I envy people who can talk. Talk about themselves.. talk about their past , their future and ofcourse their present in a large measure. I have always found it difficult to talk about myself. Something that has become pretty evident in the past few years. Perhaps coz these few years have made me realize that my life is no one else`s business but mine and a handful of other people`s.
It aint attitude. Its simple honesty.
I havn`t been able to fathom why people, who are but gonna live for a predefined number of minutes on this planet, should be subjected to a discourse on my life and my stuff , the contents of which are never gonna have any kinda bearing on how the remaining minutes of their lives are gonna shape up.
Perhaps this might explain my awful networking skills.
Forced smiles and conversations... The absence of which would lead to you being branded as unsocial, haughty, arrogant .. rude even.
A trend analysis of my relationships, with everyone who is and has been a part of my life, would throw up a very definitive result - That of they having thrived and flourished over the written word rather than the spoken one. Letters, e-mails, memos, chats (the online typing-dependent ones), diaries and ofcourse this very 'My Space' ... These are the means and modes where I have been able to open up a little about myself without guilt-tripping whether I`ve blabbered out too much too soon.
Im sorry if I don't respond well to "Whats up in Life ?". Im sorry if I dont have a witty repartee to "So howz it been since the last time we caught up?".
But I aint sorry to be fanatically possessive about my memories to blurt them out in casual conversations and be subjected to nonchalant indifferent reactions for the same.

(P.S. Yeah , Mood swings .. Too many .. Too often. Hopefully this too shall pass.)