If you think about it -- and I mean, not even heavily think about it, which I tend to avoid doing anyway -- the strangest aspect of our lives is communication. Talk. Chit-chat. Shooting the proverbial shit. "Oh sure, Jeff," you might say, the disdain evident in your voice, "you're full of it. There's nothing strange about the way I talk."
Listen to yourself. It's absurd. Here, I will only examine Dartmouth's speech community, although every place has its own particular dialects, etc. Let us look at a typical dialogue, starting with the conversation initiation. We'll use me as everyone's favorite guinea pig.
I'm walking along in the Hop, and I see someone I used to talk to in English 478 coming down the hall. The person sees me, but we're too far away to actually say any greeting. So what do we do? We break eye contact and pretend to not see each other until we're within speaking range. What is this, anyway? I see this person, but I pretend not to see this person until it is acceptable to see this person? Well, we know that the alternative would be to shout a greeting at a distance, which has two possible shortcomings: A. everyone will stare at the moron who just shouted across the Hop, or B. this person will continue his pretense of ignoring me, and thus I will look the total fool. So, I walk along, and then we both look up and feign surprise when we come near each other. "Hey, how's it going, Ralph?"
Freeze-frame. Rewind. "Hey, how's it going --" There. Stop the tape right there. Why did I just say, "How's it going"? Am I really concerned with how things are going for Ralph? Probably not, but let's play devil's advocate and say that yes, I am. Even with this consideration, why would I immediately jump in with this question? I did not say Hello or even Hi to our friend Ralph. I said, "Hey, how's it going?" It's like there's some reflex in me to say this, and that to form some alternate greeting would be physically impossible. We have to hope that Ralph is on his toes, because here is a question being fired at him at the onset of our conversation. What if Ralph says "Good" automatically, and then wishes to change his answer later? Does he still win the porcelain dinnerware?
So Ralph says "Good" and then, as a matter of reciprocity, says, "You?" Now I am required to answer in a likewise cheery manner. If I say, "Life sucks and then you die," then it would seem that my original question of "How's it going?" was merely a selfish ploy to get him to ask me back so I could complain about my day. Thus, I say, "Oh, good, good," even if I have some terminal illness or my girlfriend has just run away with the snowplow man. Now it is up to the cleverer chap to continue the conversation, which has at this point reached a standstill. I say, "Well, how about this weather?"
Ralph's response is to laugh. I'm not talking about a hearty chuckle or an energetic guffaw, but sort of a low chuckle. Now is Ralph laughing at what I'm saying? What's so funny about the weather? Or is he laughing at me am I a fool for talking about the weather? No: Ralph is employing a common tool of dialogue, the sympathetic laugh. We all do it. Watch for this laugh. It doesn't mean anything, has nothing to do with humor. It's to signify that we identify with what the person is saying. "Huh," Ralph chuckles. "Yeah snowin' out there."
Thank you, Ralph. If it were not for your ingenious observation, I might have gone outside and completely missed the white flaky substance falling through the air. At this point in the conversation, I realize that I have things to do, and I can tell by Ralph's taciturn response that he is in the same position. So now there is the final dilemma. Do I say, "Bye, Ralph"? No that seems too short, too curt. And do I say "Talk to you later, Ralph"? No that has been reserved for phone and Instant Messenger good-byes, even though I WILL most likely talk to Ralph when I see him next. Instead, I must use "See you later, Ralph!" which becomes "Syalater, Ralph!" Then, Ralph has the option of using his own "Syalater", or, now "Bye" is acceptable. And the conversation ends.
So, gentle reader, now arm yourself with the knowledge of how ridiculous we are, and watch for the pretend-ignore, the How's-it-going, the sympathetic laugh, and the Syalater. And above all, have fun. Because, we really are silly.
