In Which I Embarrass Myself

All my life, I've done this thing. I have interviews with myself. Well, I often invent the interviewers, but that's not the important part. The important part is my part as the interviewee.

I don't know why I do it. I can't recall when it started, though I remember doing it as early as I remember talking.

I do know that I continue to do it. Sometimes it's fun. Often, it's comforting. Many times, it's to stave off boredom, which seems to plague me far too easily.

The topics vary. Truly, it depends on the location and circumstances during which the interview takes place. When I'm *ahem* on the toilet, I often interview myself about shampoo or styling techniques for excessively frizzy hair. Sometimes, if the interview is in the bathroom (they often are), I give classes on hygiene skills or tell about my personal experiences with constipation. If the interview is in bed, I'll talk about dreams. Or goals. Or about how hard it is to keep up with the laundry.

When I was in the hospital, pregnant with Aidan and in premature labour, scared out of my mind (literally! haha!), I did interviews about the dangers of premature birth. I did personal documentaries on my experiences with difficult pregnancies. I interviewed about mental health, about anxiety and panic...about fate, and about God.

I am an expert in every interview I give. It's a benefit of being both the interviewer and the interviewee. I'm telling you, I've often wished that there is some universal scribe that is recording all of these interviews of mine, because this is some good shit. Useful! Entertaining!

Now. Somebody please tell me I'm not the only one who does this. Tell me. And yes, you may tell me you think I'm crazy.

That's okay, too.