable experiences.  I was so scared of getting hurt that I didn't want to learn to ride a bike, I never got past level one of gymnastics, I never tried the monkey bars at the playground, and I never swung too high.  I never climbed up to high places.  Certainly, I was not a risk taker.

Since then, I've grown past my fear of getting hurt.  I climb up on a rickety bar stool that's as high as my waist to get things off the top shelf in my closet; my legs harbor multiple battle wounds from hiking and running around outside.  I've almost fallen into the fish pond (twice), I've scraped myself and given myself splinters from hopping over the fence.  Frankly, the term: "You might fall and break your arm!" Doesn't scare me anymore. Sure, I might fall, and I might break my arm. If that happens, it will hurt.

Obviously, it's necessary to assess risks by their magnitude and likelihood.  Being free of fear does not mean one should advocate risky behavior; however, being free of fear means embracing the risks one chooses to take, regardless of the possible consequences.

The reality of physical pain is one which I have had experience with; I have realized that the risks outweigh the consequences.  Many good times have been had hiking and playing sports, things which I would have never attempted several years ago, even though they have resulted in scrapes, twisted ankles, headaches and bruises. Although I am no longer afraid of scraping my knee or breaking a bone, my anxieties have manifested themselves in numerous other ways.

Somehow, emotional pain and physical pain share little in common; for they are both types of pain, they far from synonymous.  It seems that one lies at the surface, while the other radiates from within.  One is caused by something on the outside, while the other is caused by allowing something inside that tore you apart.

Physical pain can be caused by disease, parasites, viruses; emotional pain is caused by love.

Unlike my experiences with physical pain, my experiences with emotional pain have not yet healed so as to provide me with the insight to objectively assess my risks.  I have never taken a risk that was worth it.  The risks which I have taken have torn me apart.

Emotionally, spiritually, I have been manipulated.  In the naivety of youth, I have not guarded my heart, and have been used.  My affections were experimental, and my love was an object.  I have learned that whenever there is love, there will be loss; for all that we know is contingent.

When you love, whether you are loving a pet, a parent, a friend, or a spouse, you take a risk.  You risk the hurt, the pain, the feeling of your very insides collapsing in on themselves.  You risk your very being, your very existence crying out in agony at the loss.  Perhaps you will be hurt by them -- or worse, you will be maimed by the separation from them.  Not separation merely in body, but in death.

Worst of all is the separation in spirit.  When someone you love is self-destructing, when you watch as they rip apart their very soul.  Their heart is as broken as yours, if not even more so, but you know that it is not in your power to help them.  All you can do is pray, guide, and understand.  Understanding is the hardest.

So far, I've taken a lot of risks that weren't worth taking.  I've seen others hurt from their gambles, and I've seen the hearts and souls of those I love ripped apart.  I just don't see how love is a risk worth taking.

And yet...
My brother's laughter,
The chirping birds,
My grandma's slippers shuffling across the tile,
My grandfather humming,
The hugs from my friends,
The taste of chocolate chip cookies,
The sound of my father's car pulling in the driveway when he comes home from work
These are all things loved,
And since they are contingent, they will all pass away.
But they are things that I would never wish away.

In some cases, eliminating the effect means eliminating the cause; love is one of those cases. By wishing away the pain, you wish away the love.  Life without love is empty.

Take your risks, but take them wisely;
For the giggles of my brother are not mocking,
The song of the birds will not betray me,
My grandma has only care and affection,
My grandfather's wisdom has since passed on,
The hugs from my friends lift my spirits but do not invade my soul,
Chocolate chips have no ill will...


Though my knees are accustomed to bruising and my body has grown strong, my heart has not yet healed so as to be empowered by loss.  I hope that one day very soon, I will be able to believe that love is worthwhile.
I'm still assessing the risk.

"Above all else, guard your heart; for all that you do flows from it." 

Proverbs 4:23

"Let's Cheers to This"

"I've got the whole world in front of me,
I won't let it go 'till I say:
This is my life,
Don't slip away,
Don't slip away."