Talking to Myself
Mon., January 7, 01:09 PM
I must have been talking to myself for some time before I knew about it. But I was in a high school study hall, working on my algebra, when a classmate remarked, “Do you have money in the bank?” And I automatically answered that I did, before it occurred to me to wonder why he asked. Doesn’t everyone do math out loud?
When I worked in the library, one of my friends used to sidle up to me and whisper “mutter, mutter.” I was one of the most accurate file clerks they employed, and everyone knows (I thought) that you can file better if you articulate what you’re filing. It must have been around that time that I formulated my pat answer: “it’s my way of making sure that I have an intelligent listener.”
I continue to do so. Sometimes I get caught, like the time I was maneuvering down a crowded Park Avenue, behind a very slow woman. “C’mon, lady, sh-t or get off the pot,” I muttered. And she turned around; her hearing was a lot better than her walking!
I tell myself things, I work out problems, I rehearse upcoming conversations. Occasionally my son would ask, “who are you talking to?” I don’t remember my daughters noticing. But, obviously, it’s a way of life for me.
One thing I try to do, however, is to avoid talking to myself when it would be rude. And whenever I saw people walking down the street loudly talking to the air, I was careful to avoid them. Who knew who they thought was there? Lately, however, I have been fooled several times. I don’t always notice the apparatus clipped to an ear. How was I supposed to know they were on the phone?
If they’re strangers, of course I can’t tell them the impression they make. On the other hand, I have been known to hang up my cell phone if it rings at an inconvenient time. It’s not polite to take a call while you’re doing business with someone else, unless it’s truly an emergency. “They really take over our lives,” remarked a woman who saw me do that. Oh, no. As I replied, “only if we let them.”
