Tuesday, November 22, 2005

The fine art of communication

I have had a strange day. My presentation went off without a hitch today! My technology worked, I had a handful of people out, I didn't flush red, and people seemed grateful for me being me and the information that I disseminated. Transit home worked smooth - my train rocked up pretty quick, and my bus was waiting at the station. An easy end to a long day.

Until I called my mother.

All of my communication skills mean nothing when I talk to her. I love her dearly, but it seems at times we speak two different languages. We approach life so differently, and how we interact with people. I think our five minute conversation quickly became terse, and we ended on a cheesy note in which I had an instant flashback of being any age, feeling frustrated with my mum and wondering how we got from A to H in less than 6 seconds flat. Those are the moments I want to lean over to my dad and tell him that I think it is good we are united in many of our personality traits, as it seems my brother and mum reflect each other a bit. I wonder about that - gender dynamics between siblings and their parents, and how each interacts. Dads look out for their girls, and mums look out for their boys.

Time to pull up with a good book, this week at times has already been a slog. Had a nice "not seeing eye to eye moment" about office temperatures yesterday. Well not much of a disagreement, apparently I can have a few vents moved and just cope. Out of spite I brought in an old sweater to wear, one that my gran used to have, my inheritance. So I can wrap myself in a big hug that reminds me of someone near and dear and change my own temperature and gripe about the battle I had no chance of even showing up to.

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