I’m just going to put this out there: I am not a megalomaniac. I am a slight insomniac, and truthfully a touch maniacal, which is maybe something to worry about, but I am not obsessed with myself. If there is a mirror in a room I am very likely to position myself so I do not see my reflection. I am not boastful, and I could, if forced, carry on a conversation about tuna with a toaster oven. I have other realms of interest and I engage in them frequently. Often, I can be found sleeping, or drinking or eating. The point is I do other things besides write about myself. It’s just that, when it comes to putting fingertips to keyboard and forcing myself to come up with something to say my go-to is always features me. Maybe I do it because no one else is going to, or it might happen showcase my lack of imagination. Perhaps, I am a narcissist or maybe my identity is the only thing I can claim, without a shadow of a doubt, sovereignty over. No one else is me, and as my second greatest fear is being unoriginal (my first is having sand between my toes) I have no concerns that my story has already been told. So, no, I am in no danger of drowning in a river because of my uncontrollable desire for my own reflection. The worst I could do is bore you. Which is perhaps a more terrifying fate.
I thought I should make this clear as I realized that I have never given an explanation. Being 100% honest I have to admit that I picked this title for my blog because I liked the sound of it and have never really given it much thought. Until now.