Okay, I can’t be the only person that does this. I hope.
Now, mind you, by me sharing what I’m about to share, I am terrified you’re going to think I’m the biggest narcissistic douche on the planet. But I assure you, I’m not. I have a therapist that will attest to my relative well-being.
But I haven’t revealed something embarrassing and vulnerable in awhile.
I bike to work every day. If you’re a regular reader you know all about this. It burns a few calories, is fun for my dog (she rides in a backpack), and I get to see the beach and lake in Chicago. I usually listen to podcasts and music on the way in. It’s about a forty-five minute ride.
Once every so often, I turn off the sound halfway through. Today was one of those days.
This morning, on my bicycle, I interviewed myself, in my head, for twenty five minutes.
I’d like to start by saying, this is not exactly an ego trip. I’ve been interviewed a few times in real life and I never even go back and listen/watch them. Not because I’m too cool to do so, but that it’s way too embarrassing. Plus, I think I always sound like a goof. I don’t actively seek out interviews, and it’s not my dream to be on The Tonight Show.
But, truth be told, I do find myself damned interesting. In this self-interviews I ask myself how I got started writing, and how I watched comedians growing up instead of sports on television. I talk about how my readers seem to resonate with honesty, vulnerability and humor. I talk about how building a base of readers takes a long time, but I’m putting in the effort and writing every day.
I ask myself what goals I have, and I sheepishly say, “Well, one day I’d like to do this full-time, but that’s years down the road. Maybe write a book, who knows?”
I even ask myself, “Where do you get your ideas.” And then… Then I fucking answer.
But again, I swear this isn’t about me looking like a big shot. I just love the idea of talking about myself. To myself. In a weird way it’s kind of a meditation to learn more about myself. A process to ask questions that I have to answer.
I would just like to say that I really have no desire to become famous or anything like that. If I can just keep writing and you keep reading, that’s enough for me. I think. No, wait. I’m lying. I would love to become well-known. Ugh, honesty is tough.
So, whether I’m a narcissist or just a guy with dreams of making a living off his blog, I’d love to feel less alone on this one. Please tell me you pretended it was you instead of Kate Middleton, or that you sing into your hairbrush, or that when you’re cooking you imagine you’re on Top Chef or something. I’m sort of catering to the chicks on those example. Guys, find an appropriate fantasy for you.
Now, I’m going to drown out some of this shame with a Fresca.