In Defense of the Selfie

about the selfie: really, i think selfies are only annoying because you don't like the person taking the selfie (or you don't like that THAT person is taking the selfie). for instance, if you're married, you might not like your spouse taking millions of selfies because you want them for yourself, but then you say you hate "selfies" when you don't really, because you don't mind so much when others do it.

i know some people probably get annoyed when i take pictures of my mug, but i also know that i find taking pictures of myself fun, and i wish i had lots of selfies of my parents when they were younger, but it wasn't a thing, so i have limited pictures of them in their teens, twenties, and thirties. my kids (i probably won't ever have kids) will have plenty of pictures of me to be amused by. i also know some people don't mind my selfies and might even like them (as hard as that might be to imagine).

some people annoy me (but i like them enough—or don't want to hurt their feelings—to keep them as facebook friends); i HATE when they take selfies, but sometimes that comes across as, "i hate selfies." i sure as hell don't hate selfies when my good friends take them to show off their new haircuts, beautiful scenery, their trip to the moon, cats, to show off their new boyfriend or girlfriend or both. and i actually LOVE selfies when beautiful girls take selfies (quantifier: beautiful girls that i don't severely dislike).


who (in general) doesn't like beautiful faces? everyone likes beautiful faces, and it doesn't necessarily have to be a sexual like of the selfie, but rather an aesthetically pleasing one.

right, so then there's those of you that supposedly hate the selfie because it is a representation of how self-absorbed our culture has become. the thing is that we have always been very self-absorbed. people generally buy "cool" shoes to... look cool (or to not look cool on purpose, so that they can be cool e.g. counter culture). we can keep going back in history and look at the things that people did that could have been seen as self-absorbed acts. whatever. granted, there are narcissistic people out there that go too far. it is not a virtuous trait, but i'm inclined to believe that we all have a little bit of that in us anyway. taking a selfie is not necessarily a self-absorbed act. taking selfies is not making our society any worse than it's always been; humans will always be terrible. we can't escape our physical world. taking selfies puts the focus on the person's face instead of their soul? you just don't like taking pictures or hate your face. get over it.

no, YOU  don't get to be the one that hates all selfies. i've seen you take selfies with your kids or after a comedy show making a stupid face and supposedly taking the selfie as an ironic statement; that is just to cover up the fact that you want to take a picture of yourself. don't be afraid. it's okay to have fun taking pictures ha ha.

i MIGHT grant that there are some out there that hate all selfies, but really those people hate everything... but let's face it, they're on facebook, so they're not THAT cool and if they wanna talk shit on selfies, they really have no place to do so; and they'd have to hate all photography too then.

let's make something clear here. taking pictures is fun. some people on facebook take lots of pictures of everything and a lot of pictures of themselves, because it's fun—not because they think they are god's gift to humanity. these people are genuine, fun loving people and photography has been fun since it first happened. those people shouldn't let anyone get them down or stop their fun. don't let people selfie-shame you! it's like those anti-cellphone people back in the day. they became cellphone owners. then they were anti-texting, then they became anti-myspace, then they became anti-facebook, and now they're anti-selfies. they always come around in the end. i like james franco because he unashamedly takes selfies, and you get the sense (if you follow him on facebook) that he does it for fun, or out of boredom, or to show off his friends or whatever. it's fun!

people have been taking pictures of themselves for a long time; now they just happen to be able to push the button themselves. there really isn't that much of a difference; people just want to bitch about something because of their own insecurities or to be hateful people or to make complaints about selfies when the real issue is that they don't like you or don't think that YOU should be taking selfies. yes, i know, this is a very important issue to be spending time arguing about. you're welcome.

i think it's healthy for people (that are not narcissistic) to enjoy their faces, to be proud of how they look, to have confidence. not everyone is going to like their mug, but some people will. it's a beautiful thing, why rain on their parade? just because they have ugly faces? fuck it.

it's worse to be a judgmental person in general (about selfies or whatever), than to be a serial selfie taker. people (in general?) are just trying to enjoy and get through life; we do what we can to distract us from the fact that all of this ends horribly. we die. everyone we know dies. it could all only end beautifully, if we all died at the same time and without knowing it. pictures bring joy. pictures bring joy. pictures bring joy. pictures bring joy. well... some of them do, but you know what i mean.

there is something curious about photographs. someone takes a selfie and we get to see their face and we just look at it like the monkeys that we are; and we enjoy the experience. "oh there's so-and-so's face. how interesting. i like to look at it. she's beautiful." or "i'm gonna take a picture of myself. oh it came out well. i like the look of my face. i'm going to put it on facebook. why? i don't know. i hope people like my face too and boost my confidence and ego, but not in a bad way." curious.

what i'm trying to say is that fun loving genuine people should keep having fun taking selfies of silly faces, hanging at the beach or some beautiful place, showing silly outfits or beautiful outfits on a fancy night out with friends. you know who you are.





who doesn't like esti ginzburg doing an in bed selfie? elevator selfie?

kissy face selfie? mascara selfie?

weird/silly face selfie? making her friend look bad selfie?

 innocent girl selfie? fun night selfie (but really a "geez i look really cute tonight selfie")?

on a boat selfie? booty shot/island/beautiful scenery/ocean selfie?

car selfie? another kissy face with minimal makeup selfie?

shades selfie? selfie that is so beautiful you forget who you are?

bikini, wet hair selfie? glasses and wine and friend selfie?

