I should have a warning label stuck to my forehead: CAUTION: HIGHLY ADDICTIVE PERSONALITY. I need a new addiction like I need a new appendix. Right now, though, I think that fact is my only saving grace. I have so many addictions, it’s impossible for any one to truly take over and ruin my life. Since I have to feed these daily addictions to reading, writing, cooking, listening to music, listening to audio books, blogging, and emailing, and I’m also someone who needs her sleep, meaning I’ve only got a good 16 or so hours a day, at least eight of which are taken up with work, my doses for each addiction are very small. Thus I haven’t yet become a total one-track loser, someone, say, who never showers or changes out of her pajamas and who has become completely antisocial, an embarrassment to Bob who won’t invite anyone over to the house anymore, and who is likely to lose her job soon, because all she does is sit amongst piles and piles of books, reading nonstop. I do run a bit of a risk due to the fact that I’m into combining doses, doing things like listening to audio books while cooking. And I’ve been known to listen to music while on the job, and yes, I do drive under the influence of music, as well as audio books. So far, though, I’ve been lucky, and none of this has killed me.
I will admit I had one addiction years ago that was quite scary. It distracted me from all my other addictions and was ruining my sleep. It was called Tetris. It was so bad that when my sister came to visit and hid the Gameboy, I developed a deep sympathy I never knew I could have for alcoholics whose family members dump their booze down the sink. I don’t know what happened. The Tetris addiction just went away of its own accord, before my friends and family members had to intervene and demand I start attending Computer Games Anonymous meetings, and I can now play Tetris in small doses without its being all-consuming. Still, I’m aware of what can happen, and I try not to add new temptations to my life on any sort of regular basis.
Thus I knew allowing my mouse to click on a link to this was a very bad idea. How dare that scruffy-looking link hang out on the outside of the chain link fence surrounding my email inbox and try to lure me into its world? I should have given him a piece of my mind and then hit "delete," but he was sweet-talking me and telling me how good it would make me feel. All I can say is he came along when I was in a weakened state; I’d been sick for a few days, and I was stressed out about getting all my work done before going on vacation. I wanted something that would help me feel good about myself. And, man, did it ever. Check this out:
Are You Normal?
Your Normalcy Quotient is: 40 out of 100.
Your quiz results make you a Marvelous Maverick
Giddy-up partner. You're a maverick and don't know what the definition of normal is. That's a-okay because you're now part of a fascinating group of desperadoes. Wherever you ride, it's sure to be off the beaten path because it's way more fun to find the path least traveled.
©2006 Chatterbean. All rights reserved. 4255 E. Charleston Blvd, Suite 186, Las Vegas, NV 89104
How could I not become addicted to something that with my first dose convinces me I’m a marvelous maverick? I’ve also learned I’d make a great food critic (a job I’ve always thought would be particularly fun) and that I’m not the life of the party, but rather the soul of the party, the one “always there for a witty insight or a sensitive thought…[not the one] dancing on the bar at Coyote Ugly, but…sure as heck [encouraging] others to do so...and then [giving] a brilliant commentary over brunch the next day.” Who wouldn’t want to be that person? Anyone want to invite me to a party, so I can show off my “soulfulness?”
But, I have to say, chatterbean.com isn’t really an addiction. It’s the antidote to my other addictions. The site must be visited on a daily basis to keep me convinced I need to socialize, so I can give all these wonderful traits of mine a place to shine, which will keep me from becoming that person who is just inches away from crossing the line to keep her home, unshowered and smelly, pajama-clad, nose in book, oblivious to the tower of books that's about to topple over and kill her.
Gotta run. That fascinating group of desperadoes has just shown up at my door for a morning ride.