Josh Battles his Self-Esteem
Part I of an ongoing series

Here at Buriedinthenoise-dot-com world headquarters, we are constantly waging war. (Do people go around “waging” anything else?) Not against rogue nations or ‘evildoers’, not against orcs or goblins, but against the continuing onslaught of poor self-esteem. The launch of the website once again pits me against the hulking, bloodthirsty despot that serves as my Low Self-Esteem Monster, or LoSEr.

In an effort to reach peaceful settlement, or at least a twitchy detente, I have decided to give the LoSEr a public forum in the hope that it might leave me mercilessly alone. If nothing else, maybe it will agree to simply hover in the background, offering sage wisdom at appropriate times, rather than the current situation of peering over my shoulder to question where I get off using up the air that everyone else is trying to breathe.

Today’s topic is the forum itself, my website, which has thus far aggravated the LoSEr incessantly. I have asked the LoSEr to join me for an open discussion.

Josh: Thank you for joining me, LoSEr.
LoSEr: Not a problem. Wait...you’re wearing that?
J: Yes. Please try not to get distracted by my clothing.
L: I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.
J: All right. Let’s get started. So, what is it you are objecting to, exactly?
L: Everything.
J: Everything?
L: Well, everything on the website.
J: Come on, it’s not all bad...is it?
L: No, not all bad. The font has an elegant simplicity.
J: It’s Arial.
L: It’s fantastic. But aside from that I really don’t see where you have any business sharing this writing. Sure, there are some cheap laughs in there, and the language occasionally rises above the pedestrian, and sometimes you even manage to have a creative impulse snaking its way through a piece. But really, who do you think you are?
J: I don’t think I’m anyone. I’ve been writing for fun for a long time, and I figured that since I’m going to be doing it anyway, I may as well start working on getting some feedback and possibly even entertaining others with what I’m creating.
L: Aren’t you relying on your readers to have both excessive time and ridiculously low standards?
J: That would work out well for me. But if they’re angry, they can send me an ill-tempered e-mail. Hate mail is actually pretty entertaining most of the time.
L: That’s true. Gives me material, if nothing else.
J: Anyway, what I’d like is to come to an agreement with you regarding BuriedintheNoise-dot-com. I would like to continue to develop my writing, even occasionally sharing it.
L: Sure. When do I get to start ripping you for it?
J: Well...you don’t.
L: Oh, yes I do.
J: Maybe you could just...ease down on the overt criticism.
L: It’s not my fault you suck.
J: See, like that. That was just mean.
L: I’m not here to make friends, buddy. I’m here to keep you from doing anything stupid.
J: You have to trust my judgment a little bit.
L: Let’s say that I do. Then before we know it you’re doing all sorts of confident things. Sure, it’ll start small. You’ll wear a shirt that isn’t a really dark, bland color. You’ll belch quietly in front of someone else and not excuse yourself. Pretty soon, you’re out of control: driving around with your car stereo blaring The Lord of the Rings soundtrack, jumping naked from suspension bridges, returning half-eaten fruit to the grocery store, and not just asking for porn at Blockbuster, but demanding it.
J: So, you’re implying that allowing me to post something I’ve written will eventually lead to increasing levels of arrogant obnoxiousness?
L: Something like that. Depravity, too.
J: Isn’t it possible for me to obtain some self-confidence without becoming a raging man-beast?
L: Well...perhaps.
J: Listen, we’re going to have to have an understanding if I ever want to post anything other than inoffensive humor pieces.
L: Are you going to try out offensive humor now? Hey, did you hear the one about the goat and the French tongue depressor salesman?
J: Yowee, I think we can be more tasteful than that. I just meant maybe an occasional essay or short story. My defense mechanism has always been humor, so I’ve got that covered. I mean, I’ll probably never really get away from that, but it’s especially hard with you taunting me about it.
L: [Crosses arms and glares at Josh silently.]
J: So, maybe just a little less edge?
L: Okay, here’s the reason I do what I do. You really hate egomaniacal people, right? The kind of people who are so self-absorbed that they can’t even conceive how their actions are affecting others? These people seem to be spreading like locusts and even successfully running for public office. This is what you never want to become, so it’s my job to make sure that never happens.
J: Well, I appreciate that, but I think you have a circuit jacked too high. I mean, you’re giving me grief about everything from my socks to my personal magnetic field.
L: You’ve really got to do something about that, by the way. I mean, reverse your polarity or something for goodness sake.
J: You know I can’t do that without some sort of quantum accelerator.
L: Well, then at least change those socks.
J: What’s wrong with my socks?
L: That tint doesn’t really work for you.
J: The tint? What, white? White doesn’t work for me?
L: You’re writing, wearing white. Who do you think you are, Tom Wolfe?
J: I am not Tom Wolfe. I’m running a meager website and wearing plain socks.
L: Yeah, with brown shoes.
J: I’ll tell you what. If I go put on the calf-highs and some Chuck Taylors will you take the afternoon off so I can get some work done?
L: All right. Maybe I’ll go bug the guy across the street, he’s painting his house some sort of violent orange color. But I’ll be back. And I want to read what you’ve written when I return.
J: Fine. Don’t get gruesomely mauled by a bulldozer as you cross the street or anything, okay?
L: Very funny. You’re a jerk, you know that?
J: You’re just saying that. Wait...unless I am a jerk...
L: Dude, you are too easy.

With that, the LoSEr made an offensive remark about my carpet and exited in a vaguely insulting manner. I’m left mumbling to myself as usual.

To be continued...

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