When I write, I am – it has to be said – an egotist.
It’s all about me. Me. Me. Me me me.
You don’t get a look in. Not really.
And if you do it’s only as a mental aside, a construct that I formulate to pander to my already inflated ego. I imagine you being entertained by my witterings. Rolling on the floor, guffawing out loud – ROLFing. Wiping an amused tear from your envious, admiring eye.
Occasionally, of course, I may write about other people, refer to the existence of others and how their existence has impinged on my own. As you know, I have to be careful about such subject matter now. Loose lips has created blips on the ol’ work ethic. Data protection. People’s right to privacy over my right to express a personal opinion. Etc. Etc.
And it has chafed.
It has constrained.
And I’ve felt a little muzzled.
But that’s OK. I can sneak a tooth or two around the leathery confines now and then. I can still savage an ankle or three when the mood takes me.
But the thought occurred to me this morning that this conflict arose from a basic difference in perception. See, I’m writing this ‘ere blog thinking that it’s all about me and my life and my ego but actually...
Actually... there are some people out there who perceive the written and spoken word as a mirror.
They hold it up to their eyes and see themselves applying their make-up, titivating their hair and squeezing a few of their blackheads.
Suddenly, I’ve been elbowed out of the way! Never mind that I’m trying to shave and wax my pits... no, suddenly I‘ve got some other person’s mush and ego jostling mine for the exfoliating cream!
Some other person thinking that all this is about them them them!
Well, excuse me for breathing!
Now shut up and pass the toothpaste – you need it a lot more than I do.
But joking aside, it’s interesting isn’t it? I mean, I lay claim to creative copyright where this blog is concerned.
But do I have a right to that? Do I really? Is it really all mine? Or is it yours too, you who read here and insert yourself emotionally into the body of my work (oo-er)?
And if you choose to read my blog and stand right in front of me as I do my blogging thing, isn’t some of the stuff here your fault too?
Is this some kind of weird partnership?
Are we married?
Do I even know you?
What the hell are you doing in my bathroom anyway?!
Just who is that looking back at me from the depths of the mirror?