Will the Real Me Please Stand Up

There was a little girl

Who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good

She was very good indeed.

When she was bad, she was horrid.

(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

From Rarasaur and Prompts for the Promptless – Season 2 Episode 1:  The Alter Ego

The Alter Ego, in Latin, literally means “Second I” or “Second Self”.  It can refer to an opposite side to the personality within someone, or a counterpart like a trusted friend.

cheer challengedMy alter ego is such a bitch.  Angry, judgemental, sarcastic.  My exact polar opposite, really.  I am an angel of light, and she is a demon from hell.  For the sake of clarity let’s call her Cheer Challenged, or CC for short. You know, so that nobody gets confused and mixes us up.  Because she is not the real me.  I’m surprised you would think such a thing.

Most of the time I try to keep her bottled and caged, locked in a closet or stuffed under the bed,  because frankly she can be a pain in the ass to have around.  I have learned to keep her sedated and soothed with meditation and deep breathing, and by letting her know point-blank that nobody likes her scowly face and pissy attitude. She rants and complains, stamps her feet, rolls her eyes and sighs excessively.  She can hold a grudge for a very long time.  She is full of angst and ennui.  She is exhausting.

So why do I let CC stick around?  Why are there days when we face the world together, joined at the hip? Why do I apologize for her, time after time, feeling remorseful and guilty after little Miss Mad has been out to play?  A sane person would gag her with duct tape and drop her off a bridge.

Well here’s the thing.  I rather admire how her stubbornness makes her strong.  I want to agree with her when she announces that the world is full of idiots.  (Because holy crap, if that’s true, we fit right in.)  When she tries to curse and the swear words get all muddled and jumbled up and don’t make sense, it makes me laugh.  Her snit fits are usually brief, and always funny.  I think she is pretty smart, and insightful, and talented.  Sometimes her jokes are witty, sometimes they’re unkind, mostly they’re just plain hilarious.

CC will never let me nominate myself for sainthood.  We’re both too smart to think that could ever happen.  CC has mellowed and become less volatile over the years, but I think she will always be around, helping me see both sides of things, making sure I don’t take myself too seriously.

The truth is, there are times when I quite  like my dark side.  I embrace my inner bitch alter ego because she is interesting, a little crazy, and very human .

I’m okay, warts and all.  Just one of this earths idiots, trying to be very very good and a little less horrid every day.

Duct Tape Sunday


Sunday is not always a day of rest.  It can also be a day of unbelievable boredom.  Our little shop of horrors should not be open on a day when there is nothing to do except check the clock every ten minutes to calculate how many more minutes are left before we can close the doors and go home.  It’s amazing what some people get paid to do isn’t it?  But come on, do you know how HARD it is to look busy when there’s nothing to do?  Sorry, I’m not giving away my secrets. Besides I think it’s a natural talent that can’t be taught to just anybody.

Our granddaughter Kenzie has been here this weekend with her dog and her duct tape.  She makes Barbie furniture and accessories, wallets, purses, flowers, picture frames, hair bows, bookmarks and a big mess with bits and pieces of duct tape everywhere. Amazing stuff.  She looks on YouTube, finds something she likes and sits down and makes it.

While she does this, I make little boxes out of old Christmas cards.  These are the worlds smallest gift boxes, and I’m not making them merely because I’m nuts. There are some very small gifts that are hard to wrap and this makes it all easier.  Plus incredibly more fun.  I hope that sounded convincing.

Here’s some great music to craft by.  Play it loud enough and no one will hear you crying about your paper cuts.