The way we speak, and how we speak it

There are two parts to spoken or written conversation: content and process. Content is the actual thing you are speaking about, the sum of conversation and what people are convinced is the thing that actually matters in human interaction. Process is how we speak to one another, how we relate the things that come out of our mouths or flow from our finger tips. Some people have fantastic content they come up with in their minds, but lack the ability in process to keep people engaged and interested in what you are saying, because how you are saying it is treacherously boring. Still others have absolutely nothing relevant to say in their content, and yet they possess fantastic powers of process, twisting people and entertaining them and convincing those whom they speak to that they must be interesting, because they engage people so well.

My personal observation of myself is that I lack the abilities of both process and content. It appears that to me in a great deal of the time I speak to people, anyhow. The content I have in my end seems endlessly entertaining, engaging and worth a couple laughs. Yet when the words flow over my tongue, escape my lips and ring out into dead air, the palpable silence I hear is painful. It feels like needles poking holes in my heart. It's painful and intolerable and horribly depressing. I don't know why I can't get the content straight, after twenty one years of books and movies and television and reading and education. In all that time, I would have figured some worthwhile content would have been generated.

Yet, there's hope for me in the process, correct? Even if what I have to say is banal and dry, at least it sounds interesting, right? Wrong. My weakness in process is even worse than that of my content. When I speak, I unconsciously pitch my voice to this strange, "You should be laughing at what I am saying" sort of tone, setting up for a punchline that never arrives. I guess that's what my fatal flaw is: I'm setting up for a punchline every time I open my mouth, but there isn't a punchline that will ever come. I'm pretty certain this is why I can never be a stand up comedian, because my sense of timing is terrible. Delivery is key not only in stand up, but in conversation as well. If you can't deliver a hammering blow to your points, make things stick and drive them into the heart of you audience, you don't have a snowball's chance in hell. Because snowballs and cold, and hell is hot, so the snowball would melt. Alright? Glad we could clear that up.