Okay, so I recently did the 25 facebook things. I'm not sure if you'll ever forgive me, but Claire Suddath of Time certainly won't. In her scathing backlash against the 125 billion-odd facts people have composed, she says, "But it's just so stupid. Most people aren't funny, they aren't insightful, and they share way too much."
Wait a second. Let's have a reality check. Me and my friends really are funny, insightful, and . . . well, we do share way too much. To Claire Suddath: get better friends.
I enjoyed seeing the things people shared. Some people confessed strange secrets or bizarre hobbies. Others related their lives' defining events. One of my friends shared about her childhood adventures with a rubber chicken. I enjoyed learning all that crap about you guys. Knowing you better has been a pleasure.
If Ms. Suddath thought writing 25 random things about me was a narcissistic thing for me to do, she'd certainly be appalled by the sixty other posts I've written all about moi. After getting "Welcome to Dallas"ed about twelve times yesterday, I can't help but say something like "Welcome to the Internet" to point out that if this is the first time our Time writer has become aware of the mass narcissism that is the blogosphere, it must be her first time on the social end of the web.
In reality—which may or may not exist in the physical world, and definitely does not exist on the internet—the web is not being abused for narcissism. It is narcissism. It has birthed a nation of folks like me who just can't get enough of talking about themselves all freaking day long. And we like it.