I’m completely willing to admit I suffer from OCD.  Ask my friends and family.  They can tell you it’s true.  Depending on their powers of observation, some of them likely can provide very specific and repetitive examples.  Hey, I’m not proud.  I can admit my faults.

Just the other day as we were talking about my recent sewage incident (re: this and this), I was telling Rick about how I’d cleaned the bathroom with bleach several times, with Lysol several times, with Pine-Sol several times, and I had every confidence I planned to introduce it yet again to my friend Clorox.  I even said I wasn’t sure I’d let The Kids go in there as I wasn’t satisfied it was acceptable or reasonable to do so.  I definitively added I would never move their food and water in there again, something I’d also recently mentioned to Jenny and reiterated to xocobra.  Mental spillage about sterilizing the whole apartment aside, Rick promptly interrupted me to let me know my actions were quite reasonable for a man with OCD.  He added I had no reason whatsoever to question the undeniable impulses I was having with regards to cleanliness.

In fact, I remember immediately thinking about Howard Hughes and his depiction in The Aviator and found camaraderie in those memories.  I’ll caveat that by saying I do not obsessively wash my hands, but I do wash them at appropriate times.  Like everyone else, and especially those with OCD, I do have my obsessions — and that irrespective of the sudden intent never to find the bathroom acceptable for The Kids outside of brief and infrequent visits.

I assure you they won’t be going in there unless I’m in there.  It won’t be left open anymore.  That’s it.  There’s no discussion because it’s non-negotiable.  Biohazard douching will not change my mind.

Yet I have some other habits representative of OCD.  I’m not sure I’ve talked about these here, and I know I’ve not talked about some of them with many of the people around me.  I suppose there’s no better time than the present for full disclosure, although I can’t for the life of me think of a reason why that must be true.

Find below another entry in the “jason is a loon” file.  This one is a cursory examination of my OCD habits.  Well, at least some of them.  And partially cursory, in an OCD kind of way.

Math: I’m a math nut.  Independent of what’s going on around me, although sometimes fueled by that stimuli, I’m always doing some bizarre math thing in my head.  If I’m listening to or reading language, I inevitably am counting words and letters.  More often than not, I’m conducting some bizarre mathematical calculation related to the text in question.  It is a mental search for logical patterns.  Failing that, it becomes a desperate quest for numerical evenness.  This habit permeates all of my memories.  I admit only under duress that at least a few people have seen the ‘voluntary involuntary’ hand movements that sometimes occur as a result of this, tiny gestures so small as to be unnoticeable that represent more complex functions requiring bandwidth my brain can not provide at that very moment.  Numbers truly occupy my thoughts.

Ant Dancing: Do you know what the pee pee dance is?  I’m sure you do, and I’m also quite sure you’ve done it at least once or twice in your lifetime.  While I’ve not engaged in the anti-urinative version since I was a child (although an older child than I’ll admit here), I do my own version of that dance when standing somewhere I know to be supportive of ants.  Jenny certainly has caught me doing this more than once and called my attention to it, after which I promptly explained what I was doing and why I was doing it.  I’m terrified of ants.  Mom saw what they can do to me physically, and my reaction has only worsened since that unbearable episode more than two decades ago.  For that reason, I abhor the thought of a single ant crawling upon me anywhere.  The threat of a sting and subsequent hospitalization is more than overwhelming.  It doesn’t take much more than one sting to kill me if not treated quickly.  You can see why I would do my best to keep them from coming into contact with my skin, and that is the foundation upon which the Ant Dance is built.  There’s no crotch grabbing or anguished facial distortions or exaggerated movements involved, much unlike the real pee pee dance, but there is the perpetual, subdued walking in place that often leads to distrustful glances and the quiet whispering about how strange I am, not to mention the occasional offer of directions to the nearest restroom.

Strategic Commas: I am quite fond of the strategic comma.  It is a forced pause where one is appropriate yet not required.  For instance, take this sentence from a short story I’m working on:

They had lived in this house for fifteen years, an abode in the middle of a forested nowhere in East Texas that was home to a great many creatures aside from humans, so the children were more than accustomed to wildlife encroaching on the family homestead giving fright to people and pets alike.

It’s quite forgiving in its flow, is it not?  And it’s a perfectly legitimate sentence that is grammatically correct.  For each comma, you pause briefly enough to lend strength to the structure, and from that flows the true meaning of the sentence.  But given two strategic commas, here’s the sentence again with a forced interpretation on my own emphasis:

They had lived in this house for fifteen years, an abode in the middle of a forested nowhere in East Texas that was home to a great many creatures, aside from humans, so the children were more than accustomed to wildlife encroaching on the family homestead, giving fright to people and pets alike.

Do you see the difference?  More importantly, do you hear it in your head as you read it, finding the pauses and lending them credence?  Your interpretation of my meaning and inflection more accurately echoes my own with the strategic commas intact, yet it’s not impossible to find the same flow without them.  Those who fully appreciate the English language might possibly have read the sentence exactly the same both times.  I simply prefer to work harder at writing the way it needs to sound rather than what is expeditiously appropriate.  Some would consider this comma overuse.  Some might even be correct about that.

