My Little Obsessions
So, I am pretty bad about getting obsessed with things for a short time and within a week, being over them. This is super unhelpful and annoying but it happens almost every time. I have an easy knitting box in my closet from when I tried to learn how to knit. I’m still on section 1 of my learning Japanese book. I cross-stitched for 2 days before putting it away. There are countless unfinished stories bouncing around in my head or haphazardly written in random notebooks stashed around my room. The list goes on and on. However, sometimes I get obsessed with things I can do nothing about, like changing history: mine specifically. I usually obsess about that anywhere from a few hours to a few days. Here’s an example:
I just thought about how dirty my Economic professor’s whiteboard was and it triggered a memory from fourth grade. Back then, it used to be an honor to be one of the two students selected to take the old bucket down to the teacher’s bathroom and fill it with water so the two of you could clean the chalkboard. It meant the teacher trusted you and you got to get out of your busy work. I’d only ever been picked once and I vaguely remember one of my popular classmates being chosen as my partner. Even though I’d been picked during a time when busy work wasn’t assigned and, therefore; it wasn’t as satisfying, I still enjoyed being chosen to get out of class. I remember being so shy, and I doubt my partner and I uttered more than what was necessary to each other due to us being in different social groups. Which of course, brought me to the realization that present day me has grown so much from past me. I used to be so shy and disconnected with my classmates. I didn’t really talk with a lot of people outside my few (like, two) friends and the teachers (I was a teacher’s pet). I mean, it wasn’t always my choice to be so socially awkward. Sometimes I just didn’t feel like talking, but other times I wanted in on some form of the popularity. Whether it be that I’m in the know of most topics, or maybe even more than two people telling me good morning when I walked into the classroom (one of them being the teacher, of course). I only really started coming out of my shell my senior year of high school. I mean, I kind of had to- not that I was ever upset about that- considering the 60-something of us had to work together to create an awesome homecoming! Which I recently learned isn’t what most schools do. Apparently, it’s more of a southern thing to have the seniors create skits from old songs instead of just having a regular dance like most schools. Anyway, a part of me wants to go back in time and become this free spirited person who makes plenty of friends, but I know I couldn’t really do that. I mean, not because time travel doesn’t exist- or, at least, I can’t do it- but because what if my four most important friends wouldn’t be my friends in that timeline? Four doesn’t seem like a lot, but I’ve never been that close with a lot of people. I trust them and I don’t mind that we aren’t a big group. At least I know who I can count on.
There, my friends are a valid point and now I can put this weird obsession to bed, hopefully. I need to do my homework. I wish I could be obsessed about doing that.