“Why? Why would you do that? The ledge is right there. I pressed the button; you should have caught it. What’s wrong with you?”
Of course, the videogame character on the screen isn’t going to respond. If he did, an old priest and a young priest would be called post-haste.
He just stands there scratching his butt and checking his weapon to make sure it’s loaded, animations some programmer put in to make it look like he’s alive.
I can try to convince myself that I’m talking to the character, and in some way I am, perhaps. But, really, I’m talking to myself, working out my frustration at dying yet again, at the same spot.
Talking to yourself. I can’t be the only nut out there who does it.
This habit takes several forms, but they all involve one thing: you’re either completely alone or away from other people. Some examples:
- You can’t get something to work (“Come on; what’s wrong with this stupid thing?!”)
- You’re excited about something (“Yes . . . yes! I got it!”)
- You’re testing out dialogue or something else you’ve written (“’There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you get away, partner’ Wait, I’m not writing a Western . . .”)
- You think of a snappy comeback to something someone told you earlier (“ ‘At least I don’t smell like an orangutan!’ That’s what I’d have said.)
- You’re pacing and trying to work out a problem (“But if I tell her, she’s going to hate me . . . Argh!”)
You get the picture. I dunno about you, but I feel good whenever I’ve given a voice to something that’s on my mind; it gives the problem or happy thought more weight when it goes from thought to sound waves.
I’m not crazy am I?
No, of course not, Michael.
I thought so. I mean, talking to yourself’s alright; it’s answering yourself that’s a problem, right?
Wrong; not answering yourself is rude. Don’t be a jerk.
You’re right again. Man, you’re pretty insightful.