The Things I Tell Myself



Have you ever had a personal conversation with a friend where a comment “don’t listen to those negative thoughts” or “that’s the enemy trying to attack you” come into play? Their words are something of a verbal reminder or reprimand maybe you should be more positive.

I tend to have a lot of internal conversations with myself. I feel like they can sometimes fall along those lines, but other times, I really enjoy having conversations with just myself. However, if I were to admit those conversations out loud, I’m pretty sure people in the world would run for cover. My thoughts would either land me in jail or get me elected as President of the United States.

Right now, all my thoughts are focused on food and how hungry I am. It’s probably because I’m on a diet. All I can think about is shoving a pizza in my face. Not just a slice, the whole pizza. I don’t feel guilty for that thought one bit. In fact, pizza is haunting me, like the other day at Costco.

I was standing in line watching a mother address her badly-behaved daughter. I can only guess that she was in trouble based on the mother’s tone since she was speaking in Russian, or maybe it was Spanish. They sound so much alike; it’s hard to say. A moment later, the mother’s additional twelve children show up with churros in hand. At that moment, the churro just confirmed they were Russian.

Anyway, one of the siblings gave the girl in the cart a churro and all I could think was, “Not fair. I deserve that churro more than she does; I was very well behaved the whole time I was in Costco.” At that moment, I wanted to walk up and take the churro from her, take a bite, and mic drop it to the floor as I walked away. It was either that, or slap her with the churro, which would have landed me in jail. I can see the news headline now: “ASSAULT BY CHURRO.”

I needed to avert my mind before I did something rash, so I looked elsewhere. Where did I look? Right to the food court and a giant pizza picture taunting me from afar. For a moment, I thought back to what it was like to eat pizza, and for a split second, I’m pretty sure I could taste it. That moment quickly faded when the line began to move forward and my thoughts were brought back to my chicken and asparagus sitting on the moving counter. The next thought that crossed my mind and I kid you not, was “Oh great, my pee’s gonna smell for a week. Well, there’s that to look forward to.”

I think the conversations I have with myself, which I enjoy the most, are the ones I have on weekends. They usually involve me telling myself how great it will be to stay up late and binge-watch Netflix then sleep in till noon. The best part is the ending where I remind myself I am an adult, and don’t have to feel guilty the next day, because no one will know. I normally start with, “You worked so hard this week; you deserve to eat unhealthy all weekend long.” (Now we know why I’m on a diet.)

I faced an internal challenge the day I made new friends who decided to take a vested interest in my lack of socialization. I’ve told them it’s an uphill battle, but they seem to be the relentless kind who enjoy a good project. You might be saying to yourself, well that’s a Negative-Nancy approach, and I would reply that it’s just reality. Oh, and my name’s not Nancy. At this point, I had a decision to make. Should I choose to stay home and enjoy me-time? or should I go out and have fun with these people who think I’m hilarious? In those situations it’s a 50/50 result, but I haven’t made a wrong choice yet, I’m still winning in the end.

Secondary to my weekend thoughts, are the times I decide to talk to myself about the cute guys that cross my path. These conversations are rare. I guess I don’t find very many people cute. Before you go judging me on my shallowness, just consider the fact that there aren’t that many people having internal dialogue about me either. I mean I can wear a T-shirt and tennis shoes better than most people I know, but I doubt that is a big draw to the menfolk. It is my winning personality they have yet to see, which explains why I’m still single and enjoying pizza alone on the weekends. Again another reason I’m on a diet. I like to assess first whether they are a person who makes clothes look good, or a person who needs clothes to make them look good. I personally fall into the latter category. I hate shopping so I grab something off the rack and if it looks decent, and I have a coupon, I buy it. Then I buy two additional colors of the same thing so I don’t have to go back later.

My thought process is only allowed to begin after I verified the man in question is not wearing a wedding ring. Don’t even bother assessing the guitar player on the worship team at church. There is a 99.7% chance he is taken and since the left hand is the one that handles the chords, their ring is usually blaring brightly in my face as I try to worship the Lord of Heaven.

However, if they are sitting a few seats in front of me, and their hands aren’t visible, my mind starts speaking. “So tell me, what brings you to my church? It’s so nice of you to bring your sister to service and let her sit with you. Oh wait, why are you putting your arm around your sister?” Conversation, over.

“Definitely not shaking that guy’s hand during the meet-and-greet time; he doesn’t deserve me anymore. I’m sure there is a cute guy who didn’t make it in to the sanctuary, because he was busy evangelizing to the homeless guy right outside. Oh look, he happened to park next to me, and wants me to join him for lunch.” This vision has not happened yet, probably because I don’t have the gift of prophecy. I have a manifestation of the gift called hallucinations. It suddenly makes sense why I walk up to people and say, “Remember when we talked about that? And they say, “no.” Then a few hours later, I recall having that conversation alone.

Some of the best conversations I have with myself are when I’m in my car. I zone out in traffic on a daily basis, otherwise, I focus on how angry I am to be stuck in traffic when I have better things to do. Like eat a Churro. 255280_288683954571794_1395089711_nTraffic would be the one thing that would drive me to do things Jesus would not approve of, even though he gave us middle fingers for a reason. If Jesus were here, in this day and age, he wouldn’t be turning water into wine. He would be turning traffic into Disneyland. He’d then give me and ten of my closest friends front of the line passes to every ride. The only way I deal with the daily traffic tragedy is to distract myself with my next book story or listen to the radio hosts every now and then. I’ve decided all the people in the cars around me need to find somewhere else to drive because I have to get home in time to catch Dancing with the Stars. I’m not able to record it because I’m still poor. I’ve decided to blame the people in the cars in front of me for that too. They probably did something in the timeline of things that made me unable to afford cable. Just thinking about it, is making me mad. I need two pizzas now.

People have accused me of having a different outlook on life, and I think they are right. It comes from thinking things through a little more than I should. The worst part is, sometimes I have a thought I’m trying to convey with words and only half of my idea comes across and in all the wrong words. It always ends with a strange look from the person I am addressing; followed by an understanding nod and a retreating back as they walk away pretending they’d never met me. With that said, I’ve decided some things, while not necessarily negative, are better kept to myself, at least until I can get all the right words together to formulate an understandable dialogue.

Follow me on Twitter: @lynncorey


  1. Vivian

    I loved this blog! It really had me rolling. I laughed until I cried. Mike Cori, more.

  2. Lisa

    More great stuff!

Leave a Comment