talk

My mother has dubbed me "mouth deficient." I cannot whistle, I cannot blow up a balloon. It took me forever to learn how to suck out of a straw. In high school, I convinced myself that I could not chew with my mouth closed because I wouldn't be able to breathe (disregarding the fact that I have a nose which functions perfectly fine). As summer dragged on, I would get more and more anxious because I would soon be able to eat my meals in the school cafeteria or in the break room at work without my parents begging me to please just close my mouth.

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My mouth and my mind move at the same speed. I have been told that I have to slow down, not because I'm saying too much or I'm not explaining myself, but literally because others do not know what words just came out of my mouth.

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I am sitting in a third floor cubicle in the library watching someone try to parallel park, because this is obviously much more interesting and productive than writing my term paper. I am doing a comparative analysis of the EU and NATO, arguing that the reason why the former has not developed a common security policy is because the latter makes one virtually unnecessary. Someone has just sat down in the cubicle opposite me and started sucking violently through a straw. I would like to punch her in the back of the head. The thought of simply asking her to be quieter has not yet occurred to me.