Obsession For Mrs. Jarcy

I've been reading a lot of depressing stuff in the paper lately. Usually I skim the paper--which means I read my horoscope and then MAYBE a few headlines--but I'm taking a writing class and we have to write jokes off the Chicago Tribune front page. Every day. And I'm sucking at this exercise or at least that's the mantra stuck on replay in my head. Oh, my poor head!

I always attribute obsessive qualities to my husband. Why? Well because he fully admits to having them. And now I see its also because focusing on his crazy behavior prevents me from exploring my own. They are, unfortunately, present and accounted for. This might also be why I can talk myself out of doing things that will be good for me like yoga or socializing with others. I get to a place where all I want to do is sleep or watch "Cold Case Files." It doesn't happen all the time, in fact, most would say I am very social and generally fun. But if I'm stuck in that place there is just NO escaping. Believe me, I have tried. Some folks are like, "Just give yourself a pep talk and you'll feel better."

Well guess what, I can't! It just doesn't work that way for me!! Telling me to just snap out of it is like telling a legless man to walk!!! Or a fish, go tell a fish to walk! FISH CAN'T WALK!

So yeah, I have a few obsessive qualities. Nothing that requires a meds script for the time being but definitely flaring up from the stress of attempting funny for this writing class. And perhaps the worst of it is that I have the ability to talk myself out of being funny. I can start with comedic gold and tinker and adjust so much that the joke ends with a thud. I can even come up with 5 thuds for 5 different jokes based off one news item. It is amazing how I do this. Tonight for class I read a monologue about immigration. My initial monologue was upbeat, carried away and filled with fun! Three days later I had completely adjusted it so it was the most serious and unfunny item one could hear. In fact, tears could have been generated from my monologue, that is how GOOD I was at making it unfunny. As I finished reading aloud I could feel the heaviness that lingered in the room and within myself so without thought I burst into maniacal cackling. They thought it was part of the monologue. And everyone laughed they're asses off. Or I scared the SHIT out of them and laughing with me was way better than glaring at me. Come to think of it, they could have just been laughing at how weird the laugh felt at the...

Ah, you see? Obsessive thoughts. The above paragraphs speak for themselves I think. This is what happens to Mrs. Jarcy. I pray reading some Harry Potter will help it all go away.