There was a story on "Today" this morning, about a new service that allows you to pay, $250 for a half hour, for your own personal paparazi to follow you, take pictures of you, and then put them in a fake tabloid. Okay, no big surprise that anyone can look at this and see people who want things to be all about them so badly and want to live the lives of other people so much that they're actually willing to pay for something like this. And $250 for thirty minutes, no less. Where I live, in 30 minutes, I guess the paparazi could get some good shots of me driving in my car, 'cause that's about standard travel time to anywhere I'd be going on a Friday night. Again, this is obvious narcissim, easy to spot and easy to laugh at and condemn. But what about the subtle forms of narcissim that we commit everyday. A little bit harder to spot, and much easier to justify and play off. Is it just habit not to turn on your blinker when you're changing lanes, or do you just really not give a crap about the people behind you who have no idea what you're doing? (After all, you don't know them, and they'll adjust, right?)
Here's the thing: I love myself. . . a lot. I spend most of my day, whethere I'm aware of it or not, working hard to make sure that Jason is happy, Jason is satisfied, Jason is not put out in any way, by anyone. I want people to cater to me. I want people to notice me. And, so it doesn't seem too great a leap in my mind to simply pay a couple of guys to follow me around a take pictures. Sure, it might seem strange at first, but my guess is I'd get used to it quicker than I'd like to admit, and actually enjoy it a whole lot more than I should. And there should be no smiles in that picture.