Today's Episode: You Don't Need Guilt to Feel Guilty--Starring: Me & My Conscience!!

For this segment of Katie Unraveled: Is She Really Insane? we're going to travel deep inside the intricate passageways of her mind--even rooting around in her conscience, see what guilt lies beneath the layers!


Strap on your seatbelts, close your eyes, and pray you won't end up as mentally deranged as Katie in...1...2...3...


(theme song plays)


Me: Welcome, welcome, please take a seat around the circle! Put your books down, cellphones in your pockets--because, naturally, all eyes should be on me--ears listening, minds active...after your long and utterly stressful journey, today's episode of Katie Unraveled: Is She Really Insane? is going to explore the depths of my conscience, and the different sections of my brain! Fair warning, if you value your sanity, I recommend getting back on your mode of transportation and going anywhere that's not here. (I pause and look around) No takers? Okay then.


(I step back and survey my audience)


Me: As you all may know, the smallest things can take refuge inside your brain and hang there, like little parasites inhabiting a space they are totally unwelcome in. This, in a word, is what we call guilt. Guilt doesn't necessarily have to be justified; it doesn't have to be right; it doesn't even have to come from anything. But any way you slice it, when it comes down to it all it is...is guilt. Because at the end of the day, only you, the one holding all that guilt inside, can let it go. And for those of you who have ever held so much of that ickiness inside know it's very difficult to get rid of. You can't just say, "I order you to go away!" because, well...it just doesn't work. Now today I'll be teaching you how to get rid of that guilt--


(Random Audience Member--from now on RAM): Isn't that a bit contradictory? Or, you know, hypocritical? When you can't get rid of it yourself and you're trying to help others do it? That seems--


Me: AHEM! (Silence) Very good question. I will not answer it, but why don't you go home and look it up on WebMD? They know everything! (RAM blushes and says nothing else) As I was saying, I'm going to try to teach you all to get rid of it--if you indeed hold any of it inside. Granted, I haven't been able to do it myself, but I figure if I can't help myself, I should at least help you all. (Deep breath) The best way to recognize guilt is by noticing the physical--or what feels physical--signs. A knot deep in your chest that seems to tighten whenever you walk by a certain person or place or object? That's usually the trigger. Or maybe your vision blacks out when you see said trigger--varies for everyone--but in the end, it's all the same...just comes to us in different ways, if you know what I mean.


RAM: Excuse me, psycho, but I have a question!


Me: (Deeply insulted) Excuse me?! I would like to point out that my show is called Katie Unraveled: Is She Really Insane? and not Katie Unraveled: She's Totally Psychotic! Really, where are your manners?


RAM: But you are, aren't you? You know, insane?


Me: I'm not even going to justify that with an answer.


PWIH (Person Who I Hate): And how does that make you feel, Katie?


Me: ARGGHHHH! Meghan! Really?! You torment me in school, you torment me through e-mails to my parents, you haunt me in my dreams...couldn't you at least let me do my Dr. Phil thing in peace without any of your clinician-analyzing crap? What's next, show up with me in the bathroom? I understand I'm awesome and popular and everything, but really, your neediness for my attentions is truly becoming embarrassing.


(Now identified as) Meghan: I'm sorry, Katie, but your reality TV show is sincerely worrying. Your parents wanted me to make sure you were safe and not in a bad place--


Me: Bad place?! Ha! Bad place my ass!! Does being emotionally and mentally demented count as being 'safe and not in a bad place?'


Meghan: Well, I don't know...I might have to consult my Dummy's Guide for Stupid Clinicians Who Don't Know How to Do Their Job.


Me: Ooh, I like the sound of that! It might be a wise idea to add on "And Instead of Trying to Learn How to Do it Correctly, They Simply Ask How You Feel After Every. Single. Fucking. Statement."


Meghan: GASP!! Really, Katie, you've wounded me!


Me: (turning back to my audience) So, where were we?


Meghan: They're all gone.


Me: Hmm. It must be your lack of personality that drove them away. Nothing more effective to help get rid of a crowd than get a clueless clinician in your posse. You've done that job just fine, thank you!


Meghan: Thank you.


Me: Okay. You can leave now.


Meghan: (sitting there)


Me: Um...Meghan? When I said 'can' I meant 'go.' Now.


Meghan: Right. (Disappears)


(Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride enters)


Inigo: Ah! Katie!


Me: Good afternoon, Inigo.


Inigo: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.


Me: Seriously? This spiel again! C'mon, thirty episodes in and you're still quoting that? Why are you the scriptwriter? Do we need to get a scriptwriter for a scriptwriter? (to myself) What is this world coming to?


Vizzini: Inconceivable!


Inigo: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.


Vizzini: Stop it!


Inigo: That Vizzini, he can fuss.


Fezzik: Fuss, fuss, I think he like to scream at us.


Inigo: Probably he means no harm.


Fezzik: He's really very short on charm.


Inigo: You have a great gift for rhyme.


Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time.


Vizzini: Enough of that.


Inigo: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?


Fezzik: If there are, we'll all be dead.


Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.


Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?


Vizzini: DYEAAAHHH!


Me: Now, Vizzini, remember what we talked about? Managing your anger?


Vizzini: But--


Me: And your alcohol intake? Lord, what did Westley do to you? What kind of drug? It's like...it's like your wacky tobacky--


Westley: Brilliant observation, Katie. I can see you following in Meghan's footsteps.


