Julie Albertson, pain and misery junkie, posted a passage from this Jonathan Franzen essay that ran in the New York Times over the weekend. The part she chose is all about loving love whole self love loving do you read me Jack McCain love love me loving you love like love true self attention Jack McCain I love you love me yada yada yada.
Funny the bits that she didn’t mention, as pointed out by long-time lurker, first-time caller Miss Donkerstein:
But if you consider this in human terms, and you imagine a person defined by a desperation to be liked, what do you see? You see a person without integrity, without a center. In more pathological cases, you see a narcissist — a person who can’t tolerate the tarnishing of his or her self-image that not being liked represents, and who therefore either withdraws from human contact or goes to extreme, integrity-sacrificing lengths to be likable.
And this …
If you dedicate your existence to being likable, however, and if you adopt whatever cool persona is necessary to make it happen, it suggests that you’ve despaired of being loved for who you really are. And if you succeed in manipulating other people into liking you, it will be hard not to feel, at some level, contempt for those people, because they’ve fallen for your shtick.
Our lives look a lot more interesting when they’re filtered through the sexy Facebook interface. We star in our own movies, we photograph ourselves incessantly, we click the mouse and a machine confirms our sense of mastery.
And, since our technology is really just an extension of ourselves, we don’t have to have contempt for its manipulability in the way we might with actual people. It’s all one big endless loop. We like the mirror and the mirror likes us. To friend a person is merely to include the person in our private hall of flattering mirrors.
Oh Donk, you chanting, downward dog-doing toolbag. If you love this essay so much, love it in its entirety. Franzen has nailed one of the major reasons why you’re such a barking-mad misery addict. So put down The Road Less Travelled, cover up those feet, get to a cognitive therapist and figure out WHY. Why you sabotage yourself time and again with indiscreet Internet oversharing, why you feel the need to boast and brag about everything to online strangers and how you can end the addiction.
Which brings me to a blind item:
What nervous bride in an upcoming wedding has already had to assign someone to make sure a certain over-sharing douchebag doesn’t ruin the day’s events with relentless Tweets, photos, Vimeos, etc. The bride is secretly pissed that she even had to invite the nutbar, and so a Donkey-Minder has been assigned and is going to attempt to actually confiscate her camera and her phone on the day of the nuptials.