Galiana's Inner Dialogue

I'm probably overdue to explain my inner dialogue, and my Inner Cast of characters.

First, I have been psychiatrically evaluated enough times to assure you that I do not have any real-life split personality disorders. It's a literary convention for me, but it's a darn handy one.

In college acting class, we listed our life roles: daughter, sister, friend, dancer, lover, student, teacher, writer, voice of reason, voice of temptation... All our lists kept growing as we shared them and recognized, "Oh yeah, I play that role too."

I was chosen to play "daughter" with a big burly guy as "father," and I was explaining my classes to him, all clever and guarded and unappreciative, as 20-year-old daughters can be. Then she said "now you're boyfriend and girlfriend" and the instant switch was shocking. Observations flew during post-exercise analysis: we  stood closer, our bodies opened up, I touched him more, he looked at my breasts, and I laughed more freely. Both conversations were me, just me in different roles.

So I started referring to my "Inner Cast". I have an Inner Editor, an Inner Therapist, an Inner Brat, Inner Adventurer, and of course, our favorite girl, my Inner Slut. And dozens more.

How I behave depends on who is driving the bus. When Inner Worry Wart is driving, I choose cautiously. With Inner Perfectionist at the wheel, tasks rarely complete. And with Inner Hedonist in charge, I savor textures and sounds and tastes and scents, and clocks cease to exist.

The Inner Cast never fully agrees on anything. Sometimes, the disagreements get heated. My Inner Chief of Operations sometimes has to tie up Inner Slut and Adventurer to get any work done at all (between you and me, they kinda like that -- it gives them time to plot).

I differentiate "myself" from the cast by calling "me" my Chooser. Chooser decides who is driving, so therefore, Chooser is really always, silently in the background, in charge.

This simplifies conflicting interests for me. Inner Socialite wants everyone to like us and think we're sane, and responsible, and cheerful, and polite, especially in public. Inner Hedonist wants to open that can of whipped cream in the grocery store, toss my head back, and suck half of it down, right here, right now, let's go. Chooser lets Socialite win that little spat. Well, usually...

Look for more Inner Dialogue in posts to come!