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7:54 p.m. - December 10, 2002
Pee-dew and Poo-dew and TMI
Was thinking about my obsessive traits and their manifestations today. Not knowing clinical definitions of obsession or compulsions I'll refrain from feeling uneasy at writing about them, convincing myself that (a) I'm not the only person like this and (b) it's not obsession at all. Perhaps should consult dictionary about the differences between quirks and problems. A problem is an out-of-control quirk; but my quirks are controlled.

Example 1:

I was intrigued/bothered by the laugh tracks on Gilligan's Island and the Brady Bunch, not because of the tinny quality and predictability, but because there was more than one track used per show. Did you know this? I would listen carefully right up against the television and note differences; there were two: One arpeggio, the other drawn out. I timed them using a stopwatch. I compiled times into tables and identified them per episode and was able to predict which track would play in sequence: Gilligan's facial expressions (close up shot) elicited the arpeggios, chase scenes the second type. And no, the longer tracks were not doubled-arpeggios. They were different, using a crescendo.

A stupid kid not laughing at the antics of a stupid show but instead noticing the arcane and determined to figure out what it was that evoked interest. Obsessive? Probably not. But maybe, a little. The same compulsion manifested with cartoons, seeing the same background in chase scenes in cartoons, counting how many tan couches were under inky-black windows on either side of a brown door with slightly darker trim. And the Flintstones! I couldn't watch that cartoon (and still am averse) because of all the repetition. I wonder why.

Example 2:

This is intimate. And worries me. I make use of two separate bathrooms, one for each function. There's a pee toilet and a poo toilet, bottom line. I can't mix and match. To think of it, I have bathroom issues galore. Refuse to use a public restroom because they lack covers on the toilet seat, so when they are flushed a contaminated dew-cloud is released into the air, and secondly because I don't know who or how well the toilets are cleaned. Toilet-dew-clouds make me nervous. I shower in the pee-room because the thought of poo-dew escaping the down-lidded toilet and sprinkling towels gives me the willies (so no worries, ladies: I always lower the seat). Public restrooms are avoided at all cost unless there is absolutely no way around it, meaning there are no trees nearby or concealed enough; and don't even think about #2 in a public restroom. I can think of no greater horror. [When presented with lidless toilets and shared toilet seats in college, I found my own private bathroom in a separate building; I could trust it because I knew who cleaned it every other day and was certain nobody else used it. Always used the shower the farthest from the toilets. Unfortunately, I couldn't locate another shower more convenient.] In sum, I'm all for installing urinals in my home bathrooms. Of course, there is the issue of pee-dew, but this doesn't bother me.

Example 3:

I count words, both my own and the ones used by people with whom I'm speaking. Some inner increment machine kicks in and I count how often you say and or I say But, or I vary it and count how many words you've used in a sentence. I don't know of anybody else who does this. I've heard of a guy who counts letters in words but keeping a running tally of words used? [When Shannon told me about him, my first thought was relief: I'm not the only strange one.] If I'm having a conversation with you and I don't seem attentive, I'm probably reflecting on the sum of your words. It's a subconscious endeavor; I simply notice the toll and become distracted. Ideally, I'd reflect on the content rather than the form, but I suspect I have problems with this.

This is enough for tonight. Why do I do this, expose my secrets this way? Must be something about this act I don't realize.

One last half-example:

I have a large glass desk and I count the smudges or fingerprints on it. When there are more than 9, I have to Formula 409; do you know how often I wash this thing? I didn't take this into consideration when buying the desk. I wish I had.

::::::::::::::::::::

In other news (attempting recovery of face): I came home and simmering on the stove was homemade spaghetti sauce and French bread in the oven. Having a mother over to visit isn't as burdensome as it could be. Unfortunately, pasta frustrates me: It's always congealed and clumpy, so I avoid it. The sauce smells good though. Instead of lemon potpurri I could market this. People buy anything on Ebay, you know.

Other News 2:

My nose is bleeding again. Good thing I'm not a hypochondriac.

 

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