Who is the real Narcissist?

Diary Entry – 38

Who is the real Narcissist?

Not Me...

The word Narcissism has its origins in the Greek Mythology. There was a handsome hunter named Narcissus who fell in love with himself after seeing his reflection in the water. He loved himself so much that he couldn’t take his eyes of the reflection. He was so captivated that he died there looking at his own reflection. So who are the Narcissists of the modern world?

If you use twitter or facebook you would have met them. If you use twitter to follow some of the great people you look up to, you will often find yourself disappointed. You probably like them for some awesome dialogue they said in a movie or something great they said during a speech. A dialogue or a line which gives you goose bumps each time you hear it. You thought there was nobody greater than this guy and you wanted to be like him someday. When you first joined twitter and when you followed him, you expected him to display that same greatness in his tweets. Instead, what do you get?

“I love the smell of warm coffee on a Sunday morning...”

  

What makes them give such light headed confessions? Narcissism of course. Recently I saw a chain message being circulated among guys in their facebook wall. It was a message to curb a type of Narcissism which is so widespread among the female population.  

“4 out of every 5 girls' statuses (every now n then) read like:
awwww!!!♥ ♥ today had loaadsss of fun with nisha,isha, misha & gusha ♥♥...also stay at dundu's house wass awesumm...thnk u shoo muchh dundu :))) u r shoo shweet !! cant forget u guyyysss...:D :D and tuttuu ...will missh u shoo muchh :(( :(( ...hugss. ♥♥ !!
which is followed by (God knows for what) 35 likes and 142 comments!!! “

People who suffer from Narcissistic disorder reveal this kind of high levels of self focus and self importance. Some girls change their display picture every other day. They then text their friends and ask them to log in to facebook and like their new display picture. When a girl I know asked me to do it, I asked her why she was so desperate for my like in facebook. She said she was competing with her friend to see who got the most number of likes. So girls these days fight for likes the same way a politician does for the people’s votes. When a politician asks for votes it is called political campaigning. When a girl asks her friends for their likes, it is called Narcissism. If the handsome Greek Narcissus lived today, he wont be looking at his reflection in the river water. He will be typing status messages in facebook and asking people to like his display picture.

The most Narcissistic thing I did this year was changing my facebook display picture. The display picture I had before was the two hands holding a candle. It is the same display picture I use here in my blog and it is the same display I have had for the last five years. So changing my display picture and putting my own face in facebook was a big step for me. One hour and four likes later, I changed it back to my original picture. I was far too self conscious to put my face on display.

I was taking a closer look at my new facebook time line and I realized how boring my facebook time line was. I never put any real status messages like any of my other friends. My facebook timeline showed little about my history. The few status I did put, I deleted after a couple of days or a couple of hours. I realized I used facebook only to play poker and to promote my blog. Feel free to call me Narcissist but you should look at yourself before you call me that with the hopes of offending me especially if you are one of those chicks who puts display pictures and do a narcissistic campaign for likes.

So if you are wondering why in the world I named my blog Diary of the Narcissist, I have to tell you how I was inspired to write a blog to begin with. A guy in my facebook friends list was boasting that he got some thousand visitors for his blog in that month. I was amazed. I had no idea he was such a great blogger. I had to read some of his stuff. So I went to his blog to find the most boring piece of sh*t in the world. I thought if he can write such stuff and get away with it, I should write stuff too. His blog was about politics and sports. I could not write about such stuff because I barely read the news paper to develop an opinion about stuff like the lok pal. The only news paper I read is the New York Times. Though it might sound all fancy and hi fi, let me tell you it is more like a magazine and contains little latest headlines. So I couldn’t write about politics, sports, entertainment, business or social stuff. Not because I did not want to, but because I did not have any original thought in those areas. I decided I will write about the stuff that happens in my life and since I am focusing my blog on me, nothing can be more appropriate for a title than Diary of the Narcissist. At that time I thought nobody was so crazy enough to write blogs about their own lives. I wouldn’t be a Narcissist now had I known the number of people who wrote sad stories about their lives in such tragic ways that gives the reader suicidal tendencies. I guess it has ultimately served the purpose of giving me a unique identity as a blogger.

I was worried people will start thinking I have a personality disorder because of my blog title. But one gentleman gave such a fine review for my blog. He doesn’t know me but has got his review spot on. It has laid all my worries to rest about readers misjudging my personality. Check out the review he gave me by visiting Lucifer House Inc. He gives reviews for anybody who wants them (provided you satisfy certain conditions).

