Obsessive, Anal, or Perfectionist?

When I have my mind set on something, I have to do it until I’m satisified with the results. For example, I had recently been introduced to this game called gridlock. It was a pretty stupid game, but for some odd reason, I couldn’t really stop playing. I guess it is because I knew that there are only so many levels in the game, so I had to play it until I beat it, through and through. Eventually, I did. However, it didn’t provide me with the satisfaction I wanted, because it didn’t have an ending. Instead, it was a bug in the game—it showed the next level, but with nothing in it.

There are many instances when I just become so obsessed with a certain task that I cannot stop. Eric can testify to this. For many of the games where there are training modes and extra games that one can complete, I am often sucked into this vortex where I must play it and beat it until there is really nothing else to beat. It usually happens for a day or two, and I’m back to normal.

This doesn’t apply only to games, by the way. I’ve often obsessed over many trifle things, such as re-designing my web site, or creating a certain feature for this blog, or reading web-comics. Maybe it’s something to do with computers and such. I don’t know.

Maybe this is how it feels like to be addicted to gambling, now that I think about it. Having the need to win, to complete some project, constantly feeling that I’m so close to my goal. Except, in gambling, there is no end, whereas I can just complete whatever I needed to complete and get on with my life, marvelling at my own abilities.

This obsessiveness comes and goes. Going cold-turkey usually does it for me, to cure it. Well, I usually get some help by way of a distraction, such as school-work, or just being pulled away from it physically (for instance going home for the weekend).

This obsessiveness is very helpful, in my opinion, when it comes to my programs. I usually don’t let them rest until I honestly cannot see how to improve upon it any more. This leads to programs that usually net me lots of points. Whereas many others might just say, “Eh, it works,” and go on with their lives, I pound and pound away, figuring out ways to screw up my own program, and applying a fix.

Of course, when obsessiveness is used constructively, it is no longer obsessing, it is perfecting.

Perfectionism has always been my euphemism for my (sporatically) obsessive behavior. I sometimes just call it being anal. Maybe Freud was right; maybe I really kept it all in when I was a kid. Who knows? I had recently (within a couple of months) went to a doctor, and she told me that I didn’t go enough. She recommended that I eat more fiber to help. I had always thought that going once every few days was normal, and that going daily was strange. My dad went every day, in the morning. I know because I had to be there while I brushed my teeth, or be late. I guess he’s not anal-retentive, whereas I am. A generous guy, he is. But then, I don’t consider myself to be selfish and greedy either.

Wow, that last paragraph just went completely off-topic.

Oftentimes, my perfectionism tires me out, and I give up. Thus the many open computers in my room and/or house. I want to do something, do it half-way, and wind up giving up instead of just continuing on. I had written in one of my earlier entries about this. Thus, I get nothing done. Lowering my standards tends to get more work done.

I really can’t explain my need to restrict myself. It’s the confines where I thrive, where I love to be. I like to write HTML with XHTML Basic 1.0, I like (the idea of coding in) assembly language, I like using LaTeX to write up all those nice documents, and I like to write things in good grammar. Granted, my grammar is not the best, but I try.

I would imagine that a person who was as anal as I am would be very clean. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case. I am a rather messy person, and my room shows it. I cannot seem to keep a clean room for long. Only when I feel the need to impress someone do I clean it up. Well, that or when I really cannot stand it myself. Oh, and don’t forget about all those times when I desperately need to find something to procrastinate with.

Half-finished, half-finished. Everything about me is half-finished. I have lots of books lying about, with bookmarks stuck in the first few chapters. Actually, that’s about it. But there are enough books that are half-finished to warrant this paragraph.

The more I write, the more I want to write. Unfortunately, there’s only so long that I can hope to hold my audience’s attention. I suppose this would be a good place to stop.