Friday, October 23, 2009

Embarrassed Is the Name of My Land - Join Me There

So, I talk to myself. I always have. It's just a habit I didn't ever grow out of. I used to worry that I was crazy, then I realized that of course, I was crazy and that was okay.

I talk to myself whenever I am alone, almost. In the basement doing laundry, in the shower, in the car, whatever. I talk to fill the silence. Sometimes I have hypothetical conversations. This is dangerous, because often I think I've told you something or we have talked about something and really I've just talked to myself about it.

Sometimes I interview myself. You know about The Great American Novel. Or about successfully bring Buffy the Vampire Slayer back to the big screen and the addition of Jessalynn (the pudgy, funny psychic that totally saves Xander from a future of demon women).

Sometimes I vent about things I'm mad about. Politics, religion, work stuff. The stuff it's hard to talk to real people about without offending someone.

I used to stop talking to myself in the car whenever I got close to another car. Because I didn't want to look crazy. You know, driving around in the car talking to myself, like some cat lady. Once in high school, I was in a car with a friend's dad and he spent the whole car trip making fun of a woman who was talking to herself in her car. I realized that people pay attention to that stuff.

Then, they invented cell phones and then, oh then, glorious then, they invented hands free sets. Now, I just talk away, assuming that everyone will think that I am on my cell phone with my hands free or my speakerphone or that nifty thing that makes your phone run through your radio.

Sometimes, I kinda forget that it's not entirely socially acceptable to talk to myself. After all, I'm a great listener and I always get my jokes. So, those times, I will be walking somewhere, say the restroom in my office building, muttering to myself about something and will open the door and see a gaggle of horrified women staring at me like I might pull out a gun and start picking them off.

I want to explain that even though I'm crazy, I'm a semi-pacifist and so I would never pick them off one by one, although I may someday be talking about it to myself.

9 comments:

Caribbean Jewelz said...

I talk to myself too. So I guess I'm crazy too,lol.

OhSweetSara said...

I totally do the pretend-to-talk-on-the-cell-phone-in-the-car-so-I-can-talk-to-myself-and-no-one-knows-but-me thing. I go so far as to put on my blue tooth, make sure that it is on so that the people next to me can see the blue blinking light and therefore know that I must be conversing with some one on the phone and not just having a heated conversation with myself about what I should have said to the rude lady who tried to knock me over so she should be first in the check out line, or what I'm going to say to my boyfriend when he finally calls me back and his only excuse for not calling is that his phone fell behind the bed and died and he couldn't find it.

It's totally not crazy; it's a sign of a creative mind.

Jessi said...

Hm...Creative Mind. I like it!!

Mrs. Allroro said...

I never talk to myself.

Mrs. Allroro said...

Yes you do.

katie said...

Crap. I talk to myself. I have two cats. I'm seriously single (as in: unless he comes galloping in on a steed of equality, humour, intelligence, acceptance and honesty, it's NEVER going to happen, and that's OK - sort of), and 35 (on Sunday). I also work at a college library. Does this make me a crazy cat lady? I worry. WTF is a crazy cat lady? Do you have to be 80, unmedicated, and unmarried with so many cats you can't count them? I'm totally blabbing, but I see the phrase all of the time, and can't help but think... am I a crazy cat lady? If I am, do I care? I've asked the cats, but they don't know, either! Also, I rock out in my car with full on singing, even though I've been caught and teased. So... I guess maybe I am crazy, and I don't care. Thanks. That was healing. :)

Jessi said...

I can't tell you if you are a crazy cat lady, but why wouldn't you want to be one? I can't wait until I'm a widow and I can be the crazy widow down the street. I'll do all kinds of creepy things, like drag heavy duffel bags into the house in the dark. And peer out the window every time a car drives by.

Jessi said...

Also, I don't really want to be a widow, but since statistics are in favor of it, I might as well look at the bright side.

Caroline said...

My sister and I used to make fun of my dad for walking around the house mumbling to himself.

Now I do it, only I speak clearly (which I think totally makes me less crazy). And, in third person like, "We should get in the shower, now," or, "God, Caroline, that was stupid." I talk to myself at work all the time and it always freaks people out. Then they get used to it and start to ignore me when I talk to them b/c they think I'm just being Crazy Carolini again.

Oh, and I do mock interviews for my E! true hollywood story, and have since I was 13, as well as my oscar acceptance speech.