You are an obsession, you're my obsession

I have an obsessive personality. Well, I did. I still do in a way. It is waning a bit, or perhaps I am just putting the energy into more positive designs. Yes, that is it. The child of an alcoholic, I suppose it is natural to be a little addicted to something. For my sake, thankfully, that does not involve Southern Comfort. Not on a hourly basis that is. I used to be obsessed with relationships, what people thought of me, my future, my clothes (the lack thereof), money (again, the lack thereof) and on and so forth. Like many unhealthy obsessions, I learned they can often cause one pain and money or both. But now, I am relatively content with a few simple obsessions. All of which cause me little or no pain, yet still a little money. I obsess over my hair, shoes, my feet and decorative items. Yes, simple obsessions. Healthy obsessions. I don't have time for the unhealthy ones anymore.

My love lately is going to the auctions and bidding (buying) any piece of crap that strikes my fancy. Below a Jim Dine poster. I arrived late to the auction this day and as I sat down in my chair they promptly began the bidding. They held it up high for all to see. I was shocked no one was bidding. I looked around fiendishly. I nabbed it for $15 bucks. Sadly, in my delusional state of "Oh shit, they are auctioning off a gin-u-wine Jim Dine artwork and no one here knows what it is except for me!" did it dawn on me this was just a poster until I got it home and inspected it. One of probably 10,000, if not more sold at any 'ol mall poster store. The label on the back confirmed my woe "Olla Podrida Poster Shoppe." Two "Ps." Even more misleading. That is the danger of the auction. You can quickly trick yourself into thinking you found a lost Jasper Johns or Rembrandt if you are note careful. Nonetheless, I like the poster--hearts aren't my thing really--but I suppose if I had to have a heart poster it should be this one.

I will have you

Yes I will have you

I will find a way and I will have you

Like a butterfly

A wild butterfly

I will collect you and capture you

The candle chandelier hung elegantly waiting for me to bid on it whilst a rather gruff white bearded ZZ Top type looked on. I approached him and the chandelier with caution. Eyeing it, touching it, fantasizing about eating a romantic candlelit dinner underneath Sixteen Candles-style. In a beautiful dress, in a beautiful house. No biker type could stop me. It became mine for $20.
The vase evokes fin de siecle Emile Galle, but was probably sold at T.J. Max in the mid 1990s. I didn't care. New Art Nouveau, old Art Nouveau. Whatever. Cerulean blue and glowing dragonflies. I was hooked. Enchanted and swept away. My heart fluttered. My mouth salivated. But this time my mom bought it for me as a present. I was pleased. It now sits atop my piano.
Finally, the item I had been waiting for. Trolling the auction for weeks waiting for it to be placed up so that I might have a chance at bidding. My day came two weeks ago. An Art Deco watercolor of leaping elk/deer(?) signed by french artist Remy. This one was the big purchase--I outbid another obssesive competitive bidder. Mine, all mine, for $125. A new frame is all it needs and then up it goes in my living room. I rested good that night. Yes I was a happy obsessive little camper.