It is been six months since I started writing and I am celebrating my blogs half birthday today. I know nobody celebrates half birthdays but where is the originality if everybody celebrates their birthdays after a year? And what is so special about the birthday? I got a new custom URL for my blog - www.diaryofthenarcissist.com.

Previous post - The Torture called Waiting

The Torture called Waiting

 Diary Entry – 37

There are some people in my family who will spend their entire fortune to travel a few kilometers without any form of discomfort. I have made it my life's aim to show these people there are cheaper ways to travel, without losing out on comfort.

Travelling in an auto-rikshaw was once a luxury for the people in Chennai. Rickshaw guys were an association of crooks a few years ago. I still remember how the rickshaw guy cleverly ripped me off during my 6^th grade on a rainy day when I was late for school. He told me it was eighteen rupees to travel where I wanted to go. When I reached the place, I paid him twenty rupees and asked him to keep the two rupee change. He told me to pay up sixty more. He said we agreed on 80 rupees and I had heard it wrong as 18. The twenty rupees was all the money I had. Mom gives me that to buy samosas if I was hungry. She is sometimes worried I will die out of malnutrition. I was gracious enough to give him the two rupees as tips but that was not enough for him.

But things have changed since the time I was in 6^th grade. Autos (or share autos) have become a lot cheaper now. When I came back from hostel late one night, I hired an auto to go home. The guy dropped me off near my house and he asked me for only ten rupees. Five years ago, I would have paid two hundred to travel the same distance. I made a mental note not to travel by bus ever again when I had these super comfortable and super cheap rickshaws. I could not have been more mistaken about the comfort part. The first time was very late in the night and there were only two other passengers in the auto. The second time however was a nightmare. There were twenty two people in the auto. The drivers change the design of the vehicle to accommodate more passengers. The auto could accommodate only ten people even after all the modifications. But the driver was determined in taking more. He started the ignition only when one of the passengers yelled at the driver in crude Tamil, “There is no space you fool. If you want one more passenger, he has to park his ass on my face. You better start the auto now, I have waited long enough.”

The next day I took the bus. Once I got in the bus, the driver starts yelling ulla po pa, ulla po pa (go inside, go inside). I am pushed into the centre of the bus to realize I am surrounded by women. A LOT of women.  I was like the guy in the AXE effect ad, with females crushing me from all side, except it was not the Victoria secret models, which made things very unpleasant for me.  It was a bunch of old ladies and small school girls. When a chick is surrounded by a group of men, men have the decency to maintain a distance of one foot radius around them (except for gropers). But what do the women do when a guy is stuck in their midst? They squeeze his life out.

So that evening, I thought I will try out the last option for transportation – asking dad to pick me up. My dad shows up late for everything. It is sort of like his personality trait. So in the afternoon I tell him to come pick me up in the evening from the Tambaram station. He asked me to get down at the previous station which is called Sanitorium. He told me it will be easier for him to pick me up from there. Since my dad is no paragon of punctuality, I tell him I reached Sanitorium even before I board the train in Nungambakam which is 30Kms away. Every ten mins I call him up and yell at him telling him, I have been waiting for so long and he has not even got here. But I am still in the train.

When I finally reached Sanitorium, I expected him to wait there fuming. But my dad is nowhere in sight. I call him up the tenth time, the first time I am calling him up after actually reaching the station:

Me: ACHA. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I HAVE BEEN STANDING HERE FOR HALF AN HOUR.

Dad: I am on my way... *Phone Cut*

After 15 mins. I call again.

Me: If you can’t come, I can come to tambaram....

Dad: I am coming wait. *Phone Cut*

Me: .... and take a bus home.

   

30 mins later.

Dad: I am nearing the station now. Where are you standing?

Me: I am standing where you asked me to stand.

Dad: Where is that?

Me: Near the Sanitorium Subway.

Dad: WHAT? YOU TOLD ME YOU ARE IN TAMBARAM. I AM IN TAMBRAM STATION NOW.

Me: No I said I can come to tambaram if you can’t come.

Dad: I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO PLAY YOUR GAMES.

Me: Acha I have been calling you for the past one hour, telling you I am waiting in Sanitorium. I know you think I am gifted, but I have not been blessed with the power of teleportation to be here for one hour and then instantly appear ten kilometres away.

Dad: Wait I will come pick you up. *Phone Cut*

Me: Grrrrrrr

So I ended up waiting an extra half an hour for my dad to pick me up. Going in an over cramped share auto looked like travelling in a limousine now.

The discomfort of suffocation and lack of space is nothing compared to the torture of waiting.      

