I have an addictive personality. I’m not psychotic, nor am I nose-to-mirror every night before I stare blankly at a fuzzy TV screen talking about the different people from space that talk to me through it, but I find that when I like something, I tend to like it. This is something I do not find to be an issue. It must be the positive person in me, but I find it to be charming. I have the ability to adore many things at once, equally. Much like I play the same one song over and over until I am able to correct the singer in their lyrical mishaps, I also tend to overshare intimate details of my personal life via Twitter, and am not shy to overload my Facebook with what could be rounded to roughly 3,000 photos. I have found that there are always new things to love and new things to enjoy, yet the old ones still remain just as prevalent in my life as the new - with the exception of the travesty that is MySpace. I find new ways of entertaining myself through my free-time-filled days that tend to be as empty as a 20-something’s halloween candy bucket.

I have recently been on a health binge. I swap cookies for spinach salads and chips for carrots. I have been happily prancing down the aisles of Fresh & Easy looking for the next deliciously packed box of mixed fruit that I can have for dessert, passing the cake mixes and IV’s of lard - though the latter of the choices seems to be less seen at Fresh & Easy these days. I eat what I buy, and if I buy bags of carrots and green beans, I will be able to see to the Moon when I’m 80 and have enough fiber in me to clean out a Trichotillomaniac’s shower drain. This, to me, is a positive. I love the feeling of carrying around less and less weight in the places I feel I can see it. I love to have the occasional deep fried chicken and fries, but for the most part I find that cooking my own meals and creating new recipes is really quite adventurous and fulfilling - something like the Indiana Jones of heathy eating, minus the monotone outfit and testosterone.

I am painfully, almost harmfully addicted to my cell phone. It connects me to the world. I tweet feverishly, so much that it must be making birds jealous. I am an active supporter of adding “Facebooking” to Websters as a legitimate verb. I think it spawns from the childhood I had as an only child. I was raised in my room, never with an imaginary friend, but always with the things around me as my friends. I loved being transported to places just by looking at something. I could turn my driveway into a rollercoaster with the addition of a skateboard that I only ever used to sit on and peddle with my hands - the Flintstones could only be so jealous. I was also that annoying child that would procrastinate his homework by doing a dance show on his front lawn for all the Cul de Sac to see. I have always needed to be connected with the people in my life because I never really had them growing up. I am really just making up for lost time and my friends are filling in for my metaphorical siblings - something I will continually appreciate and abuse.

I love seeing the world and have been so fortunate because I have seen more of the world than many people see in a lifetime. I love to go to new places and explore countries and environments that are different than my own. Nothing makes you see your own world more than leaving it. I tend to hop the pond as often as possible because it feels like a breath of fresh air. The plethora of reasons I have for leaving the country all boil down to one emotion: Happiness. There is no real explanation to the feeling I get from having authentic French cheese over French conversation or tea and crumpets before a trip down to Parliament. Seeing so much culture is more than addicting, it is lifechanging. I can’t help but want to continually see more and more, which tends to burn a hole in my pocket that a 747 could fit through, but thankfully I have a seat booked on that flight.

I am addicted to things that often come with scrutiny. Health food is taunted due to its inability to totally regain interest over McNuggets and Diet Coke. The connection to the outside world is questioned due to it’s technical means, though I do come in contact with humans when my battery is low. I find that there is nothing more I can do than live my life under what scrutiny it may or may not encounter, and no matter how insignificant the scrutiny may be, it all spawns from a place that I have never dared to enter: the negative.

My addictions are my own. I love them dearly, tuck them in before I go to bed, and never suppress them with medications or stabilizers. I let them flourish in my happy world of Will & Grace reruns and European getaways. Something tells me this is a set of addictions that will be with me for a long time - or at least until I figure out something else to tweet about.

x.