Who is Crabby Old Lady?

As I was writing the post about “Becoming Who We Are” a few days ago, I inserted in an early paragraph this notation: “…Crabby Old Lady, who is looking over my shoulder as I write...”

Since then, I’ve been wondering about self-consciousness, our sense of “I” and “me.” Normally, I could pull Freud and Jung and some others off the shelves for a refresher on what’s known or been speculated about human consciousness, but all the books are packed for moving now and I’ve no time for online research. So this is an uninformed rumination.

Who Crabby is has come to mind because that phrase, the other day, kind of wrote itself without my volition; I could feel Crabby wanting to take off on a tirade about self-help gurus. The temptation was strong, but it was not the topic of the day’s post and I mentally shoved Crabby aside in a manner similar to physically removing the cat from the desk when he’s in the way.

And it was Crabby Old Lady, not me, trying to force herself into the story. She and I, over the two years of the existence of Time Goes By, have become distinct entities – in my mind, if not yours.

Crabby was born soon after Time Goes By was launched when I was trying to write this piece about noisy troglodytes who hang out on the stoop of my house at night and due to a quirk of acoustics, sound as loud as if they’re sitting on the end of my bed.

The story was gaining a nastier edge than I had intended when I discovered that writing it in the third person tempered the anger, giving it the lighter tone I wanted for something that is, after all, only a minor irritation of life in the big city. But who was that third person? How would I identify her?

When the phrase “crabby old lady” came to mind, it was a Eureka! moment. It’s a good description of one of my less endearing qualities and by assigning that grumpy demeanor to Crabby, I – that is, Ronni – would be free to write as the good-natured, although somewhat earnest being I otherwise tend to believe I am.

In her first few blog posts, Crabby – or, rather, I – floundered around until she settled into herself. And I do mean herself because at sometime when I – Ronni – wasn’t paying attention over these past many months, Crabby became more than a literary device; she took on her own character.

Crabby would never wear pants as I do every day. Only dresses and skirts for her, long ones. She would take more time with her hair in the morning instead of hastily pulling it back in ponytail. She has a more formal nature.

She’s more old-fashioned than I am too, more at ease with what she retains of the attitudes and interests of her youth even though they are no longer culturally au courant. Although I care much less, these days, about what other people think of me, Crabby arrived at that point long, long ago.

And Crabby is better disciplined. She’d never procrastinate as I do (if she had her way, the packing would long be finished). And most of all, Crabby has not a compunction in the world about telling it as she sees it. She never pulls her punches no matter who is involved and wouldn’t think of sugar-coating a negative opinion for propriety’s sake.

What Crabby and I share – strongly – is an enduring curiosity about what getting older is really like and an unshakable belief that the culture must allow elders back into the mainstream of American society.

That said, Crabby is not as distinct as, for example, some of Sybil’s multiple personalities (remember Sybil?), so I think my sanity is intact.

But I wonder how I’ve come to create Crabby Old Lady as a separate part of my consciousness. When she hasn’t written a blog post in awhile, she nags me about it, as though she has an ego independent of mine. Sometimes, when I'm writing for TGB, I hear her admonish me: “Oh, come on, that’s way too tame. Let me write it.” Yet I can’t remember ever chiding or even speaking directly to Crabby as she does to me. When she’s hanging around, Crabby appears to be the stronger personality.

I’ve never tried fiction writing, creating characters and giving them distinctive personalities and behavior. Many writers have spoken of their characters' takeover of the story, moving it in directions the author hadn't planned. Perhaps Crabby Old Lady is a similar kind of invention. Or, maybe Crabby is my more idealized self, what I would like to be if I could remove some internal restraints. Or...

Crabby Old Lady is dying to get a word in here. What that word is, is “Balderdash. What a bunch of twaddle. Let’s just get on with the blog.”

Comments

[Tamar]

Oh this is a great post! No. no. Crabby, it ain't "balderdash" - give a woman a break! It reminds me of Danny Miller's one about "Blog Danny." It has got me thinking ... really thinking ... and of course I am making connections to my inner life as I think.

But let me just say this.

Crabby is essential to us all. She tells it as it is in such an appropriate and amazingly forthright way. And Ronni, is our dear, lovable, caring friend ... not that Crabby isn't. It all reminds me of an Oprah saying I saw this morning about mothers:
"They can lift your heart and shatter your nerves, make you push the hair out of your eyes, and eat broccoli."

That pretty much sounds like the both of ya to me!

And I am *so* grateful to you both - always.

