I thought I'd give you a glimpse into the ridiculous, ubiquitous dialog that streams through my head at all times, during all occasions. The dialog that doesn't really ever stop unless the music is turned up very loud, the medicine is very strong, or I'm upside down on a bouldering problem.
This particular discourse occurred recently, because of the guilt I felt after eating cake. The voice on the other side of my manic-panic-conversations varies greatly; on this occasion, it was the father-figure-slash-catholic priest- guy-on-the-other-side-of-the-confession-booth who just smacks of judgment and likes to pop out of the old psyche after I spend money, eat, become particularly lazy or otherwise unwisely indulge.
For the record, I've never been a Catholic.
*******Melina: Bless me father, for I have spent.
Father/Priest Figure in my Head: Tell me, my child, how long has it been since your last confection?
M: Since last night, father. I had a cupcake.
F: Tell me about the cupcake.
M: It was called an Elvis something. A velvet Elvis, maybe. Banana bread with some peanut butter chocolaty frosting, well, that's what they said but I didn't taste any chocolate. It had a banana chip on top.
F: A banana chip?
M: I did not eateth of the banana chip, father. I disposed of it.
F: I'm glad to hear that. Certainly you remember what happened to the last time you consumed of the banana chip.
M: I remember, father. My whole family remembers. I'll never get that Christmas back. Father, the cupcake put me back $7.25
F: That seems steep.
M: Yes, well, I also drank a hot chocolate.
F: A hot chocolate?
F: Don't you think that's overkill?
M: Looking back, yes, but at the time it felt like a nice pairing.
F: Alright. We can work through this. Is there anything else you need to tell me?
M: Yes. That's not all of it. Last Friday, I had a slice of cake.
F: Tell me about the slice of cake.
M: It was a big fancy four layer dealy. Mocha, praline maybe. I don't know. There was a lot of chocolate and a lot of textures. I couldn't eat all of it. I gave most of it away.
F: Go on.
M: The cake set me back $66.00
M: I know.
F: How did you let that happen?
M: I parked on capitol hill, near Broadway. It's impossible to park around there. I met some girls at that super dark place that's got a chocolate martini bar. We ordered cake. Well, one girl wouldn't touch the cake, but I'm not that girl, you know, the girl who goes to the dessert place and drinks nothing but water. So I had some cake. And a glass of white wine. It was kind of expensive, but not terrible.
F: Go on.
M: But then, I got a parking ticket for being 2 feet two close to a stop sign at ten o'clock at night. $42.00. All because I was up on capitol hill because of that stupid piece of cake. Now the evening's cost about $56.00.
F: And does this get worse?
M: Well, so, I'm driving home and thinking, this is terrible. I really could have used that money for something else. And I don't even like sugar that much any more. I just had the cake because in the moment it seemed like the right thing to do. What a waste! So I'm driving and I've got the ticket next to me, and it's been raining so the ticket is in like, five separate pieces, and I'm feeling so bad about everything that I have to stop at a bar in Ravenna and have a beer. To console myself. But I can't just settle for a 2 dollar PBR, I have to have a microbrew. Because this is the type of person I've become.
So I'm sitting there, alone, at the bar, drinking away my sorrows in a lovely amber something or other, and I'm pissed off at myself, and at the the whole city because I really can't afford to give away $42.00 right now, and all of a sudden, it just dawns on me, that this could be the future. Me sitting at a bar somewhere on a Friday night, with a tv broadcasting some sports thing, and all my friends are either not there anymore, or they're all sleeping to get up bright and early for some skiing adventure that I'm not going on. Because probably I'm working on the weekend and I've got no saving because it's all gone to cake or pie or something. And while I'm thinking about this, it's pretty grim, some guy comes over and asks my name and tells me that his grandmother had the same name, whadaya know. And it seems really funny to me, because nobody has my name, and this guy is lying but for what purpose? To talk to me? Why would anyone want to talk to me right now?
F: How much did the microbrew set you back?
M: Probably about 10 dollars after I left a tip, I mean it brought the evening up to $66.00 and I didn't even want any of it. And on to of that, I'm stuck with all those calories, and I need to run around the lake to get rid of them, but I don't have running shoes, I lost them somehow. The shoes I wanted to buy cost about $66.00, so you can see why that just sucks, in light of everything.
F: I'm afraid to ask, My child, did you ever pay your parking ticket?
M: But that's the upshot of all of this. I payed it right away. Signed the check, but it in the envelope, sent it right along. It was like a litmus test, you know, because I used to get parking tickets all the time and not pay them, and then the collectors would call? So I did a good job, I am getting better.
F: Very good.
M: And then I was so proud of myself I bought that cupcake as a congratulations. That peanut butter elvis thing. I feel like, I might be in a bad cycle right now.