Posted on June 03, 2015 by Tim Eagan
I talk to myself sometimes. Does that make me sound a little crazy?
I should mention that I’m not talking about under-my-breath muttering here, but a full-throated (though one-sided) conversation. My friend never responds, but he doesn’t need to. I always know exactly what he’s thinking.
I do try to make sure that no one else is around when I’m having these little chats. In fact, I used to think that my effort not to be overheard set me apart from the truly deranged. They seem to mutter and rant without caring if anyone notices. The fact that I was afraid that people might think I was crazy was proof that I was not.
This excuse has always seemed a bit thin, I’ll admit, so what about this one: children talk to themselves all the time. It’s a perfectly normal and healthy form of play. They are producing and directing their own little plays, and they cast themselves in all the roles. Just like me. There’s nothing crazy about that, is there? The fact that I have been trying to hide my conversations is not shame, really, so much as grown-up politeness. I simply didn’t want to spook others with my theatrics.
Unfortunately, some recent technological advances have now undermined this excuse. The Bluetooth headset has revealed that talking to yourself (or at least giving that impression) is not impolite at all. At least not anymore. People walk around all the time these days having animated conversations with invisible partners. It’s become an acceptable behavior. This new development in manners might actually allow me to talk freely to no one in particular without alarming others.
Then came my epiphany. I was in the Piazza Bra in Verona a while back and witnessed an event that rendered all of my lame rationalizations moot. I was stationed at the edge of the square, engaged in some recreational people-watching, when I noticed a man talking excitedly into his cell phone. He was pacing back and forth — forty yards in one direction, forty in the other — taking loudly and nonstop. I mean literally nonstop; there was no moment at which his partner could have wedged a word in. Furthermore, this tirade went on for a good fifteen minutes. There was no one, I was sure, on the other end of the line. I could only conclude that the man was one of those poor souls we think of as raving lunatics. But he was acting in a completely appropriate way…because he had a cell phone.
That was my sunburst of insight. The line between normal and nuts is not only unclear —it may have never have existed at all. Even if it had, that line has now been erased by technology.
We’re all crazy now, so who cares what people think?
I should mention that I’m not talking about under-my-breath muttering here, but a full-throated (though one-sided) conversation. My friend never responds, but he doesn’t need to. I always know exactly what he’s thinking.
I do try to make sure that no one else is around when I’m having these little chats. In fact, I used to think that my effort not to be overheard set me apart from the truly deranged. They seem to mutter and rant without caring if anyone notices. The fact that I was afraid that people might think I was crazy was proof that I was not.
This excuse has always seemed a bit thin, I’ll admit, so what about this one: children talk to themselves all the time. It’s a perfectly normal and healthy form of play. They are producing and directing their own little plays, and they cast themselves in all the roles. Just like me. There’s nothing crazy about that, is there? The fact that I have been trying to hide my conversations is not shame, really, so much as grown-up politeness. I simply didn’t want to spook others with my theatrics.
Unfortunately, some recent technological advances have now undermined this excuse. The Bluetooth headset has revealed that talking to yourself (or at least giving that impression) is not impolite at all. At least not anymore. People walk around all the time these days having animated conversations with invisible partners. It’s become an acceptable behavior. This new development in manners might actually allow me to talk freely to no one in particular without alarming others.
Then came my epiphany. I was in the Piazza Bra in Verona a while back and witnessed an event that rendered all of my lame rationalizations moot. I was stationed at the edge of the square, engaged in some recreational people-watching, when I noticed a man talking excitedly into his cell phone. He was pacing back and forth — forty yards in one direction, forty in the other — taking loudly and nonstop. I mean literally nonstop; there was no moment at which his partner could have wedged a word in. Furthermore, this tirade went on for a good fifteen minutes. There was no one, I was sure, on the other end of the line. I could only conclude that the man was one of those poor souls we think of as raving lunatics. But he was acting in a completely appropriate way…because he had a cell phone.
That was my sunburst of insight. The line between normal and nuts is not only unclear —it may have never have existed at all. Even if it had, that line has now been erased by technology.
We’re all crazy now, so who cares what people think?