Squigglyruth and l'esprit d'escalier
Jun. 22nd, 2004 09:45 pmSigh. I thought I had a nice title for this post, but while checking on the French spelling, I discovered that my understanding of the phrase is broader than is generally accepted. So if you were hoping for a brilliant, if delayed, riposte to something
squigglyruth said to me, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed.
Anyway, first let me say what happened. We were playing "Articulate" at Angharad's house on Saturday. This is a fun game involving rapid descriptions of words. I'm not a fast thinker, nor a fast talker, so wasn't very good (well, OK at the descriptions, terrible at the guessing). When I was on Squigglyruth's team, she pointed out a few times where I wasn't so crap. I thought she did this particularly skilfully, and remarked that maybe she had picked this up in teacher training. She was a bit embarrassed by this.
I've done this before: remarked on a noteworthy characteristic of a friend, making them self-conscious about a positive trait of theirs. I'm usually very unobservant about the people around me, and can rarely describe people's character. So when I notice something I can put into words, I blurt it out. I mean it as a complement (I wouldn't say it if that wasn't the intention, since I very very rarely intend to offend), though they don't always take it as such.
Squigglyruth, it's a good thing that you know how to complement people effectively. Just because I think you might have learnt this as part of your teacher training, doesn't make it less of a good idea. Please don't become self-conscious about it.
Have I compound my faux-pas by posting this in public? I hope not. I don't think I really offended Squigglyruth (if I did, I hope she'll say and I can apologise properly), but I thought this was pleasantly recursive (here I am worrying about complementing someone badly on their complementing skills). And maybe LiveJournal is the answer to "l'esprit d'escalier". I like the image evoked by the phrase (on the stairs, leaving a french apartment), and often find myself reviewing conversations from an evening and considering what I thought of some of the more interesting comments. The downside is when I realise that I said something stupid, and there's now no way to take it back. Or thinking how nice it would have been to pursue a particular train of conversation, but it veered onto something else. In this case, maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
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Anyway, first let me say what happened. We were playing "Articulate" at Angharad's house on Saturday. This is a fun game involving rapid descriptions of words. I'm not a fast thinker, nor a fast talker, so wasn't very good (well, OK at the descriptions, terrible at the guessing). When I was on Squigglyruth's team, she pointed out a few times where I wasn't so crap. I thought she did this particularly skilfully, and remarked that maybe she had picked this up in teacher training. She was a bit embarrassed by this.
I've done this before: remarked on a noteworthy characteristic of a friend, making them self-conscious about a positive trait of theirs. I'm usually very unobservant about the people around me, and can rarely describe people's character. So when I notice something I can put into words, I blurt it out. I mean it as a complement (I wouldn't say it if that wasn't the intention, since I very very rarely intend to offend), though they don't always take it as such.
Squigglyruth, it's a good thing that you know how to complement people effectively. Just because I think you might have learnt this as part of your teacher training, doesn't make it less of a good idea. Please don't become self-conscious about it.
Have I compound my faux-pas by posting this in public? I hope not. I don't think I really offended Squigglyruth (if I did, I hope she'll say and I can apologise properly), but I thought this was pleasantly recursive (here I am worrying about complementing someone badly on their complementing skills). And maybe LiveJournal is the answer to "l'esprit d'escalier". I like the image evoked by the phrase (on the stairs, leaving a french apartment), and often find myself reviewing conversations from an evening and considering what I thought of some of the more interesting comments. The downside is when I realise that I said something stupid, and there's now no way to take it back. Or thinking how nice it would have been to pursue a particular train of conversation, but it veered onto something else. In this case, maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.