I read that intelligent people
talk to themselves. It’s true. I know because I’m intelligent, and I talk to
myself. A lot. I also know because I read it on the Internet, so it must be
true.
One of my granddaughters asked
me, “YaYa? Why you talk you’self all the time?”
And to figure out if I’m worth
listening to at all.
Talking to yourself is good for
developing arguments, working through puzzles, reviewing conversations, and
testing out syntax and vocabulary. It can also make you look as crazy as a
loon.
But brainstorming with your own
brain is efficient; your less likely to have to endure the eyeroll of disdain
from your own eyes, or the shoulder shrug of indifference from your own
shoulders.
It’s less group. More work.
And there’s no one to tell you
that you can’t turn that project/idea/experiment
upside down and inside out to see if it glitters better in the moonlight than
the sunshine.
Talking to yourself, I’m for
it.
However . . .
As a dedicated self-talker I’ve
run into a bit of a snag. I’m at the point where I’ve talked to myself so long,
that sometimes I say things out loud that I only think I’ve thought, and then I
repeat myself and people say, “Hey, you just said that.” And I say, “No, I just
thought that in my thinker, better known as my brain.” And they say, “You’re
nuts.”
So, that’s what I think about
that.
Excuse me, I have to go talk
this over—with myself.
Linda (Chatty Cathy) Zern
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