You've given the various identifiable aspects of your personality general names, ones that define the essential quality such as The Grouch, The Internal Editor, The Romanticist, The Skeptic, and yes, there is a Polyanna in there, if only to offset The Grouch and the Skeptic. To give them more personalized names such as Ron or Bill or Fred would undercut their purpose, which is keep you involved in life and living as an individual.
Monday, February 22, 2016
These component parts have a pretty good life. Since you've become aware of them, you try to find a place at the table for them, letting them work out who sits where and who has to do the dishes.
You know enough to send the Internal Editor out on some chore when you're able to find the time to do your own writing or edit the work of a client. He can say anything he wants after you've finished working.
Whenever The Interior Editor teams up with the Skeptic or the Cynic, you're reminded of movies with scenes set in pubs, where the carousers team up for a time before turning on one another over some trivial argument, or their schoolyard bully tactics of taking on The Romanticist or The Idealist. You do try to get those two to stay out of dive bars, but they're well past the legal age and so they can do as they please.
The only time you have the right to tell any or all of them to shut up is if you sense there is some impending decision you need to make with all your wits about you, and yet, all your wits would include that aspect of you known as The Scammer or The Con Artist. When things get tough, you may need some input from them as well as from the more civil and social of your component parts.
A matter of concern at present is the effect the various presidential campaigns are having on your component parts. In almost all of the candidates, you recognize personalities similar to your component parts. You've managed to keep all the voices from shouting at one another or turning on The Moderator, whose job it is to keep all of us agreed on such major agendas as keeping a roof over our head, keeping us well fed, reading from significant and varfied sources, listening to music, and spending quality time with our goal of producing keepable pages with some substance.
But with so much choler and improvised information floating about, you have some reason to worry that the more volatile and blustery in your midst will want more than a few moments to explain his position, will in effect wish to lead us into some behavior that many of us will have cause to regret later on.
Earlier today, you noticed a few huddled figures lurking about within the shadows. You made coffee and some snacks, then gave them a few moments to speak their mind. The risk is always present in such circumstances that you will have one more aspect of yourself to reckon with, even if doing so opens the door for you seeing a new character or character type, suitable for a story of his or her own.
No real surprises; you learned The Impatient One had a considerable list to read. You learned that you have not always been as honest as you wish, although to your pleasant surprise, The Referee came in and said in no uncertain terms that you'd set off on a pretty good run of honesty.
Smelling the coffee, The Internal Editor stopped by, wondering if you were aware your essay on Kafka's Metamorphosis was not by any means completed, although you said it was nearly completed. Internal Editors love the last word, so yours couldn't resist reminding you that there was a direct connection between Gregor Samsa from the Kafka and Philip Roth's notorious protagonist, Alexander Portnoy, whose complaint energized and disturbed so many readers.
The Editor has made an interesting point, but you can't let him see he has slipped one past you. For a moment, all of you sip coffee in thoughtful silence. You look at those who've joined in. Some are old friends, others, by their very nature, not what you'd call friend so much as how you've come to think of them: component parts. Without any one of them, you are not you. Best to keep them all close, have plenty of ground coffee in the freezer, ready for a gathering.
Posted by Shelly Lowenkopf at 9:40 PM