Entry -4244 and counting.
Alter Ego - The third person in the room when there's only one of you.
Everyone should have an alter-ego. An alter-ego can provide alternative perspectives and can shoulder some of the blame when things go wrong.
I created one last summer. It was for a short story about a party I went to and I did not want to write about me going to a party. Writing in the first person sometimes feels like it's all about me, which it is, but I'd rather it not be. I am already narcissistic enough without adding more fuel to the ego fire.
Jack is his name.
He looks exactly like me if I was better looking, taller, stronger, and had more hair. He has a wondrous ability to stay the same age. The passage of time has little effect, (or is it affect?). He stays forever the same. Sort of a Peter Pan.
He has many of the same foibles as me, lack of confidence, awkward in social situations, plenty of regrets, issues with self esteem and is a terrible speller. He is not sure what to make of life in its entirety. And life, to him, is quite absurd. Humans, mostly, humans are absurd. Not the trees, nor the birds or the stars or the combustion engine. They are what they are and are content to be what they are. Yes, it's people. Of which he is one. People are not content with what is. Isn't that crazy?
By writing in the third person with an alter ego you can disclose things about yourself that no one would guess about you.
"Jack was procrastinating. He knew he was procrastinating. He just choose to ignore it. He knew he was being selfish. He choose to ignore that too. It was nine in the morning and his job was to free the chickens and the ducks from their coops. Usually the caged birds were released on bail a little past eight.
It had snowed the night before, not much, an inch, if that. It looked cold out. He had to put on his galoshes and scarf and coat and mittens and phew, it was all just too much. Instead he watched old Beatle videos on youtube. Seeing the young Beatles play Hey Jude live on the David Frost tv show brought tears to his eyes. It was nostalgic. He tried to hide his tears so no one would comment or make fun of him and think of him less of a man. He had a memory of his dad telling him to get a haircut and telling him to toughen the fuck up and calling him a fagot. Mostly he was perplexed by his father who seemed to have several contradictory sides to him. The two didn't see eye to eye. They were of different generations, different times, different minds. Some memories are not so nostalgic.
Eventually his guilt overpowered his sense of procrastination and reluctantly he put his outer clothes on over his pajamas and went out the door.
Jack's sudden appearance startled a flock of Starlings, their black bodies lifting off the white snow. The lilacs were full of Blue Jays. They squawked and shouted out their warnings as they flew off into the forest. They would be back later. Chickadees and Juncos bolted for safety too. Pigeons on the telephone wire took to the skies and circled. Even Jane the local Raven did a one about to check out the commotion. It was one of those opening scenes in a movie that are sort of foreshadowing, setting the stage for the awful events yet to come. All that was needed was an eerie musical score and unfortunately the only music present was an ear worm going on in Jack's head. 'Hey Jude.' It's sort of a happy tune but it can get annoying after too much brain time. If the birds did not all take to the skies at once he wouldn't have even noticed them.
He fetched fresh water and gave them food and they were happy and Jack was happy his chores were complete and all the wild birds, when they came back, were happy because there was more food for them to eat.
Everyone was happy. The end."
Not really. There's more. But that seems enough right now.
