Alas, poor Yorick!*

I talk to myself. There, I've said it. But I'm not ashamed. I talk to myself to save the rest of the world from having to hear every thought in my head. (For those of you who think I need to do a better job...go suck an egg!)

Many of you who can relate know that it's not a one sided conversation, is it? Like a scripted soliloquy, we are talking to God, or to inanimate objects, or to the thought of someone who isn't there. I soliloquize a lot. I rehearse responses to things that have not been said. In fact, I rehearse the things I DON'T want people to say to me so that I can then rehearse my response. I suppose this is why I sometimes get very agitated for no apparent reason: I can't believe the nerve of myself to say these things to me!

(In my head) 'Dan, we've had complaints about your attitude, lately.' 'From who? Not the customers! But you're right, I do have an attitude. That's because this place is shit!' No. I can't say that. That'll get me fired and as much as I'd love to walk out right now, I can't afford it. 'Attitude? Really?' No. Screw that. I know I have an attitude. I hate this place. Okay. 'I do have a bit of an attitude because I feel like I'm the one doing all the work around here. I can do it all, but then what is everyone else doing?' Ooo, yeah. I like that one. I can do it all, but then what...shit, what was it?

I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I have a problem. It's gotten to the point where I see complete strangers and I prepare myself for what they're about to say.

(In my head) This guy expects me to move? Screw him. I'm going to keep walking. I'm already all the way to wall, he can go around me. He's got all that room over there and he's got all kinds of time, if he walks into me.... And he'll probably give me some kind of dirty look. Well, f*** you buddy. Learn how to walk. (And then the man comes nowhere near me.) That's right buddy. You're f***ing lucky. You people need to learn how to walk! Oh, and what's with this guy, now? I don't have any money. Don't make eye contact. Don't make eye contact.

The problem with all of this rehearsal is that the show never opens. What I mean is, no matter how perfectly I've prepared my rebuttal, the antagonist never seems to hold up his end of the bargain. This is a good thing for them, but it really stymies me. My brilliance is stifled! Which is probably why I enjoy playwriting so much. I can craft, in my mind, what I think is the perfect conversation and take whatever time I need to put it on paper. It's a beautiful thing. Until those good-for-nothing actors get ahold of it and start to ad lib their own perfect responses. Well, that's fine. I'll sit in the audience in a boo. Wait, do I really want to boo my own play. Maybe I'll just shoot spitballs at them while they're on stage...yeah! That'll be beautiful.

I'm a sick man.

***DVD BONUS FEATURE***
Funny how things work. I was thinking all week about writing this entry and what I wanted to say. I hadn't told anyone what I was going to write about because, as with many entries, it might never have made it to the 'net. Then yesterday, out of nowhere, my brother John called me with the sole purpose of telling me about the conversation he was just having with himself. Why'd he call me? We often discuss my posts on the phone or through emails...AFTER I've posted them! Is it possible that the voice in my head is louder than I think? Ooo-eee-ooo.

*This famous line is not from a soliloquy, but from a monologue. I know. I don't care.