As a kid, when I talk to myself on school grounds, I run the risk of becoming that freak talking to myself, and the popular association of the act (acute psychosis, maladaptation) tends to be negative. I knew there was. Stigma kept me quiet, but as I got older, its effectiveness diminished. Also: Look around. People walk down the street, talking small white sprouts in their ears and gesturing. They pay homage to the cell phone camera. Determining which invisible audience a pedestrian is talking to has become very difficult to calculate and cumbersome to solve. The decline in self-consciousness and the strange effects of home appliances have liberated me.
Still, I tend to be alone for the most lively conversations in my apartment or office. When I reach a dead end while writing, they often get up and follow the normal loop. Pressure builds up until release is unavoidable. My internal soliloquy is no longer enough. The more difficult reality of oral language begins to come out of my mouth. I curse myself. I catch myself. My tweet reverses to the aggressiveness of plastic: You are not the worst person. You don’t have to disappear into ether. Rather, you are excellent, competent, and probably fine. Calling yourself “you” happens unknowingly. Because the voice speaks and the ears are far away. The gap widens. The first person jumps second. When my warranty cannot guarantee me, I will try Beckett’s impression and general advice: You have to continue, you continue. As I am still stuck, I gradually turn my Peptalk into a kind of psychodynamic session with myself, through which I identify the form of my obstruction. I will be practical: Divide the problem into parts, explain what’s missing, and incorporate obstacles. The distance of “you” ultimately gives perspective and authority. change. I call it progress. Real Confidence Soaring Bubbles: You can do this; after that, I can do this; after that, Let’s do this.. How could you doubt yourself? Later I find another deadlock, and the process repeats.
Others may prefer to call a friend for help. Would you like to turn to the outside? Isn’t this a little antisocial to yourself? I haven’t fully declared friendship and its success yet — maybe someday! — I find that vocalized self-analysis and the willingness to overcome intellectual and moral predicaments in a noisy loneliness complement more traditional means of conversation, especially with regard to creative thinking. I found it to be something like that. When I asked a friend if they would talk to themselves, one explained free association and play behavior in preparation for a high stakes meeting. Another friend, the photographer, speaks out loud about the aesthetic intended for work, speaks out loud, and predicts how to deal with virtual difficulties on the shooting day.
Obviously, there are two phenomena under the hood here: wellness and self-optimization. You can imagine headlines inspired by SEO: “How can talking to yourself help you work smarter and faster?” Fair enough, external self-talk is also a way to negotiate who and who you are. The fears associated with those of whom we speak publicly are the fears of the eroded self, and their assumptions, without explicit concern or awareness of the impact of their performance on those around them. The immutability and singularity are unleashed, and their loose threads are chaotically chatting with each other. But the act of talking to myself reminds me that invariance and singularity are illusions in the first place. My diversity is, in turn, a promise. I don’t have to be that I am. You don’t have to do that either. It may be different from what you expected in a minor way. Alternatively, you may be able to create difficult sentences. It can lead to paragraphs, then fresh parts, and new people. Probably not — perhaps talking to yourself does not change the world. It may not even change you radically. But the current dialogue between you and your potential self is a small piece of evidence that such a change is possible. Or maybe that’s what I want to say to myself.