Okay, I am trying to post once a day now. I spent most of today in bed. Why did I do such a thing? Well, that’s because of a little unhealthy hobby I have. Those who know me closely know that I obsess. I don’t mean the, “OOOH! He’s hot I’m gonna watch every movie he’s in and listen to all of his albums!” Mind you, I do watch and listen and all that, but I tend to take it a step further. I steep myself in everything having to do with the person until burnout commences. I write stories and fantasize about them. I imagine crazy scenarios where I am 200 lbs thinner and rich enough to warrant the person’s attention. Crazy stuff. How does this explain my sleeping in today? It is because I have nobody to obsess over. I can’t sleep without stories running like movies in my head. Considering I was reliving embarrassing moments the night before, I think I need to find something to obsess over…and soon…before I start throwing sharp objects.
What’s so weird was I had almost convinced myself in high school that I would meet Duran Duran. That they would see me out in the nosebleed seats and bring me and my friends backstage. I had almost had myself convinced that they could FEEL me. That phase lasted a while. Every so often, I hear “Ordinary World” and remember the stories and antics that had come out of all of that.
A few years ago, the obsession was a little closer to home. It was actually about someone I knew. I had actually succeeded in convincing myself that this guy had a special connection with me and that he felt it as strongly as I did. I have had real-person crushes before that bordered on obsession, but this one I was actually convinced had felt the same. Now that I look back, I realize that he was just using me for an ego-stroke. I mean, who really wants a 350 lb. married woman obsessing over them?
So, I was lying in bed, trying to come up with someone to obsess over, and I realized the futility of it. I mean, this happens every once in a while: Reality sets in and I realize I will never have the impossibilities I imagine. That often leads to an onset of depression and anxiety that drives Hubby nuts. Eventually, I realize my need to obsess for my mental health and someone will catch my eye, and the cycle will start anew. So, until then, I will spend many hours trying to sleep, and not succeeding…
Wow.
Is this subject really blog-worthy? Hubby was just reading over my shoulder and he said to me, “Are you putting this in your blog?” NO shit, Sherlock. I am writing aimlessly about my inner brain for my own amusement. When I bugged him asking why he asked, he tells me that it’s not something HE would tell anyone he doesn’t know. DUDE. The whole point I started this thing was to show people just how weird I really am. I mean, I have talked about poisoning myself when I was 4, endlessly making Jilly run in fear from me when we were little, and an embarrassing kiss that still haunts me…
(On a side note….it must not have been too bad because…well, I remember making out with each of them later on…separately, of course, though….I can’t be THAT lucky! LOL)
I write about everything. I am an open book, with the exception that I am not allowed to Hubby-bash (per his request.)
Hey, Hubby!
BONK!
You have been bashed.
1 comment:
your blogs are hilarious, you keep writing them and we will keep reading them, and i still remember that kissing day too!!!!!!
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