Life Every couple of weeks, or at least it feels that way, someone has the revelation on social media that not everyone in the world has an internal monologue which speaks in whole sentences. Here's a page on The Poke from last July which pretty much covers all the basis, from the shock and awe to the "well how other people think" to deep dives into the biological mechanics.
My reaction was the opposite. I've always thought internal monologues, in fiction, in books, comics and on screen, were a narrative affectation, a way of communicating information without having to produce tortured expositions scenes between characters who're already aware of the what's being talked about. Those thoughts which Spider-man could never communicate, even to Mary Jane.
But no, it turns out there are people in the world who's brains are constantly chattering, having a conversation with themselves about everything which is happening to them during the day. It's how they think things through, from what to have for breakfast in the morning, to solving maths problems to considering what's happening in a film while they're watching it. Often it manifests itself in the form of a conversation, especially if there's a choice to be made.
Which I honestly don't understand and can't imagine because I'm in the other crowd, the ones who don't have these internal conversations, don't have a voice in their head reading a book to them and even as I type these words, the first time I know what's going to be said is as I tap the keys. Since we seem to be in the minority, the key question we're asked it always, how do you think about, well, stuff.
To which I can only answer, we just do. After writing that mini-sentence, I paused before writing something else and then the right word just occurred to me and I began typing again. I can't explain how. It's a bit like having a talking to someone, knowing that the words are there and what I want to say and then my language skills make it happen. There's no real pattern to it, and I honestly can't describe how it works. It just does.
If I'm deciding what to eat, I just look through the freezer until I see something and then get it out to defrost, and this only becomes a conversation if its going to be a meal for more than myself in which case I'll talk to others. When I'm doing crosswords or sudoku, the answers are either there or not. When I'm watching a film, even if it's a mystery, I don't think about what's happening internally.
The closest I come to experiencing the internal monologue is when I talk to myself. Then I'll sometimes consider my way through something, like how the plot mechanics of a film are constructed, but out loud, commenting to the no one else who's in the room. Most often this is an explanation, "Dear God!" or something linguistically stronger. Or at the start of a film, I say what I think the ending will be out loud.
Honestly, I don't know how I'd cope if I had to listen myself chuntering from a sedentary intellectual position all the time, like a demented back bench MP. There are occasions after work, when I'm tired of hearing the sound of my own voice and I'm happy to just sit with my mouth closed letting the world, and more important my senses, do without the noise of my generic northern vowels and consonants.
No comments:
Post a Comment