Delightfully inconsistent

I heard from someone who actually read my blog! I've been including the link at the bottom of a letter I've sent to let people know that I left my job. I only know of of two people who followed the link. Even that minuscule response makes this all a lot more real. So I decided to update.

I met with some public health colleagues yesterday. They were curious about my new career and asked how I came to become a Pilates teacher. Oh boy, you want to be careful when you ask that question. The floodgates opened and, before I finally realized what was happening, I started to gush. It turns out that I am a Pilates zealot. I'm totally into it and I am perhaps a tiny bit deluded that other people want to hear everything I love about Pilates.

I am now convinced this was an incidence of what I have come to call "inappropriate communication syndrome," or ICS. I coined the term to describe a trait that runs in my family. My Dad does it, two of my brothers do it, and now, apparently, I do it too. It happens when the person speaking fails to register the bored, shocked, and/or embarrassed expressions on the faces of those listening. Some listeners inadvertently enable ICS by working very hard to look interested. Typically, these are polite people who do not wish to appear rude by saying, "Whoa, hold the phone, that is enough about Pilates, Peter F. Drucker, your digestion problems, or whatever."

However, as with all crimes against humanity, it really isn't fair to blame the victim. People who indulge in ICS should monitor what they are saying and stop occasionally to see if, for example, the perceived need for deep background on the origins of the "trapeze table" has been filled.

I shall pray for the strength to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference.