I know this won’t surprise any of you, but I have a voice in my head. It can be a very loud voice at times, screaming incessantly at me if I refuse to listen to it. In rare moments, it can be a very calming, soothing voice, keeping me from going postal, such as this very moment. You see, I’m being bombarded from the other room by the sounds of pre-pubescent gamers online, a shrill, horrific din of immaturity that just goes on and on and on.
Taking little pre-pubescent screaming boys out of the equation, I have discovered in recent months that not only does that voice in my head have a name, but roughly half of the people in our world also have this voice.
Well, not this voice, per se. It’s unique to me. Instead, half the people have their own voice in their head, one that has a running commentary day in and day out. It’s kind of like having a color commentator in your noggin. Think sports and it’s the guy on the mike who always has something sage or smarmy to say, making the broadcast more interesting.
If you’re not sure whether you have an internal monologue, it’s easy to find out. You’re already taking the test right now. Do you hear your voice reading right along right now, but inside your head?
If you do, welcome to having an internal monologue. While I have always had this voice, I didn’t know that half the world didn’t. But now I understand why some clients would edit the crap out of my writing while others left it alone. As I think about it, the ones who left it alone had the voice reading to them; they had their own internal monologue.
You see, I have always written very conversationally. Long before the Internet was invented (thanks Al Gore), I was very informal in my writing style, as if I were simply speaking to you. It’s really the reason I still have a job. The Internet came along and suddenly writing in a conversational style was the “be all-do all” of the Internet. Everyone wanted a writing style I was born with, all because I have that silly voice upstairs.
Egad, you say! He’s mad! Well, I suppose the argument could be made for that whether I had internal monologue or not. But it’s not madness. I’m not alone. Half of you are like me in this respect. If you don’t believe me, look it up! (sorry, my internal monologue is a little miffed that you don’t believe him, uh, me).
As a writer, the worst part of having this voice in my head is that sometimes it’s not talking to me. I don’t really know why it’s not. It’s not like we can have a fight or anything. It just goes silent sometimes, occasionally for days at a time. This drives me crazy, since I end up with the proverbial writer’s block. No writing means no money. You’d think my internal monologue would understand this by now. Talk about being thick headed.
However, it’s much worse when it does its own thing. Even though I have work to do, it’s filling my head with fantasy, worry, thoughts of hunger, bouts of delusion, and right now, thoughts about Hurricane Irene as it passes by my window.
I really wish it would just mind its own business and get back to dictating. I have work to do, especially if I end up losing power here on the island, which happens even when there is no storm.
When people ask me what goes on in my head, I tell them this way. I can picture a ball rolling around inside, like a pinball machine. The plunger is pulled and off starts my brain, whirring and lighting up at the oddest hours. The ball then hits some bumpers, thoughts come to mind, then one of the middle bumpers is hit, more bonus points, and then the flippers keep knocking the ball back up for more mental masturbation. Occasionally I score big, racking up lots of points that manifest themselves as great copy or ideas. Other times, its four balls and out.
Like a pinball machine, the ball can’t keep going forever. Game over. I can’t just put another quarter in the slot – and no, don’t even go there! Eventually, a new game starts, off we go again, sometimes for days or even weeks at a time.
By now, you’re wondering if it ever Tilts. It has on many occasions. It’s when I make a famous dumbass decision because that voice in my head is telling me lies.
“Go ahead and touch the fence that’s buzzing loudly. It won’t hurt ya!”
“Move your hammer swing just a touch to the right. Don’t worry, your thumb’s out of the way.
“Go ahead and have another drink, it won’ kill ya. You’ll feel just fine in the morning. Trust me!”
“Go flirt with the reporter girl over there. The worst thing you could do is ruin your entire life… but at least you’ll be in Florida.”
As I said, my internal monologue doesn’t always have the best advice when left to its own devices. While it has the potential to turn out amazing ideas, beautiful prose and cool stuff that dumfounds others as to how they came about, it has this dark side that keeps getting me in trouble.
And each time I swear I won’t listen to it ever again, it wants to make up with me.
What? You want me to sign your name to this and not mine, voice in my head? I won’t do it! What do you mean that I’m just taking dictation and not really a writer? Who do you thing you are… me?
Out on the Treasure Coast, the real genius behind this life he thinks is his,
– Trebor Rezz