Previous Post - What are you?”, she asks

“What are you?”, she asks

Diary Entry – 36

When I was a kid, they told me I had a star when I was born. I felt quite special and thought I was meant to do great things because I was under the impression that the only other person who had a star during the time of birth was Jesus Christ. That is what happens to little kids who live in Christian colonies and who go to sing carols during Christmas.

Then one day one of my uncles killed himself. It was a very sad day for the family but his death helped me dispel the notions I was the next Jesus Christ. My grandfather comes next to me and tells me not to turn out like my uncle. Worried that my grandfather thinks I am mentally unstable, I ask why he thinks I will kill myself. For this he tells me that I share the same star as my now dead uncle. So much for starting my own religion.

In the stone ages, when there was no electricity, our ancestors used to stare at the starry sky instead of watch soap operas in the night. They noticed constellations and other celestial bodies and made them into zodiac signs. Women I newly meet keep asking me the question, “What are you?.” They are expecting me to answer with my zodiac sign. I have ended up losing my individuality because of my zodiac sign. Whenever I am talkative, they attribute me being chatty to me being a Gemini. When I am not being a conversationalist, they attribute my laconic nature also to me being Gemini. So when a girl asks me to tell me about myself, all I have to do is say I am Gemini. They will decide my character, personality, the compatibility I have with them and the possibility of me being their future partner.  

 

It would have been lot easier if they had a universal astrology sign. But your signs keep varying with the time zones. I am Gemini in the west, a goat in India and a sheep in China. The Chinese zodiac reading a girl gave me was especially crazy. She told me I was wise, gentle, and compassionate and I am compatible with Rabbits, Pigs, and Horses.

But there is nothing weirder than that concept of Gothra. When I was travelling alone, I happened to talk to this Brahmin guy who asked me what my Gothra was. I thought it was a new astro hokum invented in Tamil Nadu because I have never heard of it before. I conveniently tell him that I am from Kerala and there is nothing called Gothram in the place where I come from.  For this he tells me that every human in the world has it. When I ask him how to decide which Gothra I belong to, he told me that it was the name of the male ancestor from whom my people have descended in an unbroken male line. When I went home and asked dad what my ancestors name was, he told me something weird in Sanskrit which I have trouble remembering to this day. So I did a Google search on the list of Gotra names and picked the one I could easily remember. So when people ask me what my Gotra is these days, I tell them it is Kashyab. It is one of the Gotra names and it is also the name of my classmate, which makes it easy to remember. If you are Christian, I hope you won’t be asked this question. But if you are ever asked this question, you can always say Adam.

I have successfully memorized all my astrological details. If you live in India, remembering them is very much necessary because you will be questioned like an American immigration officer questioning a Cuban. I had to get my Letter of Recommendation from a professor in my university. Before he signed my LOR he asked me my sun sign and the name of the star I was born in. When I told him almost instantly, due to repetition, he looked up and pondered for a moment and did some calculations in the air with his hand. Then he said very good and signed my LOR. Never underestimate the need to remember your astrological signs. If you don’t know them, ask your parents today or search them in Google and pick one which you find most catchy and remember it.  

  

This reminds us of Sheldons dialogue on zodiacs. I recommend this video to all people who use zodiac signs to judge peoples personality.

 

Previous Post - I See Gay People

I See Gay People

Diary Entry - 35

Priyanka Kamnath asked me to write a guest post for her. I thought she was going to kill herself after she read this post. But she liked it and god bless her for that. Anyway the links in her post are dead and she refuses to update them for some reason. I think she stopped blogging. So I put the post here since it is after all something I wrote.This is also partly the reason why I don't write content for other people.

A few days ago, I wrote my last undergraduate exam. It was time to leave the hostel for good. I could not help but think how much I was going to miss some of the people in hostel. I thought I should give them the customary good bye hug before I leave. Then I realised how awkward over the years, hugging another guy had become. Guys today cannot give proper hugs to their male friends (note how the term boyfriends has been replaced by male friend so that you will not raise eyebrows). If in some situation they are compelled to hug another member of the male sex they reciprocate the hug like Sheldon Cooper. (For those who have no idea what I am talking about, watch the video down below. Even if you know what I am talking about, watch the video.)

