Monday, May 23, 2016

I Talk to Myself

I'm a very good listener. People will tell me all kinds of things. I guess I seem trustworthy. Most of my conversations consist of people telling me their life story and me just sitting there, nodding, being encouraging. This happens to me all the time. And I'm usually too polite to tell them to shut up. 

I'm not a talker. It's not that I don't have anything to say. I just usually have too many things going on in my brain at one time. Plus, I'm just better at processing written words than spoken words. Is that weird? I don't know. 

You know what's funny, though? I talk to myself all the time. At home. Laying in bed. In the bathroom. I have to remind myself not to do it in public bathrooms, though, because I have definitely gotten some strange looks. 

The best place for talking to myself, though, is the car. I do it so often that my boys will sometimes stop their own conversations and ask, "Mommy, who are you talking to??" Um, the best listener in the world, duh. 

Sometimes I practice important conversations that I want to have. Sometimes I finish conversations that I've already had. Sometimes I tell silly jokes. Or I change the lyrics to songs on the radio and make them totally ridiculous ("This is my white thong!" is one of my favorites.)

So yes. I'm one of those weirdos who not only talks to herself, but also answers back. Whatchoo talkin' bout, Willis?? 

"A man speaking sense to himself is no madder than a man speaking nonsense not to himself." ~Tom Stoppard

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