I’ll be the first to admit that I can be cocky.
I’m certainly not egotistical about everything — most of my life is spent self-consciously over-analyzing everything I do. (For example, I forgot the word “party” earlier today and said “shebang” instead and it’s been haunting me for 11 hours now. Shebang.) There are a few areas, though, in which I have such complete confidence in myself that even I find it annoying.
Areas in which I Am Cocky
- I’m a pretty good writer.
- I’m a really good Google searcher.
- I have the PLU code for bananas memorized a decade after leaving the grocery industry. It’s not really a big deal. Quit applauding, you’re making me blush.
I’ve been hearing voices for a long time. Not in a schizoid kind of way, or even in an “I’m picking up Top 40 radio with my orthodontia” kind of way. The ones I can hear are not as friendly as Casey Kasem sounds. In fact, they’re downright mean.
I think (read: hope) even the most well-adjusted people face an inner critic from time-to-time. Even if you don’t hear a literal voice, you know what I mean when I talk about something nagging you deep in the back of your brain while you’re trying to accomplish something.
It’s like the meanest person you’ve ever met is standing directly behind your left shoulder, nitpicking every single thing you do. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” your inner critic says. “I can’t believe you thought you could do this. YOU ARE RUINING EVERYTHING THAT IS GOOD AND DECENT IN THIS WORLD RIGHT NOW, YOU BOOGER-EATING FUNGUS LICKER. YOU RUN LIKE A WATER BUFFALO!”