Verbosity: I like using more words than are necessary.  At least I use them correctly.  Mostly.

Lexical Dexterity: Have I ever written or said something that made you wonder — if not look up in a dictionary — what a particular word meant, or possibly how a word was appropriate given the context?  I have a vast and growing vocabulary.  I always have.  I read the whole dictionary at least once every two or three years.  I also subscribe to several “word of the day” lists and work hard to use each new word at least once on the day it arrives (many I already know, in which case I don’t try as hard).  As I’ve said before, I try diligently to exercise my language skills as often as possible so that I might continue to enjoy the fruit of my linguistic labor.  There are more than a few who think I intentionally utilize less pedestrian semantics for no other purpose than to make myself feel superior to others as I bask in the glow of the happily received looks of amazement and confusion that often flow from my verbal repertoire.  I won’t deny that that sometimes plays a part, but I’ll happily add I’m more likely exercising my mind.  While it’s not always about me, likewise it’s not always about others.

This also plays a part in my ability to shift within a diverse portfolio of expressive forms.  In the most casual of settings, I slouch into heavy contraction, slang, and dialect use.  On the other hand, I’m equally capable of speaking and writing with a level of intellectual expertise that undoubtedly clashes with my social station.

Learning: I can’t stop.  I do it and do it and do it, and I never feel satisfied or sated.  Science books, math books, educational television, skepticism-inducing radio, and anything else that challenges my mind is welcomed heartily.  I never want to stop learning.  There can be no doubt I sometimes let this get in the way of other activities that perchance are more important.

Information Awareness: I want to know everything about everything that’s happening.  I try yet fail to make that a reality.  Absorption of data in all forms drives me.  And drives me crazy.

Culture: When I eat Chinese or Japanese food, I want to use chopsticks.  I prefer to drink appropriate beverages when eating non-American food.  I generally do not like American beers and tend toward those of more obscure roots.  My overall preferences for alcohol are less common and more unusual.  I don’t like pizza from places that deliver and instead think the best to be had is the small restaurant and bar called Louie’s.  I listen to a wide variety of music, not all of which is American — or in English, assuming there are words.  The list goes on.  I’m particular when it comes to having a clue about such things, but, then again, even I know this to be a gay trait and not usual for most men.  It’s like testosterone kills brain cells…

Writing: Need I say more?  A collection of work that spans more than three decades should indicate something in this regard.

Living: I know for a fact that far too many people deny themselves even the simplest of escapes.  You don’t have to be a gang banger or loser or ‘that kind of person’ to find nature and intelligence offer you opportunities to step outside the box on a regular basis.  It’s up to you whether you take advantage of sensible chances.  What’s the threat if you do?  The same as the threat if you don’t: death.  If the end is the same in both cases, why spend so much time being overly careful and boring?  I’m not advocating mass murder or anything quite that atrocious.  I am advocating risk and chance, and not being such prudes when it comes to experiences.

Science: This is quite obvious if you’ve looked at my blog links recently.  Most of them are science related.  There’s a tremendous amount of power that comes from understanding the universe around us, or at least trying to understand it.

Nature: I’m increasingly obsessive about nature in general, whether it’s observing wildlife or general conservation or standing up for animals who don’t appear to have any advocates among humans.  I realize some people haven’t noticed this yet, but this is the only planet we have and it’s full of the only life we know.  Consuming it like mindless vacuums and abusing it as though it belongs to us accomplish little outside of damaging our global home and endangering the ecosystem upon which we rely for our very lives.  Remember, once we kill it, it’s gone, and by that, I mean species, habitats, climate, and everything else on this little blue dot floating in a sea of stars.  I’m more and more amazed at how few people really stop to appreciate all of it, and by appreciate I don’t just mean oohing and aahing at it from behind the lens of a camera; I mean appreciating it enough to act in its best interest.  Whether it’s conserving water and electricity, using less gasoline, or rescuing animals, not to mention a plethora of other activities, everyone can make a difference if they would only try.

Books: I collect books as though Fahrenheit 451 presented a bleak reality of the near future (which, if religious zealotry has its way, could well be true).  I own hundreds of books.  Many hundreds of them, in fact.  I love to read.  It’s that simple.  Why I don’t borrow from the library or sell them when I’m done is a good question.  I do both those things from time to time but not often.  Usually, I prefer to buy and keep the books I read because it’s likely I will return to them later to reference them or read them again.  My dream is eventually to have a house with a library in it to hold my growing collection.

The Kids: This should be the most obvious OCD representation in my life.  They are my children and I will do anything to protect and care for them.  I would starve myself if it were the only way to provide for them.  I would sacrifice my own safety if there were no other way to ensure theirs.  I would not hesitate to act on their behalf in whatever manner was necessary under any given circumstances, and that includes the use of violence to protect them.

Now, having completely embarrassed and exposed myself on the intarweb, I will close with a final thought to somehow get back to my original point.

The Kids are not regaining free access to the bathroom.