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| English: Male long hair in Western culture. Totnes, UK 2008 (Saturday afternoon, about tea time) (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
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| Kamisuki (Combing the hair), A colour woodblock print, Japan, Taishō era, 1920 Goyō (1880-1921) (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
Have you ever named an inanimate object? (Your car? Your laptop? The volleyball that kept you company while you were stranded in the ocean?) Share the story of at least one object with which you’re on a first-name basis.
Ever since I remember, the problem in my life has always been love. Love, Love, Love. I am so prone to falling in love every now and then and that too with non-human beings. By mentioning non-human beings I simply do not mean pets, other animals, insects and pests alone. I do at times fall in love with objects, like real inanimate stuff. Really, I am not joking.
There is so much of stuff that I have hoarded on to in all these years of my life that I have actually stopped counting on the numbers. Like I recall having all this in my memory of the stuff that I have kept myself since years like the old spoon, few old books, hair clips, old school kitchen gadgets that my mom used to use ages ago (now that she has upgraded herself to latest gadgets), old school mosquito repellent electric gadgets, old newspapers, vintage jewellery and the list could go on and on and on for long.
Though, at times I do get a mixed feeling towards the reasoning for my behaviour in hoarding all these stuff. Like sometimes I feel that all those stuff are actually useful and that is probably why I still carry them around with me; but many more times I end up realising that it is more on the still-so-much-in-love thingy and a little less of keeping for the utility reasoning that I have become a hoarder for used and retro stuff.
But very recently I have reduced this obsession of mine to a great extent. I mean I had to, because since some time I started getting the feeler that this kind of kleptomaniac behaviour of mine within my own house was getting towards becoming a serious illness. The realisation daunted on me when I started calling my hair-clip a "baby". I used to caress for it as if it was a child of mine. I would take care while using it, be more cautious when I would be sleeping while still using it on my hair. I mean the well-being of a hair clip had actually become a thing of concern for me. The obsession was also not limited to simply calling and caring for it like a baby; I also started experiencing a deep connection with it. For an instance I remember getting breathless once when I did not find it around me after removing it at the time of a shower. Believe me this is not the end of the crazy story, there is more to it. My heart used to skip a beat whenever the hair clip would fall off from my hand; and that day I realised this-is-it. I then took a conscious decision and told myself to get sane. I slowly and slowly started on my path to pull myself away from my obsession of considering mere hair-clip as my little baby. Yes, I agree it was a little difficult to do initially, but slowly I got over my insanity and one day I just graduated to a plain stretchy elastic band.
2 months of using it the band instead of a hair clip, and I must say that I am completely over my strange habit of addressing a hair accessory my "baby".
Ahh...my "sweet heart" just got entangled on my long hair during the time I was writing this post, so please do not mind the typos on this one.
