G-uno is all over The Magical Vagina ™, so let me introduce to you to my inner bastard. I’m not capitalizing that either, because he doesn’t deserve it. He can go choke on the 200 year old bottom-dwelling sludge of a sewage plant for all I care.
Most of us have one of these inner beings within us in some form or another. He’s the one who convinces you that a morning workout is for chumps, that entire bar of chocolate is only a LITTLE bigger than a bite or two, your boss is totally NOT going to be pissed if you call in sick on deadline day… you know the drill.
Problem is, that inner bastard is also the one that tells you that you’ll never succeed in your dreams, so why try. He constantly invades your thought processes to talk you out of whatever it is you were so excited about a moment before. He will happily play the role of a thousand imaginary people who hate everything you wanted to create before you ever actually created anything, just so you can skip to the feelings of self-loathing and rejection for no reason what-so-fucking-ever. I need to go write a post for the blog (I have small dreams), but my inner bastard is convinced the couch will not hold down itself and therefore I should not move.
I’ve also had various thoughts and ideas of things I wanted to try to do to supplement my income in order for me to move away from a system that completely tethers me to one location, for which I have done exactly dick to make happen. My inner bastard loves to tell me how stupid this is, or that I don’t have the commitment it takes follow through on this other, you haven’t picked up a sketch pencil for fifteen years why in hell are you trying to do so now.
I managed to quit smoking in spite of the inner bastard‘s best efforts and usually I can tune him out pretty well, even when he’s trying to convince me to stay in a bad relationship. For some reason, I just cannot fully eradicate him when it comes to what I want to do with my life. This could be anything from moving, changing jobs, raising money in alternative ways, taking a class, what to do to make myself the happiest. In these areas, I’m completely frozen.
I wish I could understand why in just this one area, the inner bastard has so much control. Logically, I understand that just trying some new avenue is not going to hurt a thing, even if he’s right and I don’t have the commitment to see it all the way to the end. Some small part of a start of something is most certainly better than nothing at all. Picking up the pencil and just doodling is better than staring at a wall or binge watching TV (ha! like I use a TV to binge watch anything…)
Of course, this is the same piece of shit who also likes to remind me on occasion, especially around significant digit birthdays, that my eulogy is going to be awful short considering how little I’ve contributed to society.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to fry the part of my brain where the inner bastard resides. I’m pretty sure it would be the part that looks desiccated, so I don’t think it would be hard to find. At least, it would be nice if it were that easy. The best I can do is try to beat him back with logic whenever possible. Easier said than done, considering he really likes to take over things when I’m already hypersensitive and ready to explode. He is the classic bully in that he loves to kick me while I’m down.
Imagine the world we would live in if all of our inner bastards would just be silent…. floating cars and calorie-melting gum, butt-exercising pants and arm-curling shirts (to get that sleek cut to your suits the ladies find hawt) could have all been a thing. I could be sitting at work and just be thinking about my next post and it would just type and post itself, all with the power of my mind… because we have space for super mental powers now, like telekinesis. Of course while I was at work, my kitchen would be cleaning itself and preparing dinner. Why oh why isn’t this a thing?!
Back to the Future could have been a little closer to accurate. Never take back an article of clothing again, because it resizes itself.
Ok, I’m sure that many might feel that the inner bastard is necessary on some level for keeping us from squirting gas on ourselves and lighting it just to see what happens… maybe. Actually, I think that one is his little, rather abused brother. He’s more soft-spoken and reasonable. I call him Guido (shut up).
If I try to visualize them, inner bastard would be the sloven, stained wife-beater laden mass with an unwashed, unbrushed balding mullet (because he’s convinced the chicks dig the long hair) with a comb over and a perpetual sheen and stench of chicken grease. Guido would be the one sporting the coke-bottle glasses and rocking the v-neck sweater vests, because that’s just how he rolls. He turns into a burly mafia-looking guy Hulk-style when I don’t listen to him.
Why? Why the hell do I do or think anything I do, I’ve long stopped asking myself that question.
inner bastard needs to die. I hope if anything, you do not let him hinder you as much as he has done me. If you figure out how to shut that useless fucker the hell up, please share it. I often envision going Office Space on his ass, especially across that greasy freaking face. Of course, then he steals my lunch money and the mocking begins…