176. Another Conversation with Myself

This post is the sequel to a previous conversation with myself. I just can’t seem to catch a break, can I? On a brighter note, check out this opportunity to win a free copy of my novel!

Hey, Adam!

For once, can I write a blog post without being interrupted? Is that too much to ask?

Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy. Blog post, eh? It must be for your amazing typewriter monkey blog.

Go away.

Your blog is great, and I love your novel. How many people are published authors? Not many. You’re really something special, dude. And your sideburns are fantastic. Way better than the Tenth Doctor’s.

Blasphemy! Nobody has better sideburns than the Tenth Doctor.

Except for you, Adam. You’re a good-looking guy, you know. And you’ve got a great sense of humor.

Thank you. Now would you kindly shut up and go away?

There’s no need to be so huffy, dude. I was just trying to be nice.

Really? I assumed you were trying to be a pest.

I’ve never tried to be a pest.

Well, I must say you’re doing dashed well for a beginner.

Ha! That was a brilliant comeback. You clever guy, you!

I was plagiarizing P.G. Wodehouse and you know it. Stop being a shameless sycophant.

Dude, I’m just trying to let you know you’re awesome. Totally awesome.

I’m also annoyed. Totally annoyed. Go away!

What’s the problem? You’re so down on yourself, and that other guy is always tearing you apart. He’s like an evil version of you—the Anti-Adam. I just want to build you up. Call me the Pro-Adam.

There’s a difference between building up someone’s confidence and puffing up someone’s ego. The Anti-Adam exaggerates my faults, but you exaggerate my virtues. You’re just as bad.

The Anti-Adam makes fun of you, dude! At least I’m trying to help.

You and the Anti-Adam have different stories, but you’re equally wrong. If you drive a car off the road and crash, it doesn’t matter much whether you’ve gone too far to the right or too far to the lefta wreck is still a wreck.

The Anti-Adam is wrong, but I’m totally legit. Seriously, you’re a great guy.

I don’t want to hear it. “A man who flatters his neighbor spreads a net for his feet.”

Quoting the Bible. That’s classy. I love how you quote people all the time, dude. You’re really smart.

Nah, I’m just really good at faking it.

There you go putting yourself down again! Listen, dude, you can’t deny you’ve got some mad skills. Like playing Mario Kart. Nobody beats you at Mario Kart.

I concede that.

And you’re generous with your money. And you spend forty freaking hours every week serving mentally handicapped men. That’s a tough job. And you’re good at it. You’re really patient—I’ve hardly ever seen you lose your temper. I could go on and on.

Leaving out all the unpleasant bits, of course. You haven’t mentioned that I’m selfish and insecure and sometimes kind of a jerk.

Everyone is, dude. It’s called being human. On the whole, I think you’re a really good person. Don’t pretend you’re not a good writer or a patient guy.

Do you think I should be congratulated for being a decent writer or having a patient temperament? These talents aren’t mine. They’re God’s. At the moment, they’re on loan.

You learned to be a good writer! You learned to be patient! Give yourself some credit!

My gifts and skills and things are like seeds. I didn’t make them grow. All I did was water them. God made them growand he was the one who planted them in the first place.

What about your virtues? You’re kind and respectful and honest.

Only because I’ve been conditioned to be. If I came from a background of abuse or neglect or poverty, I’d be a mess. That’s not what happened. I come from a background of kindness and faith and love, so that’s who I am. I’ve spent my life with good people. They’ve rubbed off on me.

You’re not just naturally a good person, dude. You’ve had to work at it.

I’ve built up some good things, sure, but the foundation was already there.

You’re being modest.

I’m being honest. Whatever goodness I have is borrowed. That’s really all there is to it. Now go away and let me work on my blog. It’s too late to write a new post… but that might not be a problem.

I love your blog, but, um, don’t post this conversation.

Why not? Now then, if you really want to be help, go heat up some water. I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of tea.

2 thoughts on “176. Another Conversation with Myself

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