I teach Speech/Public Speaking (we just started calling in Oral Communication. It’s all the same). I have the class do an exercise where they think of a conversation or situation they’d like to do over. And then I have them do it over. Because I am obsessed with shit I said/did, wrongs against me from 1988. If only I could have done, would have said. If only. But usually there’s no opportunity because sometimes it’s a random person on the train versus a family member or someone I see regularly.

Years ago, I was standing on the metro platform and as the train approached I started walking toward the doors. A woman beside me was standing still, so I’m sure it appeared to her that I was simply trying to get in front of her or get on before her. Neither was true. She said, while looking at me then rolling her eyes, “Ignorant.” To this day I wish I would have said something other than, “Who’re you talking to?” Because 1. I think it came out “Who you talking to” instead and 2. I have so many words. I remember glancing at her as we rode and she was already looking at me. She did this “What” face at me and all I remember thinking is I should get off when she does, trip her up, and get back on. I’ve repeatedly analyzed the way she looked at me and wonder would that happen now. The way things are going in the world, in this city even, would she have the audacity to look at me with the “Step up, bitch” face? I tend to think so, because she believed she was right. I was being ignorant and then had the nerve to look at her.

I started making up things I could say to rude people, depending on the situation so I would be prepared with a comeback. So many times people say they think of something witty days later. It’s ok. I’ve dedicated an entire class period to the Do Over.

One student redid a proposal (he did it publicly and regretted it immediately after). One redid an answer during a job interview that she was convinced was the reason she didn’t get hired. Of course we all know the proposal doesn’t change and the job is still not hers, but the exercise is rooted in catharsis. I have cussed the lady on the train out 14 different ways to Sunday and I’m not tired of it yet.

It may seem as though we’re feeding into a seeming inability to let go, and I agree about the letting go part, but not being unable. Voicing your do over makes it concrete. It makes you feel better when you get out the words you wish you would have said. I don’t look at it as a pointless exercise because if it brings someone any bit of closure or comfort to cuss out the bus driver who rudely closed the door and pulled off as soon as they got to the stop? Do it over and let him have it. Jerk.

There’s an exercise I have my students do in class. I call it The Um Challenge. But, it’s more like the Um, Uh, Ah, Like, So, Right, Boom, Nahmean, Nahmsayin’ Challenge.

At the start of the semester, I have them speak on a topic of their choice for a minute trying not to say um. It’s cute. I say that knowing full well that you understand it is the most uncute thing. When I ask you NOT to say a word, your brain immediately zeroes in on that forbidden word and is all this one? this one? this one? Say it! Say it! Say it!

No. Don’t say it. We’re trying not to. But the brain sees it, and —

But. You know this topic. Just keep talking. Don’t worry about the um or like or boom! Check it, or nahmean. You don’t lose points. And you um it up.

Now we’re midway through class. Midterms. Speak on a topic of YOUR choice for two minutes. You can do this, but yooooooo two minutes is tough, y’all. You say um and the other filler words, but noticeably less. You are proud because the professor who asks for candy is actually making you better at something. She suggests you record yourself to see your own mannerisms, tendencies. Watching and listening to oneself makes one pay attention to — one. That’s awkward, huh? Listen to yourself, watch yourself, and figure out how to make your charm and her talent work for you.

Now we’re at the end. Three minutes, bitches. Speak. Lose the filler words. Think before you speak. Say no word you don’t mean. Pause as long as you need to. Don’t fill with um or uh because you neither are, nor will be, President Barack Obama. You wish.

And look at that. You said um maybe once. Or, more likely, you didn’t.

Now what?

Trust. Do you ever wonder how often you offer it to others? How often it’s awarded to you? I thought this morning (not for the first time) about how I am trusting the bus driver to not drive us into a ravine. I am trusting the lady at the bus stop with the overdrawn eyebrows to not stab me in the side for laughing with my eyes at her brows when I get on the bus. I’m trusting the kid beside me clutching his stomach to not barf to his right.

I don’t know these people or their lives. I don’t know if they were broken up with last night. I don’t know if the cereal was bad this morning. I don’t know if years upon years of an unspeakable something has taken its toll and now this person has decided to manufacture a bomb, put it under a coat, walk into a grocery store and push the button. I don’t know.

**

I sit sideways on the bus sometimes. I teach a 7-8:20pm class some nights and might not make it home until after 9. I am a considerate professor, though, and most nights we’re done by 8. But my commute makes me not get home until after 9 and sometimes, on the bus, I need to be aware. So, sideways. Nothing is at my back but the window (which I could be shot through and what a world to live in where that is a genuine consideration) and I can see the oils/movies/wigs dude on one side and the oil/wigs/bitch fix your nails wanna buy some polish lady on the other.

I’m really just fascinated by how much stock we put in others to not maim us. How do you know today isn’t the day your coworker decides to show you her knife skills? By using them on you? You don’t. And it makes me wonder. The bus driver who says good morning when you board and have a good day when you exit? She’s an anomaly. And she might abuse puppies. Most of us on the bus respond to her when we board, but we question each other as the ride continues. It’s necessary, though, to be aware of one’s surroundings. Is she swerving? Muttering? Is she finna take us off the road for whatever reason?

Trust no one. You don’t know if today is the day.

I’m in that odd blogging space where the kids are too old to write about like I did when they were little and couldn’t tell me to stop. One is in college, one is in high school, and the youngest would probably tell me to stop but he hasn’t found my blog yet, so I’m feeling sort of safe for now.

It’s weird. I started this blog in 2008 as a way for me to vent about everything and anything because it was MY space. It morphed into a hodgepodge of just that — everything and anything. Now I don’t know what to do. Is it my space again, about me, only me? (Was it ever, really?) I know I can make it whatever I want it to be, but that’s the thing. I don’t have a clue what I want it to be.

It’s like I called a time-out but when the play resumed, I didn’t know what was happening.

Hit in the head too many times. I haven’t been, really, and it’s not even funny to imagine that was true. Unless, of course, you imagine me getting hit in the head by a goat I was headbutting for farm cred. I think that would actually be pretty funny. I also don’t live on a farm.

Farm cred isn’t a thing. Or, maybe it is. For the chickens. Where in the absolute hell was I going with this?

Oh, the time-out. I have to figure out what I can still safely share about the boy since the girls are off limits. I have to figure out what I want to share about myself — where I am, where I’m going, the things that life is showing me. I know a bit, but I don’t know it all. Long gone are the lamentations over lack of sleep, blowout diapers, is my kid reading on the same level as yours or above as I think he should be since he’s smarter than everyone. Maybe we can figure it out together.

Time’s in.