All talked out

Someone told me that I need to be a better listener. I just can’t remember who.
It’s not my fault that my siblings / coworkers / in-laws / chauffeur chatter like they’ve just discovered the First Amendment.
I’m one of those strong, silent types. I like cool looks. I like cool sunglasses. I like cool reflective lenses.
You’d be surprised how often you can fall asleep in those mid-conversation, wake up, and hear the other person still talking.
All right, so I may not actually close my eyes in the car. I don’t have a chauffeur, so I have to watch the road.
But I still want to close my ears when I’m driving, because most of the time I have my sister / dog / kid cousin / annoying jerkwad of a family friend in the back seat.
For some reason I cannot fathom, it is extremely illegal to chuck those people or animals out of a vehicle going 60 mph.
Okay, fine. Maybe I just don’t like conversations because I’m awkward in public, or because the moment someone starts yammering, my brain goes: “ ”
Blank space. White noise. Or maybe it’s the other way around.
It’s not like I don’t try to listen. Every now and then, a phrase worms its way in and spins across the void.
“Is it 401(k), or 401k, or four-hundred-and-one-K…”
“What’s your position on ecclesiasticism within the global political economy…”
“Bark…”
I can barely get to the grocery store without a GPS. How am I supposed to contribute to a discussion on the ideal ratio of health insurance to mortgage payments?
I play my part the only way I know how. I shut up and listen.

If I’m lucky, someone natters until they tire themselves out, shakes my hand, and we forget about how many parentheses go in a 401((k)).
If I’m unlucky, which is a lot more often, they tell me I’m not listening hard enough. And when I protest, they steal my earmuffs and reflective sunglasses.
Surely if I’m going to deal with word vomit, I’m allowed some eye and ear protection. Pardon me for not inflicting myself upon other people.
But I suppose silence is its own affliction. Or infliction. Or whatever.
I’ve gotten really good at being quiet. But that doesn’t mean I’ve become a good listener. And even being a good listener doesn’t mean being a good responder.
I’ve also gotten really good at talking. So good, in fact, that I forgot you can still communicate in silence. And sometimes, even if you’re communicating silently, you still need to shut up.
Whew, those were terrible sentences. Awkward as heck. Conjunctions all over the place. Yeesh.
Good thing I didn’t say them out loud.
Perhaps that makes me a great communicator, and perhaps it don’t.
I wish I could say that all this reflection and analysis would help me, like, have a position on ecclesiasticism within the global political economy, but it doesn’t.
I think it just helps me drift into a power nap in the middle of a conversation.
So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll put these sunglasses back on.

Copyright 2025 Alexandra Paskhaver, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.