 "i love you, danny" selfie? "come lie down with me, danny" selfie?

cool selfie?  NO ONE.

that reminds me: some people really remind me how much i believe in and love god.

but... uh... what do i know? i'm just trying to get attention by writing something about selfies and enjoy pretty faces :)

let's give everyone the benefit of the doubt and try not to rain on people's genuine fun photo parades.

PS - if you're like REALLY ugly, don't take selfies. just kidding.

like i didn't just pose for a picture, tryna see how long my beard can grow, growing out my hair, took like ten photographs before deciding on this one, scrolling through all the filters and lighting options on instagram to get the "best" looking me possible, woke up at 1:30 AM and decided to write a very important blog on defending selfies selfie

But I Love You So Much: Who Am I? Madness.

"But... but... but I love you so much."

I cringed hard.  What the fuck could I say back to her?  There was that ever so familiar silence over the damned phone.  Fuck me this sucks.

Fuck it, I thought.

"Well, you won't love me so much very soon," I said.  Well that kind of felt good, I thought.

"You're an ASSHOLE!  You know that?  Why don't you love me back?  What's wrong with me?  I'm pretty, and I'm smart."

She sounded so desperate, and that made me kind of like her.  She was like a wounded little bird that you just want to take care of and love.

Silence.

"I never said I wasn't an asshole.  I'm sorry."

"Listen.  Listen for a second," her voice was kind of shaking.

I listened.

"Are you still there?"  Her voice was still shaking, and she might have been crying.  She was probably crying.  For sure she was crying.  She was probably crying.  I wondered if she was crying.

"Ya."

"Listen... just please... please love me back.  Please?  What can I do?  I'll do anything... you know there's always going to be other women, no matter who you're with... prettier women.  Why not me?  No one will ever love you like I love you.  I'll love you forever, Danny,"  The desperation was seeping through her voice, but toward the end there... there was some resignation.

"I'm sorry..." and, well, she hung up the damned phone just like that.

I put the phone down.  I took my stupid glasses off and rubbed my face hard with my palms, "Fuck me.  Fuck me for sure."  I glanced at my haggard face in a mirror.  I sat down somewhere.

I just sat there.

"Fuck man.  What a bitch."

A thought flashed into my head: I wondered if I would call her sometime in the near future.  As fast as that thought flashed into my head, it was gone, and I was thinking about something else.

A couple months later, she popped into my head.  One millisecond later, she popped out of my head.

Years later, she might have popped into my head, but I couldn't be sure.  How can one be sure about such things?

Some time later--probably years--I stared into my mirror (I had bought it with money earned, so it was mine).  I looked at my face.  I took off my glasses.  I rubbed my face hard, and it felt good.  I leaned closer into the mirror.  I admired my full head of hair.  I was thirty-five years old.  I was handsome, as I'd always be.

"Who am I?"

"Honey!  We have to go!  We're going to be late!"  My beautiful wife's breathtaking voice joyfully bounced off the tall walls of our massive and massively elegant mansion and reached and soothed and massaged my thirty-five year old ears.  Her face flashed in my mind--my wife's face that is.

Leaning closer to the mirror, "Who am I?"

She floated into our bright, fresh, airy room, like a good wind, "We're going to be late, and you're the guest of honor?"

"Showing up late is showing up early.  You know that," I smiled at her.

"Let's go," she kissed onto my lips.

"Let's stay here and have sex," I countered.

"After.  Let's do that after.  The limo is waiting, and the champagne is on ice," she was so happy, and she loved me perfectly and as much as is humanly possible (that is she loved me maximally), and my love for her was equal in measure.  This was the truth.  Let no man or woman doubt it.  We loved no others, as we loved each other, and we never would; and neither could we either; nor would we ever want to.  EVER.

"Okay, I'll be right down.  Wait for me in the car.  I'll lock up."

"Hurry," she hugged me hard and kissed my left cheek.  She floated away.  She looked perfect, as all heaven.  I waited until I bet myself that she was in the car.

I stared at the mirror, without expression on my face, "Who am I?"

 Madness.

 I knew she would always love me.