I don’t often talk to myself. That would be crazy. If I do find myself speaking aloud while I’m the only person in my general vicinity, it’s usually because I’m having an entire conversation with my brain.
To be clear, there is a big difference between talking to oneself and having a conversation with one’s own brain.
When you talk to yourself, you don’t expect a response.
When you decide to have a conversation with your brain, that’s a different story.
Conversations with my brain go something like this:
(keep in mind, this is all being spoken audibly)
And so, the cycle continues.
But this story isn’t about my ongoing mental health issues. It’s about all those times that I scream things aloud, thinking that my random thoughts will assist anyone who’s listening. Unfortunately, the only person who is ever listening is me.
And I rarely take to my own good advice.
Here are a few things I routinely scream into the void during my day-to-day existence.
Thank you!
I say thank you a lot. And I mean a lot, a lot. The other day I was leaving the Walmart, and when the greeter said, “Thanks for shopping at Walmart,” I screamed in a thunderous and slow voice, “Thaaaaaank yoooou.”
Why did I space it out like that? Why such a low tone of voice?
Why am I the way I am?
These are the questions that have haunted me for the past 72 hours.
I yell thank you when a fellow motorist moves a lane over to let me merge, despite being in my car and there being very little chance of them hearing my declaration. I say thank you to the brisk morning air when a car stops for me at the crosswalk. I say thank you to my non-English-speaking dog when she waits to get to the field to poop so I don’t have to carry around her fecal matter in a bag for five blocks.
Stupid Mother-fuck piece of ass garbage (or some angry variation of this)
Juuuuust when you thought I was an impeccably polite person.
I scream this often and with vigour. When someone cuts me off in traffic. In my office, when I delete my book draft out of sheer frustration, forgetting that I do not have a backup. While in the garden trying to construct a makeshift fence so my dog will stop napping directly on top of the tomato plants.
I may have anger issues.
Holy Macaroni Sticks, Batman!
I started saying this when I was 17. I was at a party, and some guy had shotgunned (chugged) one of those tall cans of beer and I was so impressed that this precise string of words flew from my mouth hole without thought. I received exactly one laugh from this little quip, which was enough for my brain to assume it would be a good thing to say for the rest of my life.
I’m reasonably certain that was the only time anyone ever laughed at this saying. But that’s probably because it makes absolutely no sense at all.
Cool cool cool
This, in fact, does not mean “cool” at all. It actually means very uncool. Many uncool things seem to happen when I am around, so I find myself, face held high to the heavens screaming, “cool cool cool” in some sort of manic voice often.
Yowzah!
Last week when I was out on one of my many walks, I found myself in a highly uncomfortable situation. I had made the age-old mistake of wearing short shorts (they were also jorts — jean shorts for the layman), and as any thick thighed human being knows, that shit rides up within seconds of physical movement.
By the fifth time of picking my front bum wedgie and pulling the meagre “legs” of the shorts down to cover my hefty inner leg meat, I was growing impossibly weary of the task.
So eventually, I said fuck it (into the void) and just let it slide — literally.
There I was, walking around my neighbourhood, donning what was essentially a pair of stretch denim panties.
Janties, if you will.
It. Was. Glorious.
The breeze felt phenomenal!
But then, some guy passed me, gave me a blatant look up and down and literally, I shit you not, said “Ew” into the void but not really because it was directly into my face.
“Yowzah,” I replied loudly after we had passed each other because I’m not brave enough for an actual confrontation. And you know what, I think that got my confusing point across quite nicely.
Fuck it
As demonstrated in my last story, yelling fuck it into the void is the chronically insecure person’s way of taking back ownership of their life. Worried about the chin hair, you forgot to pluck this morning before work? Fuck it.
- Start an Instagram Account called Henry the Chin Hair
- Closely document the life and times of Henry the Chin Hair’s adventures through artful photography (heavily filtered pics of your chin hair at the mall, carnival or with a b-list actor) and reels of Henry dancing/swaying to popular music clips.
- Wait for the Netflix development deals to start rolling in.
You’re welcome.
I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I say fuck it at least 17 times a day. It works in almost every situation.
Give it a try!
(LRB does not take any responsibility for the actions and/or consequences that may befall you after screaming fuck it, during random situations in your life.)
Oooooh, well this is exciting!
I find many things exciting. And when something exciting crosses my path — such as a random dog wearing a tutu or my boss gracing me with his presence in the laundry room while singing weird and mysterious songs to me — I’ll respond immediately by saying, “Oooooh, well this is exciting!”
Every single time.
It’s not easy to yell so many strange sayings into the void daily; it’s extremely tough on the vocal cords, you know. But it is my burden. I will continue to have conversations with my brain and yell random things at cars, all the while knowing, deep in my soul, that they can’t hear a goddamn word of any of it.
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This post was previously published on it’s just foam.
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You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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