Little obsessions

What? You've never had them?

So... what makes me weird?
Well, if you're out there on the streets, and we meet, I'll probably look at you. In your eyes. For color? Nay. I like faces... and I love to feel. Faces are the parts of the human body that make me feel most. And, since I'm straight, it works better with girls' faces.

I've listened to two of the Pussycat Dolls' songs today - "Beep", and "Don't cha". There's something funny in them, and something true. In a way, the best way to put this is in Bloodhoung Gang lyrics - "we are nothing but mammals". And, we have to admit that, in a sense, a part of us always desires things that seem strange to the other part. In support of this statement (ooooh, look how fancy I argue) I quote Kierkegaard (funny how every time I feel like writing something, there's a "coincidence" in what I've read to quote from): "Generally speaking, the imperfection in everything human is that its aspirations are achieved only by way of their opposites. I shall not discuss the variety of formations, which can give a psychologist plenty to do (the melancholy have the best sense of the comic, the most opulent often the best sense of the rustic, the dissolute often the best sense of the morel, the doubter often the best sense of the religious), but merely call to mind that it is through sin that one gains a first glimpse of salvation." - No comment. Author: Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or (chapter "Diapsalmata")

Don't we wish, somehow, that the childhood obsessions about stuff... the impression of the first child we've "made friends" with, or the first peck-kiss, or the first look of a girl/boy, or the first time you combed/brushed your hair. Oh gee! How can you not desire a glimpse of childhood heaven back? Wouldn't you like someone to lift you off your feet, over and over again? We're all lucky if we find that someone - and we probably should hold on tight. The warmth of another, and the memory of that warmth, means more and more, brings you closer to that glimpse of heaven...

I don't know, I'm kinda the company-type, I need someone by my side, with whom to share my feelings. I have people, and I have words. I feel it gives my life a meaning - to be able to feel the way I can/cannot dream of, and have someone else with me to prove it. Maybe, somehow, by myself I'm not sure that the truth is ... real. It's like two truths are better than one.

Yes. Kierkegaard again, same work: "The most beautiful time is the first period of falling in love, when, from every encounter, every glance, one fetches home something new to rejoice over."
I have a quote in one of the polls - it says "To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven" - Karen Sunde
(picture on the left from here)

And again, Kierkegaard: "I have, I believe, the courage to doubt everything; I have, I believe, the courage to fight against everything; but I do not have the courage to acknowledge anything, the courage to possess, to own, anything. Most people complain that the world is so prosaic that things do not go in life as in the novel, where opportunity is always favorable. I complain that in life it is not as in the novel, where one has hardheaded fathers and nisses and trolls to battle, and enchanted princesses to free. What are all such adversaries together compared with the pale, bloodless, tenacious-of-life nocturnal forms with which I battle and to which I myself give life and existence." Indeed, IF ONLY we could imagine the real world!

But, say that we could. Wouldn't it be impossible for things to be as we desire? I think so. We are merely NOT FACING THE WORLD. And, under the pressure of everyday life, I don't blame you. But we have to try, again and again... ah, life is so unfair.

(picture from here)

We are strange. Watch Ally McBeal. Think of democracy - it's stupid. It's false for you, whoever you are; but at least it's true for the rest. Another way to say this is ... everyone in power claims it is democracy, everyone undermined claims it is not.

We should know we have strange desires. Read Freud, kiss a tree, watch a raindrop fall, run naked through your house, stare at yourself in the mirror, be surprised by how/who you are, break a glass, jump through fire, open your eyes underwater even if they hurt, rock yourself until you're deaf, make a hat out of a watermelon. What? What? WHAAAT? Maybe I haven't said enough, but you get the point. And if I would have gone on, I probably could say now: "I'm sure there's one thing in this list that you did or thought about doing" - because we are weird! We have to accept that.
I mean, of course, we should also get acquainted with our weird desires, so that we know what to expect, or what to warn others to expect :D. But... part of being is accepting. Or at least understanding... We might all differ at some points, but we are human beings. And, to some extent, we shouldn't be ashamed or trying to hide our ... secrets, from everyone, all the time. Be they fetishes, phobias, or any other kind of obsession... we all have some, one way or the other. And the stressing life we lead helps them increase in number and intensity... we want relief, peace... happiness, each of us in a personal form.

(picture from here)

This excerpt is from my Engl1A course, a free writing based on a single word ("WITNESS"):
"I'm reading a book now, it's called 'London transports', written by Maeve Binchy. I've read another one of hers before, but this one's different. A collection of little stories, all with no real connection to one another, except London. Now, what does this have to do with witness? Well, I always feel like one when I'm reading this book. Every 10-or-so page story has a mind and soul of its own, and makes me think about me, and the characters, and how the reader is a witness to those. I wonder if one day I'll be able to write a short story like that, that'll make other people feel like short-time witnesses of my world. I think a lot about writing, and I witness it in every book. I've started to write because of... well, guess? I guess it's why most people start writing anyhow: it's because I couldn't handle the pressure of my own thoughts. I had to let them out, and after I did, it felt so great that I wanted to do it again. Now, I don't know if I am to become a writer, but I had a revelation about how wonderful it could be, a few years ago. It's really strange, cause I'm a science freak, and a computer one, but I love it more than anything else. Except people."

And this is another one, based on the "KNOWLEDGE":
Sides of truth. One way to think of knowledge is so sad, it makes knowing something not worth it: the more you know, the more you realize there's much more to know. Kind of like climbing a mountain, the higher you are, the smaller you feel, and the more you see...
Another way to think about it is feeling. You can feel knowledge, just because it is comprised of "the outside", and it can be words, images, sounds ... sculptures? No matter, knowledge is felt, and some say the best way to know and learn is to give everything special meaning.
There's a quote on knowledge, by H.R. Pagels: "What we want is knowledge, but what we get is information". This just means that people wish knowledge wasn't so meaningful, in a way." (in another way...)

Okay. Since God's (or whoever/whatever's, as you wish to believe) powers of time are greater than my own, I shall approach the end of what I thought would be a long consistent confession...

... Who/What do you think of before you go to bed?