Freudian Slip

I’m a person of few words most of the time, but when I start talking, there seems to be no barrier between my brain and my mouth. Most people have a mental filter that keeps them from blurting out whatever is on their minds (Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups). This impulse control is what makes civil discourse possible.

According to Freud, sometimes we speak without conscious thought. Somewhere in the deep recesses of our subconscious is the truth (What was she thinking when she left the house looking like that?). We can try to repress these urges (my neighbor’s an idiot) but they will eventually show themselves (skinny dipping).

Perhaps writers have an especially difficult time controlling this verbal diarrhea. We are constantly poking at the subconscious mind, which gets understandably annoyed. In retaliation, it leaks at the most inappropriate times. Never ask a writer to deliver a eulogy.

“We are gathered here to remember Ralph, livid husband, loud father, good fiend. Ralph lived his life with gay abandon, revealing himself each day to those around him. His legacy will live on in his children, wherever they may be. His generous lecher and kind deposition will remain behind in the hearts of those who lewd him.”

Friends and family have grown immune to our gaffs, and are able to laugh it off when we complain about the customer disservice representative who wouldn’t let us return the adult sex toy last week. I mean, how are we supposed to know that the bells and whistles are broken without a test drive?

But I digress.

There is no cure for the proximity of brain to mouth. If you find yourself slipping, best to cut your losses and shut your mouth for awhile. You don’t need to advertise everything on your mind (raspberry sherbet).

12 thoughts on “Freudian Slip

  1. Ah, you’ve finally touched on the bane of my very existence, the filter between my brain and my mouth. Or the lack thereof. Never thought of just shutting my mouth. What a concept! Thanks!

  2. When I bought that awful gluten free bread and wrote a nasty email telling them that I was appalled that they would sell such a thing, when I went back and read it out loud (of course, calmer by this time), I couldn’t believe what I’d said…! LOL

  3. The contention that all writers suffer from this malady (but she is funny) is, in my considered opinion (hope I get away with this), a gross misapprehension (she seems so bright) of the value of permitting (wish I could control my spoken gaffs) the elegant power of the unconscious mind (horror of the tongue) to dislodge (Revolution!!!) antiquated social habits (killing me softly with its stench).

  4. Hmmmmm, Reeces Peanut Butter cups….

    You’d think they’d be more understanding about taking certain items for a test drive, so to speak, but apparently not. Oh well.

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