I Think , Therefore I Should Not Run With Scissors.

OH MY GOD, I am SOOOOOOOO excited.
I have just discovered I have a skill I didn't know I had.
I think you may have it too.
Maybe everyone does, but it's only now I am aware of it.
I finish sentences in my head while I keep talking.
I know you are wondering what the fuck I am on about, but try this.
Imagine you are talking to the biggest prick on the planet....you know who he is.....and imagine he is standing right in front of you.
Now the thing is, even though this you fantasise about this person being hit by a bus, for whatever reason, be it that he's a colleague, your boss or an ex you made children with, you can't actually kill him or ignore him, and sometimes you have to play nice nice and not say the things that are sitting right there on your frontal lobe.
So you do this, you say half the sentence with your mouth, and the BIG EDIT button kicks in, and you finish the sentence in your head, but you can still talk nicely and even listen.
So out loud you say " Actually I sent you those papers yesterday"....in your head...." you mother fucking moron"....whilst you are saying..."I'm sure they will arrive next week"
" Yes , I think I can see your point"...in your head..."because I am excellent at spotting stupidity"......whilst you are saying..." and I am trying to find a way we can both be satified"
This self editting appears to have become a hardwired skill.
This is a great relief.
For years working on radio I used to set myself into safety mode around an open microphone.
My natural syntax is littered with profanity, and I also stand up and speak in front of others most days.
These two things never run concurrently.
The only time I drop a rude word whilst being paid, is if I am BEING PAID to swear.
Even then, on a mic, I find this a little stressful.
I have to override my safety switch.
But that's for bad words.
Bad THOUGHTS are a whole new ball game.
Tonight I was in a pub, working on a mic at a brand new gig when some Strapping Great Middle Aged South African Male decided that he would 'check up' on his ipenis to see if what I had just said was true.
And he decided to tell the bar that this is what he was doing.
So I said " Good idea, check my facts, just in case"...close mouth and inside my head..." You total twat, ps, I think it's time you stopped drinking"......open mouth and outside my head SIMULTANEOUSLY...."I will wait while you find the answer".
So check he did ,and I was right, and he was wrong, but no harm was done.
To me especially.
He was way big.
I know a woman who is so barking mad that the only things that can love her are Labradors and somehow her husband (whom I suspect of being one of those man-babies in the bedroom).
Mixed breed dogs and animals with survival skills keep a wide birth.
Labradors love unconditionally because they have emotional problems.
But I digress.
My point is, that this woman has the body shape of a smurf ( the boy ones) and the personality of a 'past-it's-bed-time-and-wired-on red-cordial' 4 year old.
Plus she is totally insane, and yet every time I see her or (God help me) speak with her my mind sentences get longer and longer.
" How are things with you ? You look well "...internal dialogue......"but why, oh why do you wear things that make you look like an advertisement for pear shaped bottoms? No one is buying the 'colourful smock makes me look creative' bullshit. You look like the joke version of a 70's art teacher and when will you just shut the fuck up about your poor ( and probably straying) husband whom you playfully -shudder- call 'boy'-shudder-? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
See, now I do this, but I don't go silent through this time. I finish the sentence in my head, but I can keep talking about her dogs and her deep deep belief in the Mayan Calender.
That's a skill right?
Or schizophrenia.
Whatever.
I am just pleased to have discovered I have learned tact.
It's taken me the better part of 42 years.
If I've had to contract a mental illness in order to do it, I'm a peace with the concept.
Perhaps the Scientolotards are right, maybe mental illness is a made up thing and the glazed looks and jabbering found in psych units is actually the outward manifestation of mental and verbal multitasking.
I don't know, and frankly I don't need to.
Now that I know my brain will protect me from actually saying things like " Wow, you look like shit" whilst actually thinking it, I shall spend my days making hapless small talk with all the fairies and fruit loops in my domain, safe in the knowledge that I, at least, can think in 'mute' whilst shooting from the lip.