These Pictures of You Me

The arms-length photoshoot. You know you do it. Anyone with a digital camera inevitably succumbs. Somewhere on you computer is that file labeled "Moi", flowing over with vanity or self conciousness or both.
Some will line their LJs and blogs with narsassistic splendor. Others might slip one or two onto the sidelines, an icon or link in a post. The worst probably hide it all. An encrypted file called "YrsX34ht3.blt" in the depths of computerland.
I'm somewhere in the middle. Most everyone knows I take self portraits ad nauseam, but I don't like using them as wallpaper.

I'm not really sure why I'm thinking about it right now. It's just that sometimes I wonder, why the facination? An easy answer would be that we are constantly trying to capture evidence. The occasional shot that might prove to yourself that, "hey, I can be pretty!" or "Look at how edgy I am" or any one of a thousand adjectives whose discovery we hope will solidify our belief in ourselves. As if the twenty thousandth picture of you looking coyly through your hair at the camera will finally convince the world that "maybe she is worth it."

-- G 'Bye, Sonya --

. ( 13.1.05 ) .