Nobody does it like I do it

Here's how I wanted to start this entry: "I talk to myself more than anybody I know."

This statement is true - in a way. I really do talk to myself A LOT. In fact, I would say I am keeping a conversation running in my head at least 87% of the time that I am awake. [PS: I almost put "alive" there instead of "awake". DO NOT PANIC. It was just a mistype; I am NOT a vampire. I am always alive...at least 87% of the time.]

It's not all color commentary, either. If you looked into my mind, rarely would you see: "And here comes the orange juice into the glass! Glug glug glug! That will be delicious!" Nor is it some sort of long-running inspirational speech to myself. I do not kid myself into thinking that I am my own personal Coach Taylor.



OMG EVERYONE WATCH THIS SHOW RIGHT NOW!

Ahem...



Rather, nearly every second of my waking hours is taken up by a morning talk show-style self-interview, wherein I tell myself personal anecdotes and give myself real zinger questions, like, "What is your favorite kind of dog?"

I spent my entire shower yesterday morning spinning silent yarns about The Dogs of my Childhood and debating with myself the merits of each breed. Really.

Does this mean that I talk to myself more than anyone I know, though? The more I think about it, the more I say to myself (silently, in the midst of much longer conversations), "You can never really know!"

I like to tell myself that no one notices me indulging in my favorite, self-involved pastime. Sure, they do see me make my crazy talking face at myself - head cocked to one side, contemplating how best to answer the interview question I've lobbed at my one and only favorite guest - but they can't possibly really know, can they? They probably think I have an unfortunate facial tic, which is, somehow, less embarrassing than having them think that I am constantly enacting my Oprah/celebrity (okay, let's get real - Regis/reality show "star") fantasies with myself.

Isn't it?

When I sat down to write this entry, I was all ready to make fun of myself for being an obvious, over-the-top, weirdo. Then, I realized: if I'm always talking to myself and being super-sneaky about it (because making exaggerated "hmmm I'm thinking about that tough question, Oprah!" faces at yourself is very normal and under-the-radar-y), who's to say that other people are not doing the same thing? People who I thought just had ridiculous faces really, in real life, have perfectly normal faces that I cannot see because I am looking at them in their ultimate fantasy talk show star life...which just happens to be secretly, silently, playing out on the sidewalk outside of my apartment.

Is everyone I see having inner debates over which type of fruit pie is best for weddings? Or what their proudest life moment was? And if they are, what does that say about the current human condition? Has the quest for fame - however fleeting or imagined - overtaken all of us? Do we really feel so removed from our fellow man in this technology-driven, isolated age that our best conversations happen in our own heads? Or did Socrates do this sort of thing, too? [No, truly, Oprahtes, I do want to thank my father for all that he did for me...]

I would like to think that I am not alone in this.