Living at home again has brought out a very silent me. I've lived alone once before in my life, and when I would come home, it was peaceful, quiet, because there was no one to talk to but myself. This is different. I think I talk less now than I did when I lived alone.

I can remember thinking at different times in my life, especially in college, that I just have no reference for what to say in certain situations. I couldn't remember observing my parents having said much, or gotten themselves into many confrontational situations, particularly verbally. So a lot of what I would say would come from books or what I'd seen my friends parents saying.

Now being around these silent types so much again is really bringing this side out of me. I'm not talking much to anyone any more. It's rather contagious. When friends ask me to go out lately, I say that I'm probably going to stay in. I don't want be around a bunch of talking and laughing people having a lot of fun, because I know that I'll have to pretend that I'm having fun too.

Funny thing is I think we're all chatter boxes once we leave the confines of our dinner table. It was always weird to me, to hear my brother on the phone right after we had spent all of dinner in Chili's, the only words spoken to the waitress. All this silence, and then we're in the car and Jimmy gets on the horn: "Yeah bro. Well call Brian, he can fill in, yeah, right on, give me a call later okay?" Next phone call: "Is Sarah there? Sarah, can you tell Trav to be there at 10. Yeah, then afterward we'll get some grub. Yeah, I can probably get you in. Are you gonna be there tonight?" Then beepity beep beep beep. And we're all back to Vaughn mode in the car on the way home from dinner.

And I've been blaring the lyrics to a song lately with my sunroof popped at night, no sun, and no where to go, which say something like this: "When I used to go out, I knew everyone I saw, now I go out alone, if I go out all."