When I was twelve I was obsessed with Boy George. I mean, OBSESSED. This was no ordinary pop star crush, this was crazy. I literally could not stop thinking or talking about him, and I would write his name on practically every piece of stationery I owned. Nothing was safe. Luckily my music tastes changed and got more alternative as I got older and I’ll always be a Goth girl at heart.
In recent times my obsessions have been a little more abstract. Earlier this year I became obsessed with the London Underground. Having always been a little bit nervous to use it, I decided it would be a challenge for me to overcome my fears and make a journey by tube. How hard could it be? As long as I was prepared in advance and I knew exactly which line I had to be on, and I knew that I could access the stations without having to use escalators I would be fine. I downloaded an app with lots of useful information about the stations and I planned lots of imaginary journeys, to see how easy or difficult they would be.
I spent hours every evening doing this over a period of several weeks. I even watched videos on YouTube of people going from one underground station to another (yes, it’s a thing).
When I went to London in April this year I decided to travel from Paddington to Kings Cross by tube. A journey that I had previously done by taxi or bus, and which had taken forever. I was amazed at how quick and easy the journey was, and because I’d overcome a personal fear I felt pretty damn good.
Some of my obsessions have been a little ‘darker’. A couple of years ago I was completely obsessed with everything to do with prison. I wrote several thousand words of a story which I became completely absorbed by. I believed in the characters and I could even see it being made into a film, I thought it was that good. I’ve no idea how good it is now as I deleted the whole lot once I got over that obsession. Looking back now I can see that it was a distraction from some stuff that was going on in our family and how unhappy I was in my job at the time. Ironically thinking about prison was my means of escape.