It has oft been said that talking to oneself is the first sign of madness. But simply saying something oft, does not make it true. What about saying something oft, to oneself? Quite the conundrum. But in all seriousness, and in my professional opinion, there is nothing wrong or shameful in talking to yourself.
The modern myth that links this act to mental illness is nothing short of a smear campaign, probably spread but the unions. I will therefore stake my reputation and boldly proclaim here and now, that I am a person who talks to himself. Usually it’s a monologue, like practicing for some upcoming speech or conversation. Sometimes it’s a dialogue, where I adopt two separate voices. The first voice is usually a “straight-man” voice: deep and earnest, the voice of reason. The second being the “funny-man” voice, a little wacky and ever forthcoming with the witty repartee – his name is invariably Douglas. In most cases reciting the likes of the ‘Wink wink nudge nudge’ sketch.
On the rare occasion I have been known to do a whole crowd scene – my ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’ production was a theatrical triumph. Each individual thief had his own back-story and personalised voice that reflected his region of birth. The whole project took weeks to prepare and could only be performed with the aid of forty playback devices (the voice of Ali Baba was performed in real-time). It seems like a lot of effort to go to but if you have a long commute, I’m sure you’ll understand.
Isn’t it ironic, that those who are so very vocal while on their own, feel compelled to remain silent on the topic in the company of others. Basically what I’m saying is that you don’t have to be mad to talk to yourself. ( – But it sure helps, as Douglas would say).