We all have a relationship with our inner dialogue. You know, the little voice in your head that babbles for hours without stopping, chattering away with its running commentary on everything you do and experience, sometimes silenced only by meditation, sleep, or tequila shots. (”What little voice?” your mind says as you read this. “I don’t have any little voice! Don’t tell me what I have going on in my head! I am a unique individual! Who the hell are you to think you know what’s going on in my unique and individual mind!” – yup, that’s the one.) It’s faithful, unwavering, with us every moment of every day, life’s only guaranteed constant companion. In other words, we’d gladly commit murder just to shut it up.

As an insomniac, my inner dialogue and I have even more time to bond. At 4 AM, when every sane living organism is asleep, there it is, my tireless confidante, blabbing on about how I really should have picked up milk, called the credit card company, written five more pages and figured out Hawking’s quantum gravity theory before I went to bed. After years of sleepless nights, the dialogue has gotten so advanced that the little voice actually splits, performing a verbal mitosis that leads to multi-tiered summits conducting themselves somewhere in my frontal lobe. Often, major life decisions (starting a blog, quitting law, devouring half a cookie dough tube at 4:30 in the morning) come as a result of these conferences. For instance, there was last week’s powwow:

“I can’t take it anymore! I need a change. I’m restless.”

“Well quit whining and change something, then.”

“I’ll move to Europe!”

“Too isolating. Plus, what about your friends and family.”

“I’ll get a Great Dane!”

“Great idea, if you want Cat and Boyfriend to mutiny.”

“I’ll go bungee jumping in the Andes!”

“Ha! With your coordination? Plus a bum knee? That’d be like watching a marionette get thrown off the Empire State Building.”

“I’ve got it! I’ll chop all my hair off and bleach it Debbie Harry platinum!”

“Oh, right — that’s a good one. There’s no way in hell you have the guts.”

“Screw you! I’m doing it.”

“Bullshit. You’ll chicken out.”

“Will not!”

“Will too!”

“Will not!”

And so on and so on, straight through ’til morning. Thus, I arrive at a life decision.

Good thing my hair grows fast.