I usually enjoy my obsessions at the beginning. I get a buzz, a charge, a constant little trill of energy and inspiration. I plan, scheme, research, ponder, and think, think, think. I love rolling the obsession around and around in my head like polishing a stone. I want to see it from every possible angle in every gradation of light and mood.
My favorite obsessions are those that have multiple connections to other obsessions and interests and extra bonus points if it involves information gathering and sorting. Lists are like really good foreplay. I love mapping out all the intersections and possibilities for future trips or nostalgic reflections.
Sometimes my obsessions are brief - I simply MUST have one of those incredibly awesome Dr. Who plushies with the 3-D glasses RIGHT NOW! The obsession lasts until the aquisition and then it subsides.
Other obsessions develop into passions which can continue for years or a lifetime. My love of fiber art started as an incredibly intense obsession. Passions are much more manageable than obsessions. Passions are like floating a deep river with a strong current. Obsessions are diving over a waterfall in a barrel.
My obsessions can be general - a genre, theme, philosophy or idea or more specific - a place, a book, a TV show, a band, or a person. When I become obsessive about a person, I tend to be oversharing and overbearing (which is probably worth a whole other post). I want to draw that person into all of my obsessions, passions, and personality quirks. I am always seeking the connections, intersections and points of synchronicity between us. I always struggle to reign myself in so I don't overwhelm people.
When deep in the throes of a new obsession, everyday life starts to seem a little surreal. I often feel like I am just an actor in a play of my life. I go through the motions of communicating and interacting but in my head I am riding the obsession rollercoaster. I feel oddly elated and guilty, excited and ashamed. I tend to get overly charming and attentive to assuage the guilt for sneaking about and not really being present.
Of course I want to talk about the obsession. I want to talk and talk and never stop. I long to wax rhapsodic and poetic, to write odes and love songs, to create a dramatic documentary or shocking piece of performance art. Everyone should share in my obsession! Look how shiny and perfect it is!
Paradoxically, I also want to keep it a secret - to just ride the rollercoaster down, down, down into the deep and dark where there is only the endless contemplation and fixation.
And that's where the obsession starts to show its dark side. It loses the initial thrill and becomes a compulsion. Like any quality drug, I build up a tolerance and I have to consume more and more to get a buzz. Eventually, the side effects can become so irritating that I have to quit cold turkey and suffer through the withdrawal.
In between obsessions, life seems flat. I miss the thrill. The start of an obsession is like the beginning of a love affair - so many juicy details yet to discover. But like any really exciting and surprising lover, you cannot seek them out. You must wait for that serendipitous encounter where you lock eyes across the room, the butterflies start fluttering in the pit of your stomach and you simply know that you must learn everything there is to know about them RIGHT NOW.
