Portrait of The Artist

The task of writing about oneself is quite a precarious situation to be in.  Lots of uncertainties exist as to how one should go about portraying one’s self.  Should you extol all your virtues arousing your inner narcissist and invoke the envy of even the least suspecting of individuals?  Should one’s tone radiate a self-effacing demeanor that diminishes them indiscriminately into the vast sea of humanity?  Even if the most unbiased of people were to write about themselves, how would one know if their perspective is not merely their disillusioned reality?  The concept of the self has been subject to countless metaphysical inquests since man’s realization of existence.  Some ideologies have gone as far as denying a self.   The blatant rejection of oneself as an individual entity would in itself impede the undertaking of a memoir.

Considering that they do have a concrete identity of themselves, what then would distinguish them from everyone else?   Does it therefore entail that in order for one to know about themselves one must also know about everyone else?  This can be a great quandary for an individual as one must hope that their interpretation of themselves and of everyone else in relation to them is faithful to the true reality.   Thus, being impartial and neither accepting nor rejecting the concept of self, I can assert and find befitting to state:  My name is Mouniér Naseer and I am.