That means that the last few days have been consumed with the writing of the second draft of a commemorative book for a client, the back-and-forthing with an insurance agent, the prepping for a school visit at the Eighth Grade Center @ Springford, the watching of a documentary about graffiti, the blogging about Ismet Prcic's debut novel Shards, the writing of stories for a client news magazine, the neglect of a few emails I still have to write, the repolishing of my nails, the development of a plan to put my William novel into the world, the forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning, the thinking through of my spring Penn course, the preparation for the upcoming Jill Lepore lecture at Villanova University (wait, how does one prepare?), the reading of the first two chapters of The Art of Fielding because it is about time, the cooking of a dinner that could have been better, the reading of a friend's forthcoming novel, the writing of verse for our holiday card, the realization that the roof is leaking again, and the completion of an adult novel that has been in the works for years. I also purchased a few early holiday gifts and made the decision—an emphatic one—that I do not like shopping. No, I do not.
{For those, who, understandably, plan to read no further, please note (see below) that this tongue-in-cheekish list was produced to make a larger point.}
In the midst of all of this, I paged through (lightning speed) the December 5 issue of Newsweek. (Frankly, I still have a lot of questions about this new iteration of Newsweek, but those questions are for another day.) I stopped at page 61, the Omnivore page, where Diablo Cody and Charlize Theron look out upon the reader. The story is called "The Narcissist Decade," and it's an essay Cody has penned in anticipation of the December 9 release of her film "Young Adult."
"Young Adult," as it turns out, is about a not-very-nice seeming young adult author. Cody tells us: "Mavis's humble peers possess something that eludes her more each year: growth. They've matured into seasoned adults with perspective and humility, while Mavis continues to flail in a self-created hell of reality TV, fashion magazines, blind dates, and booze."
(I sincerely hope that Mavis is not meant as a stand-in for all YA authors. I sincerely hope that. I do.)
In any case, later on in the essay, Cody, whose husband has told her that she shares a number of traits with Mavis (an assertion Cody at first denies), goes on to suggest that perhaps we are all narcissists.
Before you get as offended as I did, allow me to explain. Sure, we're not all deranged homewreckers in pursuit of past glory. But if the era of Facebook and Twitter has fed any monsters, it's those of vanity, self-obsession, and immaturity. Who among us hasn't Googled an ex, or measured our own online social circle against that of a perceived rival, or snapped multiple "profile photos" in an attempt to find the best angle? Who hasn't caught herself watching an episode of "Jersey Shore" and thought, "I'm a grown-up. Why am I con6 Comments on Am I a Narcissist?, last added: 11/30/2011Display Comments Add a Comment
You are not a N--ist. You are simply "timesheeting" . . .the tendency of the self-employed to enumerate the tasks of the day, if only to marvel at the absurdity of them!
I agree with Kelly that looking at the absurdity of life (or just life in general as in a blog, a memoir, or a facebook status) is not necessarily narcissistic. The way you do it shows you are thoughtful and that you care about the things you experience.
Well, if you are a narcissist, then we all are.
And, for good measure, we all have ADD. (Or so my conversation yesterday with a couple of school mothers at our sons' swimming lessons would lead me to believe.)
I think that enumerating events on Facebook in and of itself is not narcissistic, but the act of checking back and counting the comments on those updates is narcissistic....that one would care that much that they are loved...but in turn not seeing a satisfactory amount of comments could also be detrimental to the psyche of the supposed narcissist -- so perhaps they are not narcissistic after all but masochistic. ;) (wink)
I wonder sometimes about this new compulsion to share so much of ourselves and our lives. Is it narcissism or a longing for connection?
I want to read this essay you speak of.
There might be a little narcissist in us all, who knows? But I agree with other commenters that there might be other reasons for these things.
I can't see that YA movie bc of the premise of using YA as a sign of never growing up.