I've decided I need an obsession. These days you're hardly living unless you're obsessed with something. I realized this while watching a show on the TV called “Totally Obsessed.” There was a pudgy little woman who was discussing her obsession with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. For those of you who are too young or too old to remember, the Turtles were basically like crack for pre-teen boys. I remember owning the toys and comics, watching the cartoons and movies, treasuring the trading cards, the party accessories. I loved those sassy heroes in a half-shell.
But I had nothing on this lady. More than ten years after the Turtles' slow demise in popularity, this woman still continues to structure her life around them. She spends her free time wearing authentic turtle outfits from the movies, acquired at great expense. “This is my real skin,” she said, her voice muffled behind a rubber Michelangelo head. Minimum wage worker by day, Ninja Turtle by night, this 30-something woman does not slack in her dedication. She has racked up enormous debts to buy the original outfits and weapons. She lives on a diet mostly of pizza with bizarre topping ideas she got from cartoon show. She spent hundreds of dollars taking karate lessons which she demonstrated on her brother in full costume for the camera. Sadly, after dodging a few of her weak punches, he pushed her onto the ground where she remained, breathing hard. So much for the karate.
Perhaps the most revealing moment was when she quoted a few lines about “believing in yourself” from a Turtles On Ice production--clichéd advice they likely ripped off from a Hallmark card. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she melodically recited the lines, her face thick with intensity. This woman really was totally and pathetically obsessed.
Isn't it great? This is why I need an obsession. I've gone over some potential things I could be obsessed with but nothing seems to cut it. I'm pretty devout in my religion, but I'd hardly call it an obsession; I leave that to those who participate in pioneer reenactment treks or attend seminars on food storage. I'm a huge fan of Bjork, but despite owning all her albums, attending concerts and having painted her portrait in oils, I still pale in comparison to my old friend Luis, whose love for Bjork is all consuming. (I kid, Luis, but you ARE pretty into her). True there have been brief stints with Mr. Potatohead dolls, furry rodents, and herbal tea but none really qualify for a true obsession.
I suppose all I have left to be obsessed with is…coke. No, not the soda and no, not the narcotic. The baked coal. Yes, without coke how could we get our furnaces hot enough to smelt ore into the iron we so desperately need for steel? Eureka, I've found it! Coke it is.