No More Talkie

People keep a talkin’
They don’t say a word
Jaw, jaw, jaw, jaw, jaw – Creedence Clearwater Revival “Commotion

I’m one of those people who enjoys silence. Unfortunately, I don’t get it much.

When I go to my dads, I do so for two reasons. One is to see him, and one is to get some peace and quiet. Except it’s counterproductive, because he likes to talk. And talk. And talk. I can’t fucking deal with that. I just can’t. It doesn’t matter if I’ve heard all of his stories 100 times over again, it has to do with him flapping his lips nonstop. I mean nonstop. My wife and I went to visit one day. We wanted to do some fishing and get out of the house. My dad talked the entire time we were there. I mean that literally. For six hours he spoke. There was no break in his talking, there was no breathing. He just spoke constantly. We left hours earlier than we wanted to because he talked us to death.

I hate to say it, but when he gets like that I actually don’t hear much of what he says. It’s just sort of a blur of words and noise. I understand he’s talking, and I know what he’s talking about, but I try not to focus on it. It’s not important that I do, so I try to block him out. It’s just impossible to do it.

He’s the kind of person who, if you tell him you’ve heard it before, he’ll acknowledge that you’ve heard it before, and he’ll STILL TELL YOU THE FUCKING STORY. Because he HAS TO FUCKING TALK. Why? Why does anybody NEED to fucking talk?

One time I was sitting, looking at the lake. He was standing right in front of me, talking. And he would walk back and forth, because he couldn’t stand still, while he was talking. Just two or three steps, from my right arm to my left arm. He would stand in one spot for five seconds, if that, and then turn and step over to the other side. For an hour. I had my legs stretched out and had to pull them in so he could walk past them. Each. And. Every. Time.

Because he loves to talk and he has nobody to talk to on a daily basis. Which isn’t entirely true, but he can talk to me about things he can’t talk to anybody else about. Not that he needs to talk about them at all. But for some reason, he NEEDS to talk or he’ll explode.

The absolute worst (none of that was) is when I spend the night. Whether I’ve had too much to drink or whatever. When I wake up, I need silence. I can’t talk. I have a hard time focusing on all that talk when I’m wide awake. I can’t fucking do it when I just woke up. As soon as he sees me in the morning, he stars talking. Cause that much has happened in his day already that he needs to bombard me with talk.

I would tell him to shut it, and I would LOVE TO, but he would get so pissed off and I don’t want to piss him off. So I let him do it. And it drives me insane.

My dog is the same way. He’s such a fucking pussy. Whine. Whine. Whine. All the time. Whine. That’s all he fucking does. I’m to my breaking point. Recently his age started getting to him. Not that he’s old. An 8 year old black lab isn’t too old. But his joints are stiff on him now and he has almost no power in his back legs. He’s on medicine for the joints, and it helps, but now all he does is whine. He doesn’t know what he wants. He can barely move, so naturally that’s all he wants to do.

Go outside. Come in. Go outside. Come in. More than usual, which was always bad enough. If I let one dog out and he doesn’t want to get up, he won’t go out. No, he’ll want to go out a minute or two after I let the other dog in. And he’ll whine. Whine. Whine. Whine. Whine. Whine. Whine.

He used to get up and look at me when he wanted something. He’d wag his tail. And he’d whine. Now he doesn’t. He just lays where ever he’s at and whine. It’s not so important that he gets up and looks at me, or wags his tail. But it’s important enough that if I didn’t say anything or act on it, he’d whine for hours, nonstop.

Just now I was awakened by my wife letting him in from outside. He laid down. I asked my wife what time it was and since he heard me awake, he started whining. Because my outside is different than her outside. If I let him outside it means something. So he whined. I just woke up, but he didn’t care. He whined. And he kept whining until I got up to let him out. He had JUST COME IN. He went out for a minute and wanted back in because “Oh yeah, I was already out here.”

That’s how bad he is. He’s gotten to a point where he whines out of habit and not necessity. He doesn’t need anything, he just wants to make noise.

Never mind that when he’s outside all he wants to do is bark. Nothing is going on, no noises, no nothing. He just wants to bark. I’ve watched him do it. He looks in no particular direction. There’s no look of alarm or emergency on his face. He’s just barking. Also, if I go out with him, he won’t bark. As soon as I come in, he barks.

It’s all about noise. I can’t stand anything that needs to make noise. Why can’t there just be quiet? Why? I’m to the point where I’m ready to put my dog down because he won’t shut the fuck up. I’m ready to have my dad put to sleep because he won’t shut the fuck up. I just want silence. Is that too much to ask?

That’s why I really don’t want kids, because some kids, as soon as they learn how to talk, fucking talk. With no end in sight. They just talk. They tell their stories and nothing they say makes sense. They aren’t even speaking in English most of the time. They just talk. I can’t deal with it. I need silence. Why can’t I just have some silence? But more importantly, why is it a necessity with some to talk or make noise constantly? What’s the purpose? What’s the point?

“Silence is golden.” That wouldn’t be a saying if it weren’t true, right?

4 responses to “No More Talkie

  1. There are two people in my life who also still tell you the story again when you’ve JUST said, “I know, you told me, ….” and skip right to the ending. Still they must tell the story. The other day, one of them complained to me about someone else doing the same thing. Said she’s worried so-and-so is getting dementia. JFC. Pot, kettle, kettle, pot.

    • LOL Yup, that’s the worst part about those who do it. They don’t know they’re doing it. On my dads birthday this year he had a terrible day. To make him feel better, I asked him about his life. He spent the next few hours telling me all about it. And amazingly, I learned some new stuff I had never known, so it wasn’t too terrible, plus he wasn’t in a bad mood anymore. The biggest problem with him is, whether he does it on purpose or not, he doesn’t tell every story exactly like it happened. I’ve caught him a few times telling things differently or completely lying. So when he feels it necessary to talk that much, I’m even more pissed off knowing what he’s telling me might not even be true, AND he HAS to tell it to me lol.

  2. Talkie = Baaad…Quiet = Goood…Shhh or as not so polite company might say..STFU!

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