Me: Well now that's just insulting.


Westley: Oh, no, but I do mean it in the most complementary way. You can probably do it--maybe...


Me: Oh, well, thank you very much, very nice of you. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.


Grandpa: HEY! That's my line!!


Me: Well I don't see your storybook anywhere.


Westley: Speaking of, why are we all here if Katie doesn't have the story?


Me: I don't know. Why is Westley asking a question using my name but not addressing me? Ah, the mysteries of life...


Westley: Questions that will never get answered.


Vizzini, Inigo, Fezzik: INCONCIEVABLE!


Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get some originality, would you?


Inigo: Originality's my middle name!


Me: No it's not. Your middle name's Ricardo or some other Hispanic sounding name...


Inigo: (scoffing) Ricardo?! Please! That was the name of my VERY distant cousin, Edward Ricardo Montoya. We've never liked him.


Me: Why not?


Inigo: He didn't eat his vegetables at dinnertime.


Me: That's all?


Inigo: What? What were you expecting?


Me: Something...more interesting?


Inigo: 'Originality' is not the same thing as 'lying' or 'making things up.'


Me: Wow, Inigo. Very inspiring. I couldn't have possibly guessed.


Inigo: Smartass.


Westley: Since when are asses smart? Last time I checked they flunked their exams.


Me: Haha. WOW--YOU'RE SO FUNNY!!


Westley: Your comments are deeply injurious.


Fezzik: Ooh, looks like the story fell out of the sky!


Grandpa: Seriously? Again? Arghh, I keep calling the director to have him send out maintenance, but no, they're too busy. (Pauses and steps closer to the book) Okay, everyone. Jump in!


Vizzini: Who are you, my kindergarten teacher?


Grandpa: Maybe. I've been known to be many things.


Me: I can only imagine.


(Vizzini, Grandpa, Westley, Fezzik, and Inigo jump in)


Me: Bye-bye. Please don't come back...for a long time--if you can help it.


Westley: As you wish.


Me: Say hi to Buttercup for me!


Westley: Perhaps. But I think she might be off slaying off the deadly shrieking eels right about now. I'll tell her when I see her.


Me: You do that.


(They all leave)


Meghan: Looks like it's just us again, eh?


Me: (glaring at her menacingly) Nope. Just me.


(Meghan runs far, far away.)


Me: And that concludes today's segment. Please join me for a new episode of Katie Unraveled: Is She Really Insane? next week, when I discuss the pros and cons of having a clinician. (to self) And this is totally not a dig to Meghan! (quiet) Even though it totally is.


*theme song and everything cuts out*

Your True Colors

All I have to say is, your 'true colors' are ugly as hell. Seriously, you're a nasty person--and I don't throw that term around loosely.

Why do you do this?

I love my mom-obviously-but sometimes she drives me crazy. When I'm in a pissy mood or just sort of irritated--not even with her!--she always comes in with this smug, knowing look, and says, "Why are you upset with me? What did I do? You look so angry!"

My response is always through gritted teeth: "I'm fine, Mom."

"You don't look fine, Katie," she says, her expression innocently aggravating. "You look quite upset. What have I done wrong?"

I sort of want to say, everything! Just leave me fucking alone! I'm. Not. ANGRY!

But instead I say, "You haven't done anything wrong, Mom. I'm just in a weird mood. Seriously. You haven't done anything."

She then presses the issue further, going, "No, I obviously have...why don't you want to tell me?"

Maybe because you haven't done anything!! I want to scream, instead saying, at my wit's end, "I'm not mad, Mom, but if you keep going on like this, I will get mad. But at the moment I'm not upset with you."

Then she gets one of those wounded, why-won't-you-tell-me? mother looks on her face, a silently disapproving look etched onto her features, saying, "Fine, then."

Does she want me to be mad? You'd think after the five times I said, 'No, I'm not mad, Mom' she'd get that, hey, I really wasn't mad. How hard is it to understand?

I'm not speaking Martian, am I?

You asked my opinion, but didn't like my answer

I pride myself on being able to tell people the truth...not too bluntly, mind you, but I never gloss it over. If, for instance, my friend Brittany asked me how her new hair looked--I would not tell her "Oh, it looks fabulous!" Because frankly, her hair stylist butchered it-and the coloring job? She looked like Strawberry Shortcake!

I would most likely tell her, "It's interesting, but it doesn't really suit your facial features. I could help you find an awesome hat to keep it under cover for a few days," because that's what nice people do. They tell the truth, but they also don't go, "UGH, it's terrible! Awful! Horrendous! Really, what were you thinking?!"

Now I'm all for giving advice or answering you when you ask for my opinion, that's fine. What's NOT fine is asking me-begging me for it-and then when I give it to you, breaking down and sobbing. Hell, while you're at it, you might as well say, "Oh, you've ruined my life!!"

You know full well that when you ask me for my opinion, I'm gonna give it you. So for God's sake, if you can't stand to hear it, don't ask me! It's not brain surgery. Trust me, I don't like your response anymore than you apparently dislike my opinion. It goes both ways, hon.

Moral of the story is this: I know you know that when I give you my opinion, it's...my opinion. Don't expect me to lie to you; you ask me and I'm giving it to you.