I was walking with my buddy Ryan to Starbucks today discussing random facts as we always do. For some reason, neither of us could remember one of the 7 deadly sins. You know, the one where you indulge a little too much. The one embodied by that obese man forced to eat spaghetti until he exploded in Seven. We walked for awhile and the word was just not coming to me.
“The little man in my head is failing me” I said, frustrated at my inability to recall a familiar fact.
“What little man?” Ryan asked.
“The little man that runs the filing cabinets of information in my head. Sometimes it takes a little longer for him to pull the right file. Is that weird?”
“Not really. I just find it a little odd that when you imagine the little person in your head, it’s gender specific. What does it mean that you have a MAN operating the files in your head?”
You know what? I never thought about it like that. I always imagine a short, nebish old man, balding with glasses and suspenders. Seems like the kinda of guy who can keep the large pool of information in my head organized. I’m sure that plays into some age-old gender stereotypes. Or maybe some unresolved psychological issues with men?
Perhaps my bigger concern should be that I believe that I have a tiny person inside my brain.