"I'm looking at you, you're looking at him, he's looking at me.......

......somethings missing 'cause I don't understand where I fit in"
I am a creature of habit.
In fact, I am such a creature of habit that I have used that moniker as a Nom De Plume many times on various websites.
That's how habitual I am.
There are certain brands of things I always buy, certain sandwiches at Subway that I always order, certain ways I like to prepare for bed, certain websites I always read, and there's a certain way I like my clothes ironed and put away ( obviously if I had to do all the houseworky things I might need to become a little LESS certain, but that's one of the perks of living in Honkers, and I am certainly not about to rock that particular status quo).
I even have a certain syntax.
But before you rule me out as yet another middle aged, middle class boring titted nut bag I would just like to point out that none of this 'certainty' and 'habitual behaviour' in any way implies that I am unadventurous or stuck in the mud.
Trust me on this one, when the offer of something new and exciting- or just plain bizarre and dangerous- comes along, I am the first girl to be found swinging from a harness with little more than 5 well positioned apricots and a jar of honey for protection.
I have tried it, eaten it, swallowed it, used it, worn it, been there and done it, and will continue to do so until I am placed in a cage for my own protection.
True, for the last 4 clean years I have given up more bad habits than most people have in a lifetime, but it doesn't have to be illegal to be alluring.
I like to try new things, I just have a certain way of enjoying them.
And so I think what we are talking about here actually is Obsessive Behavior- or OB- which for the most part gets shockingly bad press, and yet for the most part, is what makes the money- and hence the world- go around.
Even as I write this, high in my cave above Gotham City, I can hear all my other OB friends tearing out their hair yelling "It's OCD Wendy you twat" but it's not.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is the chronic and heartbreaking mental illness that, according to the all knowing telly, affects millions of people in America alone.
These are the people who can not leave their houses until they have locked and re-locked the doors several times in a minute.They suffer- and I mean they truly suffer- from a condition that catastrophises their lives to such a degree that sometimes suicide seems a reasonable escape. OCD sufferers are compulsed to carry out certain ritualistic behavior in order to prevent perceived calamity and disaster.
This is not what we are naming here, we are talking about the girlfriend that you have who has her vitamins in alphabetical order in the kitchen, or the guy you know who gets his hair cut every 4th Wednesday, no matter what hell hole country he is visiting, because to break the habit would mean his hair may get messy, and he's just not that into mess.
It's normal obsessive behavior.
The kind OB that's friendly enough to take out and show each other at parties " I ONLY drink Martini's, and ONLY if they are made with XXX brand Vodka, and ONLY from a glass this size. I didn't think you would have the right size glass, so I brought one from home"
See, it's nutty, but it's publicly acceptable nutty.
And I think- I know- this is what I have.
My obsessions take on short,medium and long term forms.
There are some things I have been obsessed with for living memory- Prince Edward , now Duke of Wessex, don't ask me why it's not up for discussion, but from the age of about 8 it's always been him. ( Dear God, I can't believe I told you, I am actually weeping tears of shame).
In terms of medium length OB I would say Whales. When I am bored, or not bored, or just feeling compulsed to do it I will sit on you tube and watch whales swim,sing and move about. They fascinate me. They are so way big.
And short term can be something as simple as a new flavour of coffee at Starbucks, which I will discover and spend every waking minute thinking about for up to 3 weeks, then one day
BAM !!!!, the flavour sucks sh*t and I'm over it and onto the next thing.
Being fickle is as much a part of being obsessive as being obsessive is.
For the last couple of years, Facebook has been another one for me, to the point where people have made comments. " Oh you seem to always be posting something" Well, yes, I have an obsessive personality type, when I fall in love it's forever ( unless I get sick of you, then in 3 weeks BAM !!!! you are GONE buddy) but with Facebook I suspect, after this long together we are mated for life. Mind you, I did feel that way about Myspace for a while.....I must go over to his place and get my poetry back.
Obsessives are passionate, we are loyal, we have influence, and those of us who are early adopters are every marketing managers dream consumer.
Ask an OB about the gadget they just bought, then settle in for the afternoon, 'cause you ain't goin' nowhere.
It's not always easy being mildly mental.
We do have a tendency to complicate things for ourselves, and it is hard to explain to those other types of personalities exactly WHY we need to see Avitar 4 times in two weeks ( Are you fucking kidding me? Did you see how pretty it all was? Why would you NOT want to see it that often?).
There is sometimes a fear that we may get caught in a kind of a rut of our own making ( although I truly can listen to Mason William's Classical Gas continuously for a month and never hear it the same way twice).
And sometimes we need another OB type of person to shake it up a bit ( a BIG thank you to the OB matey who showed me where to buy that moisturiser super discounted, I now have enough to last me until the next ice age).
I live in a town of Crazies and Obsessives, and I wouldn't have it any other way. My community satisfies my total obsession with the human foible, observation of which is a powerful addiction.
Next to celebrities, real people are the most extraordinary creatures, and without access to such folly I would be forced to collect teaspoons, or tinker with ancient car parts or spot trains or rare birds.
People are my true obsession, and I have observed that whether they are perpetually pushing the edge of the envelope, taking on Big Brother, or making better men and women of themselves, the OB buds of mine find absolutely no shame in taking on a concept, idea or product and hammering the shit out of it in a methodical and habitual manner.
It's that dedication to certainty that lets the rest of the world relax in their beds knowing that out there somewhere, someone is thinking and thinking and thinking about how to make a better mousetrap.Or a better mouse.Or just thinking about mice, even the little not-very-good ones.
So I obsessively watch the obsessives, who watch each other and write about it. Which I write about.
It's a peculiar habit, but a relatively healthy one, when you consider the number of unhealthy obsessions out there, one of which I did hear of that involved a large married man, a fondue set, de-thorned roses and an unreasonably large quantity of Cod Liver Oil........
But that's for another time perhaps......