Walking on Conversational Eggshells: Silence to True Self

Song Of The Week

Ever had a track that feels like a lazy Sunday afternoon wrapped in a cozy blanket? That’s exactly the vibe “Slowly Spinning Room” by OK Houston delivers—a quirky little groove that spins just slow enough to get stuck in your head without begging for the dance floor.

From the first jangle of jangly guitars to the gently swaying rhythm section, this song feels like it was brewed in a backyard shed somewhere between nostalgia and a caffeine-fueled daydream. The vocals are laid-back but hooky, telling a story that’s both oddly specific and universally fuzzy—kind of like when you try to remember exactly why you walked into the kitchen but end up pondering the mysteries of life instead.

OK Houston nails that sweet spot where indie rock meets indie pop with a splash of something you can only describe as “summer breeze in a bottle.” The production’s clean but not slick, letting the quirky heart of the song shine through every pluck and beat.

Show Yourself

I used to consider myself an introvert, all through middle school and even high school. It’s funny to think, as someone who loves to talk, that I would’ve ever worn that label so tightly. But really, I just didn’t want to be seen as an extrovert. I didn’t want people to know I loved conversation and I definitely didn’t want them to try and start one with me. I didn’t feel like I was any good at it. That part of me started to shift in college, slowly. I didn’t want to admit who I really was, but deep down, I knew I craved connection all my life. 

Then COVID hit, and just as I was beginning to lose my voice, everything went quiet again. I was on my phone all day and all night. I remember using my phone to scroll for ten plus hours a day! The lockdown years were weirdly convenient for someone like me, still hesitant, still unsure about where I belonged. I wasn’t alone in losing my mind, many people felt the same way I did. Everyone’s social muscles atrophied. We got out of practice with eye contact, small talk, even just the ease of being around people. Our own presence became safer again. And rebuilding that trust with others and with myself took longer than I expected. As I emerge from my shell, the sun is out, the days are longer, my mood is better. I am attending events left and right. 

New Bombshell entering the Villa

Now that I’m back in the game, I’ve started to notice something: people are all in different places socially. Some are fully back—talking to strangers, making plans, laughing with their whole bodies like nothing ever paused. Others are still stuck in the pandemic version of themselves—quiet, hesitant, unsure how to re-enter. You can feel it in group settings, when someone doesn’t know how to jump into a conversation or doesn’t try at all. I don’t say that to judge; I get it. I am right there with you. 

I’d say I’m somewhere in the middle now, leaning more toward the fully back side. I still have moments where I second-guess myself or feel awkward for no reason. But I don’t let it stop me the way it used to. The fear of being perceived has quieted down. I’m learning to trust that if I show up as I am, it’s enough. And slowly, it’s becoming more than enough—it’s becoming fun.

Getting here didn’t happen overnight. I had to practice. Literally—like saying “I like your outfit” out loud to people, pushing myself to ask questions instead of overthinking answers, choosing to stay a little longer in group settings when my gut wanted to dip. I started small: smiling at random folks, chatting with the cashier, complimenting a stranger’s outfit even if it felt randomly specific. These tiny moments slowly stitched my social confidence back together because I could see their smiles shine through. 

And the more I reentered, the more I noticed how uneven this whole thing still is. When I try to start conversations I see people freeze up, replying with short quaint answers, or avoid saying the wrong thing so intensely they say nothing at all. There’s this fear and I am not sure where it comes from. People are hesitant to say what’s actually on their mind, especially if it’s bold or a little messy or real. It's like everyone's walking on conversational eggshells, afraid of judgment, cancellation, or just being misunderstood. I feel like I’m pulling teeth just to get to know people. Like, I’ll ask a question and get a surface-level answer so polished it says nothing at all. I’m not trying to interrogate anyone—I just want to understand who you are. What lights you up, what makes you feel seen, what keeps you up at night. But most of the time, people hesitate. They pause. They check their wording. They keep the safest version of themselves in front.

And I get it. We’ve all been trained to filter, to self-protect, to keep things light and unproblematic. But it’s hard to connect with someone’s filters. It’s hard to build anything real when we’re all tiptoeing around what we really think, believe, or feel. I don’t want perfect answers. I want the stumbles, the weird tangents, the truth. I want conversations to leave me feeling something. To make me rethink our conversations. 

Sometimes I wonder if people even know how to go deeper anymore, or if we’ve been stuck in safety mode for so long that we’ve forgotten how. But then I remember how I used to be—afraid to say too much, worried about being too much—and I realized: we just have to relearn how to be comfortable with ourselves.That’s where it starts. Because when you’re not at war with your own thoughts, you stop filtering every sentence through fear. You stop needing every interaction to go perfectly. You allow yourself to speak with curiosity instead of control, to listen without preparing the perfect response. 

I’ve found that the more at peace I am with my own awkwardness or intensity or softness, the more open other people become around me. It’s like my self-acceptance gives them permission to drop their guard, too. I’m still learning, still stumbling, but I try to lead with honesty over polish. And every now and then, I get a laugh. And that’s a sign that it works. A real connection forms. One that lets go of performative acts and masks so we can truly be ourselves as cheesy as it sounds.

Slowly Spinning

This song feels like exactly where I’m at—still finding my footing, but a little more grounded each day. It has this laid-back, slightly dazed feeling that reminds me of San Diego, like everything’s moving but not too fast. The kind of song you play when you’re trying to ease back into the world without rushing it. It fits this post because that’s what I’m doing: coming back, getting more comfortable with myself, and letting things unfold one slow spin at a time.

Enjoy This Journey With Me

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Enjoy This Journey With Me ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

This isn’t the end—just a bookmark in the conversation. Stories don’t really close; they unfold, shift, and find new voices. If this one stirred something in you, let it breathe. Leave a thought, challenge an idea, or carry it forward in your own way. And if you ever feel like wandering through more unfinished thoughts, you know where to find me. Let’s keep the conversation alive. ~XOXO