WRESTLING WITH YOUR EGO
“I tried to run away myself
To run away and wrestle with my ego” – Coyote by Joni Mitchell
“Why do we become actors?” asked Dustin Hoffman. He was sat across from Sir Laurence Olivier in a restaurant in New York. It was the late 70s and they were filming Marathon Man.
Olivier stood up, his hands becoming fists which he pressed into the table, and leaned slowly towards Dustin saying “Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.”
Whether that story is true or not, I just don’t know. I was too busy eating my egg-mayo filled vol-au-vents at the nearby table at the time. Those actor types just never did it for me. However, all these years later, I understand exactly what Olivier meant when he said that to The Hoff (let’s face it, before David Hasslehoff got hold of that moniker, it belonged to the great Dustin Hoffman – the original Hoff).
We all want to be looked at. We all want to be noticed. Some of us go about it in extreme ways. They turn into suicide bombers, serial killers, terrorists and, of course, actors. Others become chartered accountants. But we all want to be noticed. We all want to be looked at and acknowledged, every bloody day of our short futile lives.
Of course, most of us don’t have the courage to talk about this. Our ego. It’s not something that makes a particularly comfortable topic of conversation. You wouldn’t be in the pub with your mates, hand on the bar, foot on the foot-rest thingy, sipping your pint of Tennants Super, saying “So Jack, tell me about your ego?”
You wouldn’t would you. Primarily because Jack isn’t there. He’s just a figment of your imagination and you are actually mad. The bartender is now calling the police and, well, that’s a whole different story. But the ego isn’t a figment of our imagination. It’s a cold hard fact of our psyche. So Sigmund Freud would have us believe, though I guess it was really Eric Berne with his 1964 book Games People Play that really made the whole idea accessible and palatable to Joe Public, who incidentally, was Joe 90s younger brother.
Facebook of course is a wonderful outlet for the ego. I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook and have often deactivated my account, mostly because I become irritated by the inane garblings of other people on my wall. But then I reactivate my account because I miss people paying attention to the inane garblings I post on their wall. Incidentally, Word has flagged up ‘garbling’ as incorrect and has suggested ‘gandering’ instead. That’s a big no, Word, you errant, mischievous child of Satan’s knees.
So Facebook is an outlet for the ego. It’s great because it’s impossible for our ego to be bruised on Facebook, unless we allow it to be. We can remove comments or posts on our wall that we dislike, therefore projecting us as wise, benevolent beings, capable of great acts of kindness and narcissism. Our ego is us, we are our ego. Us our ego we is. It’s all the same.
Anyway, I started off this blog trying to make a serious academic point that may catch the eye of some eminent Oxford professor who would then contact me about some project he would like to collaborate on, thus elevating me to the high echelons of egotistical heaven.
That’s wishful thinking.
Or ego thinking.