Every now and then I go through a period of Madonna-obsession. Really, I’m always in love with her but every now and then I’ll just watch all her videos in a row a few times in a couple of days and fall in love all over again. For some reason her Lucky Star video is one of my favourite videos of all time. It’s just such classic basic jazz. I should teach it to a beginner jazz class, except that teens these days probably don’t remember it or appreciate it the same way I do.

I searched Fab & Fabber to see if I’d already tagged something as being about Madonna, and nothing came up! Either I do a terrible job tagging, or I’ve been lying to you since I started this blog. I’m always obsessed with Madonna.

One thing I didn’t expect to see was Foucault’s Pendulum. When he first did the experiment, obviously it was dismantled once he had proved his point. It was redone years later to prove his point once again, but this experiment too was dismantled. Apparently they set up another one, not to prove anything but to leave a constant reminder of his work. This means I got to see Foucault’s Pendulum, which I didn’t know I could.

You see, OCD is a form of anxiety. Look at what it stands for: it is a disorder that makes one obsessively act on compulsions, over and over again. It manifests itself in little ways that allow the person to control their world to prevent anxiety/because of anxiety. I am twenty years old and I still can’t walk on a crack in the sidewalk with my heel without feeling a split second of absolute ire at myself for doing it. I keep numbers rounded; some numbers I like, while others I can’t stand (though it depends on the context sometimes). I always – and I do mean always – say “bread and butter” after walking on the other side of a post from someone I know, even though I’m not superstitious about it. I once spent a weekend doing almost nothing else but 7 (mostly unnecessary) rewrites of the same paper. I compulsively want to close things (I’ll pass you the ketchup after using it and re-closing it even though you’re about to use it) or turn things off (when I see that the N64 is still on, I have to stop myself from turning it off, because my roommate is probably saving a game).

When I do a repetitive task, whether I truly enjoy it or not, I have trouble stopping. For example: I love cleaning and have accidentally cleaned for half of a night, even though I had to get up at 6am the next day. On the other hand, I found a very simple but very repetitive online game, and I absolutely needed to prove that it was beatable past a certain level. Thank goodness my boyfriend was able to make me stop (I still don’t know if it’s beatable, and it still bothers me, but the addiction is gone). I played it until I needed eyedrops, until I saw the game when I closed my eyes, until I was still playing it in my head even when I was away from it. I love cleaning and have trouble stopping (even for food or sleep), and even though that game wasn’t very enjoyable, I could barely stop playing for work.

I’ve gotten my OCD under control, though. The things I’ve described above rarely interfere with my life. Sometimes it can even help with tasks, like writing  or proofreading essays – as long as I don’t let myself do 7 rewrites – especially since the first draft is written obsessively as it is.

It is interesting to me that OCD has become a mainstream term that people use almost as an excuse for things that don’t need excusing. You don’t hear people saying, “I have panic attacks” to explain a freak out, unless they actually do have them (and then you won’t hear them saying it very often because it’s not a widely accepted problem to have, nor is it well-understood by those who haven’t experienced it). OCD is just as irrational as every other type of anxiety, it just expresses itself in such an organized fashion that it appears rational to those who don’t have it, or so I gather, and they use it as an explanation of their actions.

Someone with OCD might change the sheets on their bed at the same time every week. Someone without OCD might do the same thing, but it wouldn’t physically bother them if they missed it. The first person does it because he has to, because he always has, because he needs to control things. Maybe someone once told him that it was the best time of the week to change sheets and he took it to heart and now he can’t stop. Rationally, he figures it’s the best time, so it should be done then, but irrationally he is compelled to do it then or else everything will be wrong in the world. The second person does it because it is a good idea to change your sheets every week; she likes to keep her house clean because it’s more sanitary that way. If she misses a day, it might bother her because it upsets the week’s schedule, but it’ll be smoothed over without a hitch and she won’t be nearly as bothered by it as the man with OCD.

What I am trying to say is that it bothers me when someone who does not have OCD does something that seems perfectly rational to me (or generally for me, hence the apology) and apologizes, explaining that they’re “really OCD about that sort of thing.” OCD doesn’t apply to everything in my life, but it’s not that selective. I’m not saying that I always know who does and who doesn’t have OCD, because you can’t always tell. I would probably do and say the same thing, though I work incredibly hard at not pulling my compulsive actions on others, unless they know me well. I am saying that you should be careful how you use the term. I always felt a little guilty using the term before I was properly diagnosed but it was a pretty easy diagnosis. Everyone has their little quirks, but the wonderfully lucky people with OCD have lots of them, and Heaven help the person who tries to get in the way of those ‘quirks.’

On the other hand, though, if OCD wasn’t such a mainstream term, I don’t think I would admit to having it as openly as I do. However, because it is so thrown around as a term, I find myself using it off-hand, and laughing off my ‘quirks’ with everyone else even though it bothers me. It’s hard to know what’s best for the term. It’s nice that there is some awareness, and I’m sure a lot of people have OCD and thus understand it, but as someone who has always had it, it’s hard to hear it used so off-handedly and so regularly.