[Naomi Dagen Bloom]

do you think this is gender-linked, ronni? or is it generational? though my general behavior seems far crankier than yours, there are times when the "1950s woman" imprinted early on makes me step back.

glad to have you examine this--as always.

[Chancy]

Ronni, I think there is a "Crabby Old Lady" in all of us. One who is perhaps squelched in many by timidity or the need to conform.

Oh lordy, lordy! I just heard Crabby shout from TGB, "Timidity? Give me a break."

[Marylouise]

My crony's name is Lizzy Snipe and we get along a lot better since I gave her a name. The older I get, the more I appreciate her brand of truth and the more I let her speak in various ways. Needless to say, her views are not always well-received but isn't this "indulgence" timely now that I've reached that "certain age?"

[donna]

I don't have a crabby old lady - my alter ego is a teenage rebel who likes to drive around Republican neighborhoods blaring rock protest songs from the radio....

Boy do I get some weird looks. But that's the best part. ;^)

[Claude]

I like Crabby Old Lady and mind you, she has even written to me! ;)
Writing in the third person allows for more things to be said, I think, and I have often wondered if I wouldn't try it. But like donna above, I think my inner voice might be that of a child or of a teenager.

Don't forget that on your team, there's not only Ronni and Crabby Old Lady, but also Ollie. And by the way, I'd like to know what he has to say about your moving!

[kenju]

I have a crabby old lady in me too, and she tried to come out at the most inopportune moments....LOL

[joared]

Have to admit to having a certain fondness for Crabby Old Lady, but for heaven's sake don't tell her.

"...a bunch of twaddle" ... I don't think so. She might even like the fact you're acknowledging her.

I like that whole concept of writing as another part of one's personality. Interesting how you evolved into that.

Maybe you should listen to Crabby Old Lady a little more than you say you do. Don't let her dictate too much, though, -- dress like you darn well please.

Yes, I remember Sybil, then the movie with Joanne Woodward.

[Little Sister]

Dear Ronni,

Wonderful insightful piece. Thank you. We've all got pieces of ourselves that we need to explore, develop, crush, whatever, but mainly to express.
I have a request. I hope today's end piece in the NYTimes magazine section will inspire you to write on that topic.

[Kate]

Like these other readers I really like Crabby. When she's on a rant there is absolutely no doubt about her opinions and since she gets to vent, you may be having fewer headaches. :)

I can identify with her name, too...however, since you've been enlightening me about ageism (and other unconscious forms of prejudice) I wonder if 'she's' really happy with the name.
One dict. says 'crabby' is grouchy and ill-tempered. I think she is really just opinionated and willing to let us know what rattles her cage. 'Old'?...not for me to say. I don't know her age, but she's not much older than I and I am NOT old, yet. And 'lady'...well for me, that term is situational; sometimes a lady, sometimes not. (Actually, for me, rarely a lady!)

Keep letting her write; she ALWAYS brings great stuff to the conversation.

[Chancy]

I join Claude in wondering what Ollie thinks about all the boxes being packed and how he is adjusting to the impending move. Cats have a sixth sense so he is fully aware of the upcoming changes in his life.

Hang in there Ollie. Ronni will be all settled in before you know it and she might even leave one of the biggest boxes for you to hide in at the new place.

[buffy]

“Oh, come on, that’s way too tame. Let me write it.” Ronni, I didn't realize until just now that I must have my personal version of "Crabby." I can't tell you how many times I've censored my words, pussy-footing around to avoid hurting someone's feelings or offending another's sensibilities. It a way, it's a relief to understand that others have this same duality.

When she wants to speak, let her rip! But don't be afraid that we only come to see if "Crabby Old Lady" is ready to come out to play. I think I can safely say that we enjoy ALL that you write!

[leah]

Help! Ronnie and Crabby Old Lady! I've lost you both. I had been getting notice of your welcome blogs on my e-mail, but something went awry (well, o.k., I probably went awry), and the notices stopped coming. I tried to re-subscribe. Twice (guess that was wrong). But each time I get tangled up with FeedBlitz. It's an octopus that sends out a new tentacle with each try.
Now I get incomprehensible feedblitz stuff on my e-mail. I see links, and I click. Can't help myself. And with each click I sink deeper into the quicksand that the octopus has led me to.
Is there an easy answer to my problem? Will I have to continue to run through my bookmarks each time I want to see your blogs?
I love your cat. I want it.
Regards, Leah

[Tootsie]

Kind of like Miss Manners, but more blunt.