Meet Me, The Narcissist
According to the Webster’s definition, I don’t think I’m a narcissist. I’m full of more self-loathing and honesty than I am any exaggerations of my self-importance. I mean, I want to be important. Of course, I want to matter to people and the world. I wouldn’t be opposed to breaking the internet with news of my demise, should that day come. But I don’t think I have an excessive admiration or infatuation with myself. I do think I have value and talent and other things that make prevent me from being a total waste of flesh and drain on society, but those feelings are tempered. But I do hold grudges and I wanted to dig a little deeper into this
And here’s where I’ve landed. I’m a hypocrite.
If you ever want the Ellis Island experience circa 1907, swing into the Chicago City Clerk’s office in Portage Park. The number of different accents is loads of fun and reminds you of the shared American Experience, which is that city bureaucracy is no fun for any of us.