I
find I’m talking to myself more now than ever.
I’m
not sure what to make of that.
It’s
not quite Walter Mitty stuff mind you. I’m not pitching for the
Orioles or quarterbacking the Buccaneers. I haven’t been strutting
across a stage… in some strange reenactment of a scene from Risky
Business… belting out songs from my latest CD.
I
have been quoting excerpts from my soon-to-be-(oh-don’t-I-wish)
best seller. Maybe that deserves a bit of explanation.
I
find I always do my best writing, unfortunately for both you and
me, when I am far away from pen, paper or computer. It generally
takes place when I am walking with my dogs, when I’m in the shower,
or when I’m driving my car. Things like that. So when I participated
recently in National Novel Writing Month, I spent lots of time
talking out loud, to myself, about sections that I wanted to write.
Very rarely did the words on paper reach the level of quality
I believe I achieved when cruising along on the highway. I should
also point out that my dogs didn’t offer as much critical support
as I had hoped for.
But
for some reason, even having spent so much time writing a draft
of a novel during the month of November, I find myself wondering
if I am talking to myself too much.
When
I was younger… much, much younger… I used to love the Creature
Double-Feature on television. One of my favorite movies was Voyage
into Space. It was a tale about Giant Robot and the child
that controlled him. Without going into too much detail, let’s
just say that I spent plenty of time staring out the elementary
school window while whispering into my watch.
There
are people out there that will understand what I mean… I know…
I checked out Giant Robot, Voyage into Space, and Johnny Sokko
on the internet. Plenty of us were staring out windows, our wrists
raised to our lips, and our eyes focused on the horizon hoping
for a flying robot to streak into view.
But
things are different today. People tell you strange things when
they catch you talking to yourself. “As long as you aren’t answering
yourself,” is one great response. Or how about “are the voices
in there friendly?” I don’t get much comfort from that one.
I
suppose I shouldn’t be too concerned. Just as long as I don’t
wind up seeing this article in the hands of my wife’s lawyer I’ll
be fine. And, in case for some reason my wife does find need for
a lawyer, how about if we say that the voices I hear in my head…
the conversations I have with myself… normally include the following:
“I
should probably mow the lawn today.”
“There
are four different kinds of orange juice for each brand. I don’t
know what brand she drinks, forget about remembering pulp, no
pulp, or calcium added!”
“Oh
shoot (only I don’t say shoot), it’s trash night.”
Usually
though you’ll find me combining them all together… I grab my car
keys because I need to go to the store. Walking out to the car
I see the trash can and remember that the pick-up is tomorrow.
So, I bring the bags to the curb before getting in the car. The
conversation along this entire walk goes something like: “Milk,
juice and a vegetable for dinner. Milk, juice and a vegetable
for dinner. Milk, juice and… oh shoot, trash day. Guess I’ll bring
this stuff out now. Oh, looks like the grass needs to be mowed.
Has it been over a week already? I don’t think it’s supposed to
rain tomorrow. Guess I’ll get it then. Ok, milk, bread and… umm…
juice. Juice. Does she like it with or without pulp? I guess I
could get both. Wait, do I like it with or without pulp? If I
don’t like it I’m not drinking it just because she didn’t like
it but I bought it.”
And
the conversation goes happily along that path until I return home,
walk in the house, unpack the groceries and get asked…
“Did
you forget the vegetables?”
Yes.
I did.
I
wonder how she puts up with me? Probably because I usually add
ice cream to the list of things I did get.
In
any event I don’t think I’m all that close to walking down the
street, no one within twenty feet of me, fists clinched, teeth
locked in a grimace, and under my breath forcefully arguing “next
time get your own orange juice.”
I
guess I’m not tremendously concerned.
For
now.