[dropcap]M[/dropcap]ore than anything, my dog Ellie Mae wants my attention. She lives for it. If she’s not getting it, she’ll reorganize our waste basket with her teeth.
These days, everyone wants more attention. Not just dogs. Apparently, it’s a researched thing. One researcher calls it, “…the phenomenon of narcissistic-social-media infatuation.”
I found that quote on Twitter.
Before social media, we did without so much attention. No computers, no cellphones. We had rotary phones and Polaroid cameras. Our photo albums sat in the attic. No one ever saw our pictures. It’s a good thing too, because I looked like a fat goat in our photos.
Before Facebook, I had about ten close friends. Well, make that nine. I unfriended Skid Reynolds the day I saw him drop his pants down around his ankles just to use a urinal.
He wasn’t right.
Back then, when we wanted attention we entered the local talent show. Forget American Idol, we had the Methodist Review. My first year competing, I lost to Charlotte Clark, who played Old Rugged Cross on a Coke bottle with a spatula.
Another hotbed for attention was the DeSoto Explorer, our local newspaper. I submitted several stories hoping for my big break. The editor – also my Sunday school teacher – told me I should consider applying for a job at the fertilizer plant.
But those are the things we did before attention was only a mouse-click away. You had to chase the spotlight. Beg for it, like a dog. Even knock down the garbage can, and roll around in trash if need be.
Like Ellie does.