Small talk

As I was waiting at the Apple store to get my smartphone battery replaced and clicking away on my typewriter, a handsome gentleman sitting at the table across from me started asking about my device, and we struck up a conversation. I’m just always amazed at how sort of bad I am at small talk. I don’t know what it is about me; I spend most of my life with headphones on, trying to avoid these types of situations. I personally prefer to spend that time in my own head listening to a beautiful piece of music. The man I spoke to works in finance, which is the line of work of a good friend I just made, who’s actually also, I’ve noticed, really good with small talk. 

I’ve observed that the business type is really good at this kind of casual conversation. It is a small talk profession. There is a saying that people who are sort of “smarter”, I feel, have trouble with these types of personalities and ways of interacting. Not always and not everyone, but just a trend. I’ve heard that some people in the workforce have something against individuals who aspire toward a 4.0 GPA and peg them as the awkward, nerdy type. Yet, I’m neither awkward nor really a nerd. I’m just sort of better in some ways, and I think this mentality is used to justify not working as hard or getting more for less. I think most people in this world, at the end of the day, are still a bit lazy, at least compared to the 4.0 student. The average person is, by definition, average—but may still harbor a competitive drive. 

At WashU, many people I know who couldn’t handle the premed curriculum turned to the business school, which I’ve always found sort of interesting. At the end of the day, the amount of money made is about the same. Within our society, for better or for worse, I think there is currently such a strong focus on making money. For so many people in our society, success means amassing a lottery-style fortune and being able to stop working. I don’t know if that’s my personal definition of success. It sounds like a very mundane and potentially hedonistic life. I don’t know how I would respond to all that. 

As of now, pursuing architecture after a stint in neuroscience is a bit of a gamble. Neuroarchitecture as a field just sounds really out there. There are not many people doing that at the moment, partly because architects lack the knowledge to understand neuroscience, and neuroscientists are not architects. I would effectively be a bridge between the two very distinct fields, and I think I would be able to carve out a unique niche that very few people can inhabit. It would be really interesting, actually, to do that job.