I talk to myself a lot. For the longest time, I didn’t even realize I was doing it. My friends pointed it out to me, and now that I’m self-aware, I’m totally disturbed. I talk to myself when I’m walking down the street, when I’m working at my desk, and even when I’m shopping. Hell, I host a one-man talk show on the toilet.
I suppose it has its benefits. Thinking out loud makes me materialize what’s going on in my mind. It helps me focus and make sense of the world. Sure, it also makes me look bat-shit insane, but since I probably am, it’s a fair trade-off.
But why is it assumed that if you talk to yourself, you must be crazy? If I’m yammering on and on, everyone thinks I’m a mental patient. They compare me to Gollum in Lord of the Rings, doting over my precious.
It’s not fair. Why can’t I be my own best friend? Fortunately, I recently came up with a scheme to make my “me party” look less bizarre. The idea occurred to me during a binge-watching of Looney Tunes. In one episode, Bugs Bunny was having a conversation with a plant to make it grow faster.
It made me think of all the other cartoons, sitcoms, and even commercials that have referenced this silly idea. Does talking to a plant actually make it grow faster? Who knows. All I know is that it’s apparently more culturally and socially acceptable to talk to a plant than it is to talk to yourself.
So now, whenever I leave my house, I shall carry a potted plant. It’ll be an Aloe vera, and I’ll name it Sapniqua. Whenever people hear me talking, they’ll assume it’s with Sapniqua, and they’ll know I’m not crazy. Or, well, they’ll know I’m less crazy.
Sapniqua will benefit from the arrangement as well. She’ll grow faster and stronger. Yeah, you heard me. Apparently there’s some truth to this whole accelerated growth theory. Many scientists back the claim, and even MythBusters deemed it plausible.
When you think about it, the basic premise makes sense. Plants need carbon dioxide to grow, and when you talk to them, you breath on them; fulfilling the requirement.
Of course, I’m sure the science is not quite that simple. Sapniqua’s growth will also depend on other characteristics and factors. I’ll have to be extremely careful with her. It’ll be like I’m dating her. I’ll have to ask her how her day went, make sure she’s safe, and give her plenty of attention. I’ll also have to quit talking to the fern next door.
You might think this all sounds strange, but need I remind you that I’m not the first person to be awkwardly passionate with a plant. Hippies have been hugging trees since the sixties.
I sure hope Sapniqua loves me back. It’d be awful if she hated me. I mean, sure plants benefit from it, but I wonder if they really want us talking to them? Maybe they want to be left alone. Like, if a tree falls in the woods, and there’s no one around to hear it, does it still want someone to talk to?
If we get in a fight, is it taboo to buy flowers for my flowers?
As you can see, dating a plant is new territory for me. When it comes to being a plant lover, I’m stumped. It’s a deeply-rooted issue. Okay, fine, I’ll stop with the puns before this grows out of proportion, and I bark up the wrong tree.
Wish me luck. I’d knock on wood, but it might be considered an act of domestic violence.