Why I am a narcissist (or not)

This may seem random, but hear me out:

I have a friend-- his name is Jared, most of you don't know him, but he's a great guy in an awesome band-- who once asked me why I choose to only write about myself. This is a question that has been posed to me on many occasions-- by friends, professors, people on my blog who are tired of hearing my every pissant thought.

The main reason for this is not, in actuality, narcissism-- it is because I am the only living person on the planet that I can write about without fear of backlash, or getting things wrong. I will not, for instance, refuse to speak to myself at Thanksgiving if I choose to reveal that I once sort of went to the bathroom in the back of a friend's car, nor will I freak out if I say that my favorite food is sloppy joes, when it is actually astronaut ice cream (both excellent fare, in my opinion).

I realize that, one day, I will have to write about other people if I really want to be successful; after all, David Sedaris wouldn't have gotten all that far without the Rooster, or Hugh, or the Incomplete Quad. But this prospect seriously scares the crap out of me, mainly because one day, when I was in Advanced Reporting in college, I got yelled at for about an hour by a woman I had apparently misquoted in an article I wrote for the school paper (even though I sort of had what she said on cassette tape, and specifically asked if we were on the record), and I really, really, really hate being yelled at.

But in the meantime, I think I'll stick to writing about myself. I may be my own worst critic, but at least I can't sue me. I don't think.