OCD is about control. If you are being completely rational (it is unsanitary to do X, so you will fix it by doing Y even if I’m the one who did X), do it. Explain what you’re doing, but don’t tell me that you’re doing it obsessive-compulsively unless you are – and then I will gladly share funny OCD stories with you because I’ll know that you understand. It’s really nice to be able to share these experiences and frustrations with someone who actually understands them! So don’t be shy, but don’t misuse the term, either. I’m not expecting a change overnight, but I’d like to try to change the understanding of the term.

I finally asked what she did at the hospital, figuring she was a clerk, and completely naturally, we were in the basement.

“I have to be careful not to get eaten by the crocs,” she told me, and I realized that we were standing at the edge of a very small body of water that was full of crocodiles. I’m still not entirely sure what she did, but everything made sense while I slept.

They weren’t going to take me to Nova Scotia because I wasn’t admitted here. I wasn’t their responsibility. I found my parents and tried to explain through my outburst of tears, but nobody knew how I was going to get where I needed to be, and nobody ever said what was wrong with me.

I received the lyric sheet and made a strangled sound, trying not to protest too much before I actually heard the song. “Oh no,” I thought, “What have they done to Boston?”

Upon hearing the song, I’m still not quite sure what to think. Is it a good idea to parody songs and make them overtly Christian? I think the Sunday version of Rebecca Black’s Friday proved the opposite. Look it up at your own risk – I refuse to be responsible for your bad choices. I think this makes Christians seem silly. I’m already not a big fan of contemporary worship music (I also find that is makes Christians seem silly most of the time), so the fact that we can’t even write our own music makes it worse. But at the same time, they play the song well (though there’s a bit of power lacking in the vocalist but he hits the notes), and I naturally write parodies all the time, so who am I to judge? When I think of an idea for a parody, I have a lot of trouble stopping myself from writing it … so why not write a Christian parody of a perfectly good song?

I have no real opinion on the matter, to be honest. I can’t sort out exactly what I think.

I have discovered tumblr. What is more, I have fallen in love with tumblr. I have not abandoned you, though, do not fear! This blog is still going to serve most of the same functions that it has previously served. Tumblr will only be for quickly sharing things and reblogging things (if you don’t know what that is, check out tumblr). I don’t post much text to tumblr, but I will continue to do so on Fab and Fabber. I will also continue to post to my semi-fictional blog Letters to Elaine semi-regularly. I might try to make that a weekly thing for Elaine next year since she will be extra far away from me and I’ll miss her even more than this year. :(

Follow me on tumblr (link below)! And if you aren’t already on tumblr, know this: it has very quickly become my favourite website for sharing things. You should at least give it a try! It is ridiculously easy to use and lots of fun. It is blogging for non-bloggers and bloggers alike.

http://alittletinywit.tumblr.com/

Love,

Amy

Anyway, said Welsh boy found my video and asked to talk to me on msn to help him study for his test … I wasn’t much help, because I’m not a Greek Mythology or Theatre major, but it was really cool, I think. Ah, the power of youtube.

Everyone I’ve ever known lives inside my head. It’s not that I imagined them all, but that I keep copies of them up there. They give me advice, argue with me, and just generally keep me company. I’m pretty sure this does not make me insane – I’m like a computer that stores personalities and uses probability to determine reactions and phrasings.

Random thought: is it allowable to say, “It literally felt like …”? Often, “literally” is used for effect, as in “I want to literally cut your head off,” though it is overused in this fashion. Some people like to correct others on their use of “literal(ly)” by suggesting “figurative(ly)” to be the intended word. This is not usually accurate, however, because the whole point of using the word is to imply that you feel like actually physically doing said thing (or whatever the context may be). However, does it seem logical to say that one can literally feel a certain way? One could feel like literally doing something, but one cannot very often figuratively feel something (though there are exceptions, such as “feeling your pain” – but it would be impolite to remind “you” that it is only figurative). Further, when one says one “feels” a certain way or “feels like” doing something or “feels like” something happened, the word “feel” reminds us that whatever it is isn’t literal – or rather takes us a step away from the problem. An example of this would be: “I feel as though there is a weight on my chest.” There is no weight on my chest, but I feel as though there is one. If I tell you that I “literally feel” that way, my writing/wording has become redundant, because I do honestly feel that way (so one assumes).

Unless, maybe, I could figuratively feel that way – such as by imagining it? I am not sure it is possible.

What I am trying to say is that saying, “I literally feel” is not incorrect, but it is redundant as far as I can tell. One could say, “I feel like there is a literal weight on my chest” and also not be in the wrong – and in this case, “literal” succeeds at being used for effect because “I feel like” counteracts its potential for inaccuracy. Nobody can dispute the feelings of another person.