So, the autism spectrum disorder that I have, non-verbal learning disorder, (it's like the charming cousin of asperger's), makes me get obsessions sometimes. It actually becomes difficult to think about other things. I had my first one starting in the 4th grade, revolving around The Beatles. That was probably the longest lasting one, at about 2 1/2 years. They usually last like maybe an average of six to nine months.
Here is a list of all the things I've been obsessed with over the years. Warning: this list is quite dorky. Remember that this has been going on for like 15 years so a lot of it is things that sound very stupid now, because I was obsessin' on 'em when I was like 14 or something. And even then, this isn't like a list of my favorite things ever. That's not how the obsessions work. It could be just a mild fascination and all of a sudden become overpowering. It seems to strike nearly at random sometimes. Anyway, here's the list:
uh... I don't have a picture of them. They were young and cute and out of control and punk and also not very nice. Here is an approximation of what they looked like
ha! that guy in front is from The Vines! do you even remember the Vines? I do, because I was loco about 'em. All these dudes.
Noel Fielding/The Mighty Boosh
Don't judge! I realize that a lot of these things are utter shit!
These are just the ones that got really bad (none that lasted for less than a month, those come and go daily). And it doesn't even count crushes, which sometimes become EXTREMELY obsessive for me and so overwhelming that I get anxiety attacks.
Now, when I say "obsession" I am being very, very, medical-definition-y literal. Liking one thing to the point of almost total exclusion of everything else. I isolate and consume. I talk different. I move different. I blow through tons of money on records, dvds, books, clothes, trinkets. During my Kurt Cobain period I bought nearly every record he ever recommended. Kurt Cobain was a record-recommendin' fool!
But right now, I am deep in the weeds of Noel Fielding, again. This one has reoccurred, (not that unusual), I had a bad case of it a little over a year ago. And now it's back and trying to kill me.
Don't know who Noel Fielding is? He's the pretty one on "The Mighty Boosh". Never seen "The Mighty Boosh"? Well you'd better get on that, you silly bitch. It's amazing.
Anyway, Noel Fielding is one of the stars and creators of The Boosh. He's, like, a psychedelic comedian. He's very very famous in England and a huge tabloid figure, on account of being a foolishly dressed, slutty, druggy, ultra-hipster from the future. I mean, that isn't even that cool of a description of a person. HE ISN'T EVEN THAT COOL! So why do I all of a sudden have the absolute need to marry him? Mysteries of science.
I spend my days watching Mighty Boosh, as well as his guest appearances on various British sitcoms, talk shows, stand-up shows, and quiz shows. He's got a regular hosting gig on this rock & roll quiz show now, called "Never Mind The Buzzcocks" so I have to watch all of that, too. And then of course I have to browse the internet and look at all his stupid, stupid outfits and think of ways I might copy them (my desire for silver Chelsea boots is becoming so strong it's making me sick). Oh, and I look for Boosh memorabilia, too. Thank god I haven't got any money.
Well, maybe it doesn't sound that bad to you, but it's actually quite scary because I am totally NOT in control of this shit. My mind is barely functioning. And these obsessions all branch out wildly, too. UK indie music, British candy (sweets!), and a very serious thoughts of moving to London abound. Can you imagine that? Moving to a foreign country just because you like one of their TV shows?
I need this shit to end. It's so unproductive and it makes me feel desperate and hopeless. And it's so trying to have to sit while your brain is telling you something that just clearly isn't true. I don't want to marry some pointy-faced, partied-out, social climber from Camden! Oh, but now I feel guilty for even having written that.
Alright, so, after today I am cutting myself off. No more high-concept comedy for you, young lady! I don't need to be all zonked out on Anglophilia when I get home (which is a tiny bit less than a week from right now, motha fuckaz!) I want to be with my friends! Not some dude who might as well be imaginary!
