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Me, Myself and I – The Great Red Velvet Cake Caper, By Alisa Singer

Are you reading this aloud or “to yourself”. I’m guessing the latter, i.e., that you are actually pronouncing the words in your mind as you read them. So let me ask this: exactly who are you reading to? It’s confusing, isn’t it, because the act of reading “to__” typically contemplates one person reading to another person. However, in this case it is you reading to your self. So are these two separate persons - you and your self? My point is, there appears to be a subject/object relationship underlying every aspect of our thought processes, which leaves us with the uncomfortable conclusion that we aren’t exactly alone up there.

Try this experiment. Make a decision about something, for example, what you’re going to wear to an upcoming fancy event - the slinky black dress or the red suit with the sequined collar. In your mind you weigh the pluses and minuses of each option by means of a discussion you have with your self. You ask your self if you are likely to be able to actually zip the black dress, will the stain show, do you have the right shoes, and whether the red suit is a little too “last year” and gaudy.

Each of these thoughts will be articulated by your conscious mind, presumably in an effort to communicate with some other. The voice drones on and on in our heads all day long, perhaps even as we sleep. This is how human beings process thought, right? (At least that’s how it works for me and, please god, don’t let me be the only one!) And though we only hear one voice at a time, we can operate on the premise that the voice must be addressing someone.

So did you ever stop to wonder who are these different someone's inside your head and what are they really like? Here are just a few of the questions I ask my self about my other self's (selves?):

1. How are my various selves the same and how are they different?

2. What do they look like (do they each look like me?) and what are they wearing today? Is it the cute denim jacket with the silver buttons that I’m wearing and are they wearing UGGS and, if so, how can they afford them if I can’t, i.e. do they have better jobs than me? (I ask my husband about his selves and whether they look and sound like him and he tells me, interestingly, that his selves are all actually women. I then follow up with the “what are they wearing” question, to which he responds that they are all running around naked. At this point my son chimes in, wondering how his father ever gets anything done.)

3. Do my selves sit around a table sipping warm beverages and discussing the issues of the day: Should she (me) sleep an extra 20 minutes and risk being late for work again? Is it better to drive or take the train today? Is Diane really a conniving slut or just a slut? What exactly did Sheila’s husband mean by that remark?…

4. Do my selves have names? Are any of them named Tania? (I hope so.)

5. Do they get along? (One would have to say sometimes not because we’re always hearing people say how they “hate themselves” or are “so mad at themselves” for doing this or that and then there is that whole concept of self-loathing.)

6. Do they strive towards my best interests or do they each have their own agenda?

7. Do they have other friends? Do they ever go out? (Hence the expression “my mind went blank”?)

8. How many of them are there up there?

Ah, this last question is especially interesting. I had been working on the assumption that there were only two, but then I recalled that Freud speaks of three parts of the mind: the Id, the Ego and the Super-ego.

The Id, as I understand it, is the instinctive, pleasure-seeking amoral part of our psyche with the infantile need for immediate gratification of its hedonistic desires, without regard to consequences. (I somehow conjure the image of Jaba the Hut, in diapers). We are born with the Id and it never grows up (witness: shopping malls and Dunkin Donuts). The counter to the Id is the Super-ego, which seeks virtue and more spiritual goals; also this is where guilt resides.

The Ego, the organized, practical aspect of our mind, apparently spends its time running a sort of shuttle diplomacy between the Id and the Super-ego, trying to make peace between these divergent forces - between what we really want to do and what we should want to do. I think the voice we actually hear in our minds alternates between the Ego and the Super-ego, the former reasoning with the latter on behalf of the Id which, as it turns out, never progresses beyond the grunting stage.

Example: Id wants to watch yet another rerun of Sponge Bob Square Pants; Super-ego vies for the History Channel. Ego proposes American Idol as a compromise – juvenile, but with a shred of pop culture appeal. Negotiations like this go on endlessly throughout the day.

So now that I’ve figured this much out I think I know how to game the system. Here’s the scenario: Id wants to get at the red velvet cake I bought as a hostess gift for a friend’s party. Super-ego points out that I’ve gained 5 pounds over the last two months and, with my cholesterol readings, I should be swearing off fatty desserts, like I promised I would.

Ego reasons that one small piece wouldn’t hurt, provided it’s after dinner at the party, because if I open the gift-wrapped package now and take even one piece it would create a glaring hole and look really tacky. While Ego and Super-ego are enmeshed in conversation Id sneaks off to the pantry, grabs the cake and hides it under its shirt. Ego and Super-ego pause and mentally turn to address Id:

Super-ego: “We can see you Id. After all, we do share the same body. That’s how it works with disembodied voices.”

Ego: “Give it back, now that’s a good Id.”

As the cake is wrestled away and returned to the pantry shelf, the infantile Id commences a mournful, blood-curdling (but completely inaudible) wail.

With the three components of my psyche absorbed in this little drama, I sneak off with the cake. Smiling as I peel away the fancy wrapping I think to my selves, Freud was wrong, there has to be at least four of us in there.

About The Author

Learn More About Alisa Singer