The Voices in My Head

So, I think its safe to say that thoughts are made up of various theories and ideas. Not all of them are original and not all of them are even ours. A professor once told me: We're all speaking someone else's theory, the trick is to figure out whose.

I think I've gone one step further. I think I've started labeling the different, swirling theories and fears in my head. This may or may not make crazy.

I want a cookie! - that's probably my hunger talking... unless its my inner child. You're never going to be a writer, or an 'A' student, or a good person; and people SUCK!  Is my inner cynic... he sounds a little like Darth Vader and I think he's friends with Doubt (such a bastard!).

Granted, these voices don't all shout out at once, and they certainly don't tell me to burn things (thank goodness). That would make me schizophrenic or a sufferer of Multiple Personality Disorder... which I am not.

However, I did have a... let's call it an incident. I think it was my inner grownup warring with my inner child. And I don't mean the sweet, happy inner child. I mean the upset, sacred of the world, let's hide until it all goes away child... you know? The one that most of us never really grow out of.

It went a little something like this.

Inner grown-up (who sounds oddly like Sam the American Eagle from the Muppets): Huzzah, I have finished a solid portion of my big essay due next week. Time to walk into the other room and grab the necessary primary source to continue this essay.

[I stood up and walked towards me stack of books... and then I walked right by them, into my bedroom, got under the covers and didn't move]

Inner grown-up: Jenny? What are you doing? You have a paper to finish.

Me (or possibly that inner child I was talking about): No.

Inner grown-up: Jenny, big girls don't hide from their homework. You are graduate student now. Graduate students don't hide under the covers.

Me: shhhhh! The laptop might hear you.


And that's the gist of it. I, a rational, functioning wannabe adult, hid like a small child from my homework. I hid, like it was going to eat me, or make scary faces at me... or something.

This is just further proof that our societal opinions about adulthood, grownups and the joys of independence may, in reality be a big pile of crap. We don't grow up, we just wear bigger shoes and more expensive coats.

And if we're lucky, no one will notice.