I Had Brunch With My Inner Critic

The ska-inspired Fleetwood Mac cover band was an interesting choice, but they grew on me.

Some of the songs were so good I ended up Shazam-ing a few while others I’ll have to find on my own because of noisy cutlery and noisier guests.

The rooftop bar had a paralyzing view of the city so much so that the French toast threatened to get cold and the drinks dared to dilute. The fruit cup would survive.

“So what did you want to talk about?” queried the critic.

He had always been so direct, invasively and annoyingly so at times. I used those memories of irritation to fuel my honesty: you’re a jerk and you’re ruining my life.

Creatively, things have been stagnant. Don’t get it twisted; ideas are booming. That’s how they suck you in, after all. The problem is I can’t get going, and instead of helping me, you twist the knife and force me to treat the wound.

He sipped some tea as Neevie Sticks began their rendition of “Everywhere”. He almost burned his lip at the irony.

“Now why would I do something like that?” the recomposed critic asked.

Because you hate me. Because you are the voice of my hypercritical yet neglectful parenting. Because you echo society’s mission statement of search and destroy. Because you are an empty vessel making the most noise.

“Glad to hear Mama’s money isn’t going to waste on that master’s degree.”

I asked myself if such a backhanded compliment should be met with a dash of mimosa in his face. Unfortunately, the place was too classy. I’m too classy to be so melodramatic, and he’s too classy to do anything but laugh and finish his eggs benedict while everyone stares at him, sticky with superiority.

But then again, it’s bottomless mimosas. They’ll just bring another. I chose alcohol over violence.

“Has it ever occurred to you that everything I say is for a reason? Y’know what, don’t answer that. Here’s more free advice: you’re not always going to feel like doing what you’re supposed to be doing, champ.

“Therefore, you have to see the worth in the thing you want to do in order to do the thing that you now have to do. If there is no emotion to drive you, will you still do it, or are you someone solely driven by emotion?”

Better question, should I trust this advice that sounds good from a voice that sounds evil?

I’ve given this advice before, and I know the worth of my why.

I know talented people and I know people desperate to be talented, but the answer to ‘if they should do this or that’ is always the same: do the work, and whatever outcome you get, grow from it.

Whether you get the praise that you want or the pity that you don’t, you can’t let it get to your head. You can’t let the penny section dictate your policy. Practice to act from principle and you won’t regret your work.

I told him that it felt like I was life’s latest victim of the overjustification effect. Once I began to earn money from doing what I valued rather than selling my soul to the highest bidder, I couldn’t find the energy to act anymore.

The intrinsic value I prided myself on after escaping the temptations of the almighty dollar was replaced by the external reward of the almighty dollar. But isn’t this what I wanted?

There were some vague shots at capitalism thrown in there for good measure, but ultimately, I didn’t want him to see me blame external factors, so I brought it back to me not knowing things.

“Capitalism isn’t fun,” agreed the critic, “but neither was serfdom.”

Riveting stuff from the world’s foremost expert on scatology, which allowed us to settle into our comfortable pattern of silent defeat because the problem still wasn’t solved.

As I dissolved into the skyline, I wondered how staring into space always made space in my mind. Pressed up against my anxiety for this obnoxious individual who was really just my parents, society, Marsha, anxiety is all I ever saw.

I guess space makes you honest too. Deep down I felt a lot of shame because I felt I betrayed myself for losing my intrinsic motivations. But did I lose them, or did it only feel as if I did? Because I wouldn’t have even done the work if I didn’t truly care to begin with.

Also, I realized I was guilty of another bias by saying intrinsic motivations were inherently better than extrinsic rewards. Why not value both? After all, it is the extrinsic rewards that allow me to continue to fulfill my intrinsic motivations.

I don’t have to choose one or the other, but I kind of have to choose both.

It’s like a relationship. You get into it because you want to give love, but if you receive love do you just throw the relationship in the trash because the rewards are overshadowing your motivation to give love?

Of course not! You wouldn’t want your partner to miss their own motivation to give love to you, and they’d want the same for you. The best part is that the system sustains itself. My shame evaporated in the background along with Neevie Sticks’ finale, “Landslide”.

The enjambment of a wrought iron chair scraping along lukewarm tile floor woke me from myself and I saw the critic get up and dab his mouth with his napkin. Gone already?

“Yeah, I chose this spot because I knew they’d be playing here today. What I didn’t know was that they’d play ‘Landslide’. Gets me every time, but I don’t want to cry in front of you.

“I’ll say this. Yes, I am the voice of your parents, society, Marsha. But you have to admit, sometimes criticism improves performance, right? Plus, I don’t criticize everything about you.”

He downs a mimosa before he concludes.

“If you’re not comfortable receiving good things, become someone who does because there’s a lot of people who you are denying the opportunity to reward you.

“Oh yeah, last thing. You said earlier that I twisted the knife, but who really stabbed you first?”

He slapped down a handsome payment and left before the final verse.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

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From The Good Men Project on Medium

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My 9-Year-Old Accidentally Explained Why His Mom Divorced Me

The One Thing Men Want More Than Sex

The Internal Struggle Men Battle in Silence

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