This is addressed to people like me: people who talk too much.

Don't.

Just pick one day during which you decide you're not going to say more than you should. Or not even a whole day: an hour. A meeting. Half of a seminar. Time how long you can keep your mouth closed. Don't try to quit cold turkey: you'd fall off the wagon in 15 seconds.

There are several ways to do it. One of the easiest is just to skip one of your cups of coffee. When you cut down to just, say, three a day, it's amazing how bearable your company can become. Less energy, less hype, less cocksure belief that everyone is listening. Ideas fly less quickly through your brain. This gives you time to analyze them and realize that maybe they weren't as interesting as they seemed at first.

Listen to yourself. Notice if you tend to sound authoritative on subjects you know nothing about. If you have not read an off-campus newspaper in a week, try not to venture any political opinions at all. Don't quote any Great Writers. If you must quote them, be sure that you have actually read what you're quoting.

Do not correct anyone, no matter how wrong you think they are. For one thing, it's rude. For another, they could very well be right after all.

Watch the faces of the people you talk to. If they start to look in other directions as you speak, or if they nod absently at your rising intonations, stop talking. Ask them questions you think it will take them a while to answer.

Listen impartially to what you're saying. If it bores you, and it might, stop.

Do not boast, not even in a roundabout way. Do not discuss the weather.

Make no mention of your own appearance, workload, sleep schedule, or drinking habits. Eradicate meaningless elements like "you know" and "like" from your speech.

Do not grunt. Do not tell people, "I'll shut up now," because saying something like that is a contradiction. Be succinct.

Don't try too hard at this - you might strain something - but when you're really warmed up, try having an actual conversation in which the other person does most of the talking. Lose an argument gracefully. When you're really in practice, be convinced by something someone says.

Try being quiet in a seminar. Listen to the other students. Some of them are older than you are and probably know more. Notice that whatever idea you get, someone else will probably come up with it eventually. Don't raise your hand simply in order to agree with anyone.

Notice, out of purely linguistic interest, who says "abzurd" and who says "abssurd."

Notice that although the class as a whole can generally duplicate your thought processes, it can generally take them to a conclusion that would not have occurred to you. Try - just for a moment, try - taking notes.

Your self-opinion may drop a little as you get used to the idea - long acknowledged but pushed to the back of your mind - that everyone else is at least as insightful as you are. This deflation of your self-worth is a good thing. Be humble. Realize that you probably don't even have all that much to be modest about. You may like yourself less, but as you do, other people will like you more.

After class, go outside and sit on Old Campus. Loiter under a tree. Wave to people if you must, but do not greet them unless they specifically address you first. Listen to the sounds: wind in leaves, chatter of the passing students, perhaps the whoosh of a football overhead. The funny pattering above you is a squirrel. Listen. Notice.

This process of becoming silent is not unlike the Buddhist method of achieving enlightenment. (A much-simplified version, of course.) But while the Buddhist gradually becomes one with the world, the silenced babbler becomes one with himself.

The things you learn from others are invaluable. The things you learn from yourself are indescribable. Shouted opinions are generally oversimplified, like battle cries or rally slogans. Sentences spoken too fast are incomprehensible even to the speaker. The only way to think clearly is to have time.

When you're quiet for a while, you begin to notice things. Not just the rustle of the trees and the conversations of passersby: more than that. It even goes beyond what you learn from the other people who talk in seminars. When you're quiet, you begin to notice what you really think about things. You discover your own opinions, more articulated than they could ever be when you toss them off quickly in small talk. Make the time you need. Give yourself some peace and quiet.

You came to school to learn. Do it.

Rachel Trousdale, TC '96, offers her heartfelt respect to the people who did not need this advice.

Copyright 1995, The Yale Herald, Inc. All rights reserved.

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