Why I talk to inanimate objects

I was walking to a coffee shop the other day to finish a final year end report for my position as community service coordinator at school. And as I was walking down the sidewalk, through Jacksonville (a quaint little town in Southern Oregon, marked by classic western storefronts and small neighborhoods with precise lawns and flower beds), I glanced up and noticed a girl, perhaps 8 or 9 years old playing in her driveway. She seemed quite tall for her age, but maybe it was just her long flowing blond hair that gave the illusion as it jumped from the top of her head backwards towards the ground, never quite reaching it's destination.

As I traveled onwards, soon to pass by on the other side of the road. I noticed she had lined up an assortment of books in a semicircle in front of a very distinctly pulpit like chair to stand behind. Quickly I realized that this chair was much more like the front of an elementary classroom, and we had the makings of a very studious and professional teacher instead of the next great sermon presenter. Her lessons were very quick and to the point, and her words traveled out across the road even with her back turned away from me just in case her "students" weren't listening properly.

A quick glance over her shoulder, however, showed that a stranger was within earshot. She quickly began awkwardly pacing, boring holes in the tops of her shoes with here large blue eyes. Her mouth would not crack, not ever for a smile as she tried to avoid any signs of embarrassment on her face to the preaching she was doing to... well, a driveway.

All this to say. As I was pondering the situation I came to the conclusion that somehow, someone indicated to her that it was not good for little girls to pretend that they were surrounded by students and the individual given the role of the teacher. Somehow she found out that "pretending" was not something that she should do....


This is why I talk to my computer when I'm mad at it. This is why I say things to my bike when it fails to shift smoothly. This is why, when I am unsure of myself, I ask my traffic cone Frank, what his opinion of my outfit is... because I think that imagination can be a very important aspect of comfortability with the self, as well as a means to an exploration of what the self could be.

I'm surely not saying that everyone should go around imitating their local stuttering homeless man who talks about the weather to every random shadow he passes beneath. But perhaps... if more, say, college students, followed possible career choice research with an acting out of what that would possibly look like... maybe more people would end up being satisfied with what they chose to pursue....

Photo By: Ben Heine