Hear/Say

The mythological tale of Narcissius is widely known: self-obsession is an obviously weak downfall; silly, frilly, shallow, foolish.

Narcissius, by bada$$ Baroque artist Caravaggio

Yet we love the Jersey Shore: GTL. Lookin’ fresh. Tee shirt time. Lookin’ fresh to get it in.

In our society: self-confidence is inextricably tied with physical beauty. Sarah says Kim Kardashian has insurance on her a$$ets. We then discussed possibilities of some samurai strolling alongside of her and relieving her of some of that weight. How does justice look in that light?

How does L.A Fitness justify its outrageous monthly prices to use the communal swimming pool and equipment while listening to their shitty inspirational soundtrack? We’ve placed the toned, tan, pearly-white toothed flesh on the pedestal, and then radically jacked up the pedestal.

Lacan’s theory (I think I’ve blogged about this before in a much more serious, emotional, existential mode) where we look to others to confirm who we are by similarities and differences:

The mirror stage is a phenomenon to which I assign a twofold value. In the first place, it has historical value as it marks a decisive turning-point in the mental development of the child. In the second place, it typifies an essential libidinal relationship with the body image.

Logical: we see those around us and by judgement and critique, come to better understand who do or do not want to be, what values we uphold and what is or isn’t important to us. We then present ourselves in a way to perpetuate this want of self-image: hip. Young. Intellectual. Passionate. Level-headed. Impulsive. etc.

So hip it hurts via latfh.com

The body and mind are never exclusive of each other. Think of the people who weren’t as fit when they’re young, and as soon as they lose the weight and gain the confidence, the endearing quality of their personalities fade into their past like their love for a super-sized number 6 combo meal with extra mayo. They begin to overcompensate for their past. Cue desperate narcissism, or sexual overload…

…Enter the libido. Is this the concentrated fulcrum that hinges our bodily and mental being? Where they collide and merge? To sign up for a gym membership and “earn sexy points” (courtesy of FB statuses) because without a kickin’ bod, your body is baggage. Your confidence plummets. You don’t get laid. You stay at home stuffing your face with poptarts and pie, crying into the crumbs. Sinking into reality television.

Modern day Narcissius: who is The Situation without his body and/or penis?

When women on the View or Oprah say “embrace your body, it’s unique, beautiful, etc.” to whom is it beautiful? People forget that these things are mere adjectives, not fact. That we are beautiful and ugly at the same time to different people is preposterously optimistic. When girls primp themselves and purse their lips in front of the mirror for hours until the party has already started, their mental health is reliant on hairspray. When guys pump in front of the mirror, their beauty is found in the form of their lift and their muscle capacity. If you’re hopelessly unsatisfied, you hint at it so friends can reassure you that you are, in fact, still beautiful as they are.

This inner-neurotic tension about self-image is a predominant display of narcissism: when people untag themselves on Facebook because they’re astonished to see themselves in terrible lighting, or when they refuse to take pictures at all unless they’re properly primped and posed. Because maybe someone they might like in the future will see the photo and reject them for everything they are. Because the narcissism and neurotic nature places them in their own mental spotlight, mistakenly assuming that the world is watching.

When people are freaked about Facebook or online information, its a similar sort of narcissism. Who’s gonna stalk me? Who’s gonna take my *Favorite Quotes* and sniff my essence out of them? Laughable, because: who cares? Out of the entire universe of online information and data online, who is going to pick out Nancy McMancy’s prom pictures and critique the binary code out of it?

UNLESS you're wearing this a;skljdf;ldskjf

On the other (of many) hand(s), I feel as if there is a positive to negative range of narcissism. Outward narcissism acknowledges the libidinal nature of self-image with self-confidence, or the relationship between mental and physical self. In moderation, the outward narcissism is healthy and positive– too much, and the person’s some gorgeous asshole with a rotten personality. The inward narcissism is the insecurity; the back-pedaling of progression towards strengthening a personality and being comfortable with your own skin; rejecting who you are because you’d rather be her, or him. If your goal is to look like Megan Fox (sans toe-thumbs), you’re going to feel shitty. It’s impossible, short of plastic surgery. Even then, there’s the trauma of connecting who you are with your “new image”. It would be like “Being John Malkovich”, where you aren’t living who you are, but you’re watching someone else live your decisions. Puppetry.

Today, looking at pictures of yourself is the new mirror. But so much more, because factors like: who you’re with, or who is taking the picture, or where you are, what you’re wearing, where you are, etc. are part of that reflection of “self”. Taking a look at profile pictures is fascinating, because it portrays how people would like to be seen, rather than whatever they’re tagged in. What they think they look the hottest in, or the coolest. What they agree to be tagged in, and who they agree to be identified with. What jives with their ideal libidinal nature. Think ghetto Myspace pics.

Getting a rise out of the hippest smokers via latfh.com

The key is moderate self-critique and praise. Easier said then done, of course, but if there are that many insecure, self-neurotic people in the world, it’s ironically reassuring. It means that no one really has the time and energy to worry about what you look like, or how flattering your hair part is, or even the shape of your thumbs, because they’re busy worrying about their own.

Which is sort of how I’ve grown more comfortably about asserting my own space through my blog. While most bloggers are viewed as self-righteous and presumptuous (crooning o readers, dear), those who critique it are still its readers. And that’s the point of writing, or sharing with the world your opinions, your endless essays on narcissism in order to reaffirm self-worth (ha. ha.): just to share. GPOYWs and personal drama-rama aside, blogging online is just an expression of existence. You don’t have to share any opinions or stories IRL either, but you do because it’s a form of social interaction. So there’s no point in being so self-conscious all the time: in fact, it makes it blatantly uninteresting. Some would describe it as a form of  mental masturbation: self-indulgence in neurotic self-worry. Which is why self-deprecation can cross the line into obnoxious attitude.

Be proud of your flaws, as writers, poets, artists, girls, and boys. Work them, because being normal and predictably sexy is not as near excitingly stimulating. Besides, out of the many unpredictably unique people in the world, someone will be turned on.

Graceee