Selena Gomez, Narcissism and the Cache of Life Stories

On Ash Wednesday, Jesus started following me on Twitter, which I took as a fortuitous coincidence. In that same post, I challenged Satan to follow me as well. What resulted from that? Well, now Selena Gomez is following me. I’m wondering if they’re one in the same person…?

Actually, Selena Gomez or @selenagomezbee as she’s known in Twitter-land, was my 1000th follower and the winner of my “Kilo Mark Blog Star Award” – thus the prolific presence in this blog post. The thing about @SelenaGomezBee, however, is that I have pestering doubts this is the real Selena Gomez.

Here’s the deal: @SelenaGomezBee is not the verified Twitter account of Selena Gomez. The verified one is @SelenaGomez. But @SelenaGomezBee insists she is the real Selena who has just started another Twitter account to get away from the scrutiny and craziness of super stardom. OK. Maybe that’s true. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I did ask her to somehow prove to me that she is the true Selena Gomez. Let’s see what she comes back with. If she convinces me, then I will proceed to badger her for an autograph and personal message to my daughter, a huge SG fan – exactly what she was trying to get away from.

Then I will ask her if she is the devil.

It must be quite a life to be Selena Gomez with the fame, the fortune, the adoring fans. I guess we are truly lucky to have intimate access to her deep and inspiring thoughts via Twitter. It reminds me of my ideas around “life stories”. In my most recent book, “I Write on Anything (Written on a Napkin)” – available in print and Kindle!! – I wrote an intro about Life Stories and my belief that everyone should write one for the sake of preserving one’s self for all time. This was before I started this blog. At the point I wrote the intro I was thinking that everyone should write and publish a journal; but I just didn’t realize that a Life Story is the same as a blog. Here’s what I wrote:


I’m so scared of dying. And it is my curse that I can’t rest until I get my thoughts on paper. I see a potential death almost everywhere I look these days – places I never would have thought of in times past. Like a broken neck in doing a flip. Like a flaming car crash in every tight turn. Like liver cancer with every drink. It is everywhere…lurking. You never know which dumb move you make will be your last – or what you’ll be wearing. And this fear is extended to my kids. I’m always saying, “don’t do anything careless” when they’re just going downstairs to play knee football. Shows like “1000 Ways to Die” don’t help either because it just shows how anything – anything – can kill you at any time.

At least I feel that with this book it would be OK to die now though. Because my Self has been represented. I could die and my stuff, my guts would be out there to the extent that someone could pick it up and know who I was. That is important to me for some reason. I’m terrified of dying and having my essence, my person – me – lost forever (is that a form of conceit or overconfidence in my abilities that I am more concerned in the loss of my output than me?) With this it is not lost. With my poetry it is not. With my music it is not. And this is important. It’s another reason why everyone should do what I’ve been dong since I was 10: documenting their own “life story”. There should be a central “Cache of Life Stories” where we could intimately and personally get to know anybody by reading their brain’s output throughout their lives. But to do this, there needs to be a commitment to pick up a pen at any moment to capture the thoughts before they disappear into the ether forever (I captured this thought in a coffee pantry). And I don’t mean tweeting your thoughts since this isn’t personal enough – although perhaps some day the thoughts could be captured and archived electronically through some interface directly with the brain. But I digress…

Everyone thinks there is too much information out there these days. Too many bits and bytes. I say there isn’t enough. It’s not about capacity. It’s about what we do with all of that capacity. It isn’t a problem that all this capacity exists – it’s potential. This “Self dumping” needs to be encouraged at very young ages. And once we do extract it, it must be catalogued. For if it only sits around in someone’s vault, in someone’s personal disaster recovery chamber, it is as good as not existing. Let it be active and available. Then, if a person dies, their essence does not. It also stays active and available. Then when our distant relatives want to learn who their ancestors were, it is at their fingertips – active and available…and not susceptible to destruction easily.

Those are my feelings at 5 am this black Friday morning as I cannot sleep. I don’t know why I can’t. Just awoke from one of my dreams in that paralyzed state, worrying: what if during one of these episodes I not only couldn’t move, but couldn’t breathe either. What if it lasted longer than I could? Death, that’s what. But as I said…now, that would be OK

You don’t know from what corner death will lurch out and pounce upon you. If your mind ejaculates frequently, the shock of loss might not be so tough for the loved ones…then maybe death wouldn’t be so bad because “you” weren’t completely lost…

So that’s what we’ve got with blogs, Twitter and Facebook. They aren’t just a way to feed the narcissism thriving within so many of us. They are ways to document and preserve our thoughts, minds, ideas – our self – in a way that has never existed before.


About Yorick von Fortinbras

YvF is a writer, musician that stays sane by being creative while navigating the demands of life, looking for those holes where a spark can get through.
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