Fixated

I've always been proud of being freaking normal, like I'm thisclose to boring. I mean, I would like to believe I'm not manic-depressive, schizophrenic, or antisocial.

Perhaps I have bouts of the disorders I mentioned, like you know, one second I'd feel like I'm Jacqueline Jablonski and the next second I'm Tao Okamoto (that's my version of bi-polarity).

OK, OK, I have my delusions, but tell me, who is not delusional these days, aber?

One time my colleague recommended this quiz on Facebook to test if I have some sort of a psychological disorder. And gosh, I said if it is on Facebook it must be a valid uber scientific test! So off I took the quiz, which surprisingly had about thirty items instead of the usual five questions. I thought, hmmmm, this is more scientific than I initially thought.

Just as I expected, I fell under the boringly normal category, somewhere in the middle of some freaking spectrum... EXCEPT that I have a tendency to be obsessive-compulsive.

Gasp! Finally, I have a claim to some disorder after all! How exciting is that? I would've wanted something more romantic, like I don't know, depression or schizophrenia, which would lead me to do grand works of art or saintly deeds (hello, Joan of Arc?).

Anyway, I reckoned, obsessive-compulsive is not that bad. I can live with that. So I was prompted to do a mayjay self-reflection and soul-searching to see if indeed I have patterns of OCD.

I was doing this grand self-examination while brushing my teeth and intently looking at the timer to make sure I dedicate at least thirty seconds brushing the top of my left-side lower molars before I proceed to the right-side upper molars and so on.

Tanaaaah, epiphany galore!

I checked my toothbrush holder and I saw three toothbrushes that I use everyday. The softest toothbrush in the morning, the mid-soft toothbrush after lunch, and the hard bristles for the evening.

And then I continued further on my self-examination of my supposed OCD while I carefully floss my teeth, making sure I reached the tiniest gaps in my teeth, which was followed by cleaning my tongue with these tongue cleaner thingies, and eventually finishing the whole oral ceremony with exactly fifteen seconds of gargling mouthwash to make sure I have a totally clean mouth.

Wait... I do have to run my tongue around my teeth hoping I did not miss some bits, otherwise I have to brush my teeth even more.

This whole mouth-cleaning routine consumes about twenty minutes each night that God makes. Does that qualify for OCD?

OK, OK, I am quite concerned about having order in my immediate surroundings.

Like, in my bathroom, I make sure that all the bottles of shampoo, body wash, and facial wash have to be white. I do not base the choice of shampoo for instance on whether it gives me bouncy or shiny hair. Fuck that. I just need the freaking bottle to be white to match with the body wash.

And the books on my shelves. Oh my god, where do I start? I arrange them according to size. Nothing annoys me more than a book protruding from among its shelf-mates, in which case, I have to transfer it beside a book of its size. I don't care if the books are not arranged alphabetically or by topic, I just want them neatly standing according to height.

The thing is, I'm not exactly crazy about cleanliness. Like I don't mind dust so much (like I haven't swept my floor since Thaksin was ousted from power) as long as things look neat and in order. My mind could not just be put to rest if things are out of place.

However, the obsession for order does not cut across everything. Like my closet is one big mess (God bless my closet). It's just that I demand more from my books, CDs, and bathroom stuff.

Oh, I'm also constantly crazy about the flat iron. I always think that I forgot to unplug it.

Several times I'd already be at the bus stop and I'd run back to my building, scared out of my wits that my floor is in flames just because I did not unplug the flat iron (only to find out that I did, as always). Or I'd be inside the shower and from out of nowhere I'd panic at the thought that I left the flat iron on so I'd rush outside with just bubbles covering my nipples.

One last thing, I have this obsession with pencils, pens, and notebooks. I only use my Muji pen for my Muji notebook, which I bring with me all the time. I have a notebook and a corresponding pencil beside my bed just in case I need to list something (or someone's name... hihihihihi).

Meanwhile, I love pencils. Let me say that again... I LURV PENCILS. I steal pencils from hotels where I attend meetings... just because. I don't use them though coz I have specific requirements for the ones I use.

I swear by Staedtler 2H for the notepad beside my PC. Nothing else writes on that notepad, puhlease. And then I use a Staedtler 2B for my "work notebook" coz it writes in heavy black that matches my eyes.

Oh, nothing frustrates me more than un-sharpened pencils, BTW. Show me an un-sharpened pencil and I'd die in two seconds flat. At least now you know how to kill me.