|Hello again, World. I'm back.|
So here I am blogging again for the first time in what, a year? All because the weather makes me sad and when I'm sad I start to write and when I write I think about my life and its meaning to the ages. And the wheel of narcissism that we call "self reflection" continues.
People who post to Facebook what they had for breakfast are a bit self consumed. People who post thoughts about their lives for the public to read are narcissists. Whatever happened to the days, say about age 10-15, when if you kept a journal or any sort of record of your life, you damn well made sure to keep it hidden. Whether it was in the corner of your mattress, under your nightstand, the back of your closet, or in a chest buried in the deepest darkest part of the deepest darkest forest, you not only hid it there, you made sure it stayed hidden. I used to have nightmares about what would happen if someone should happen to find and, God forbid, read my journal...not that I had one, but if they had, I can only imagine the shame that I would still experience from my secrets having been exposed. Now I write it and say, here Google, NSA, and World, read about me! I'm not really for studies in narcissism, but if you need company on grey fall or winter days, I'll be here writing about the elephantine adventures of the seasonally affected, at least until the sun shines again in the spring time.