Guess who is gay in real life? The guy who plays Sheldon Cooper

So men these days hug each other like Sheldon Cooper because they think hugging each other any other way will make them gay. In the process they end up looking gay even if they don’t have any homosexual tendencies. Men act this way because they are paranoid. If they think another guy is staring at them, it will take only minutes to think that it is a gay guy out to rape them. On the contrary, very few men worry about other people thinking they are gay. What they fear about the most is the idea of being molested by another man. Some smart people use this to their advantage. When there comes a guy they can’t stand, to get rid of him all they have to do is tell thim he looks sexy. The paranoia will drive him away and he will never bother them again.  
The downside to this is that it renders all forms of saying goodbyes to a friend impossible. Very soon even shaking hands is going to irk people and everybody is going to switch to our age old Indian Namaste. On the contrary women have no such paranoia about homosexuality. It is amazing how two straight women can call each other soul mates in public.

P.S – Just so that you don’t think I suffer from homophobia (fear of homosexuals), I would like to point out that I support lesbians. ;)

Previous Post - Men Flirt Women Gossip

Men Flirt Women Gossip

Diary Entry – 34

  

After a very long time I met two of my buddies Yoda and Stud.

Stud: Wassup dog? How many chicks have you managed to pick up in the past few years? (Tamil – Enna da naye? Ethana figureeh correct panne?)

This is the way buddies greet each other these days. They think that the general well being of a person depends on how many girls he has been with.

Me: Haha. You definitely have not changed much. How are things with you? Girls in your college chasing after you like always?

Stud: No man. The girls who I study with have a really weird taste in men. They are after this girly dude who looks and acts like a gay fashion designer.

At this point the wise Yoda steps in.

Yoda: I thought an alpha male like you would have punched his face by now.

Stud: Trust me, a lot of people in my college want to do that but we can’t. It will be like hitting a girl. It feels so very wrong. I have no idea why all the women flock around him.

Me: Maybe girls like him because he is a real charmer.

Stud: Charmer my foot. Dude I can probably flirt with chicks better than him.

Yoda: Girls flock around him because his area of interest matches with theirs. That is why they like him so much.

Stud: Area of interest? Dude some of the chicks are really stupid to discuss subject related stuff with him.

Yoda: I was not talking in an academic point of view you fool. I was talking generally. Like the general area of interest of most men being flirting.

Stud: Oh so what do you think is the area of interest of the females in my college?

Yoda: Gossiping

Stud: Gossip? How do you gossip macha?

Me: We are doing it right now.

Stud: Those chicks are all a bunch of aunties da. (Tamil - Ellam seri ah na mami macha.)

Yoda: Dude, you know what the girls are saying right now? They are calling us a bunch of flirts. (Tamil – Kadala Party)

Stud: What is wrong with being called a flirt? Is that not a compliment recognizing the efforts we put in?

Yoda: Well not exactly. Being called a flirt is like calling a woman a gossip monger.

Stud: That can’t be good.  

Yoda: It definitely is not.

Stud: So you are saying I should change my approach when it comes to women? Start gossiping instead of flirting?

Yoda:  I don’t think it will bring the effect you desire.

Stud: Why?

Yoda: Flirting is something you have been doing for years. Your current level of skill and knowledge can be compared to that of a bachelors’ student and before you get married you will have the skill of a masters’ student.

Stud: Okay?

Yoda: Just like how you have a bachelors degree in flirting. The chicks you seek to mesmerize have a similar degree in gossiping. But you my friend are still in high school when it comes to gossiping and the girls will be in preschool when it comes to flirting.

Stud: Why do you think they are in preschool?

Yoda: How many women have told you that they do not know how to flirt, as if it is something to be proud of?

Stud: Oh yeah. But I can work on my gossiping skills rite? Make it better to match their skill.

Yoda: Yeah go ahead and talk about us behind our back. It will make us very happy to have you as our friend.

Stud: Hmmm sorry.

Yoda: There is nothing you can do about it. When those chicks get married and have children their gossiping skills will have attained doctorate level and when they become grandmas they will probably win a noble prize if ever there was one for gossiping.

Me: Uh some people will call this stereotyping you know. :D

Yoda:  Oh I am not saying that all women are like that. There are exception to everything just as there are some women who are like angels from heaven with an exceptional talent when it comes to flirting.

Stud: Boy don’t we wish all women were like that :D

Yoda: If only we lived in a perfect world.

Stud: But dude if women like that get a PhD in gossiping by the time they have kids, wont we have a similar level of skill when it comes to flirting at that point of time?

Yoda: If you pursue your PhD after your marriage you will get something you don’t want for your degree certificate.

Stud: What is that?

 

Yoda: Divorce papers signed by your wife.

An apt reaction for this post would be:

If you are woman – “Men! They never change.”

If you are man – “Haha! That is so true.”

If you are a gay fashion designer – Say the same thing the women are saying :D


Previous Post - The Crooked Tooth