My Inner Being knows exactly who I am and accepts me as perfect. My Outer Being is forever trying to conform to the psychotic standards of American culture.

My Inner Being knows that I have the attention span of a Pop Rock and is cool with that. My Outer Being feigns rapt attention when I have absolutely know idea what someone is talking about.

My Inner Being trusts that I have been truly loved by the men in my life. My Outer Being thinks that they are the posers my father claimed them to be.

My Inner Being wants to sing Karaoke all day and night, my Outer Being wants to torture myself with "work" and "earning" money.

My Inner Being knows that it's OK to spend the day reading the profile of the 563,231 people in my network on Friendster. My Outer Being sends me into a shame spiral for surfing the Internet.

My Inner Being wants to break out in the song everytime anyone asks me a question about Dreamweaver software ("Ooh dream weaver, I believe you can get me through the night.") My Outer Being feels that I am not equipped to function in an office environment.