Obsessed

I told you the other day about starting my new blog, Old Ain’t Dead. I’m a bit obsessed with it, and I think I overlooked posting here a couple of times. By obsessed, I mean so involved with my own writing that I cannot think about anything else, especially real life and the things I should be doing. Obsession is a good thing, right?

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “obsessed.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “Obsessed”

  1. Pens. Carla was obsessed with them, especially fountain pens, which was the device she used when she learned cursive writing. Her favorite color of ink—peacock blue. It reminded her of the color of the sea and the sky; two places she enjoyed because of her love for boating and flying.

  2. To be obsessed we must have an obsession. Obsessions lead us to dream, to think, and to talk about that unforgettable something with vigor. What ever it is, the obsession must be viably addressed and actively controlled. It sometimes causes the obsessed to be in that state due to insignificant things.

  3. I want more I tell ya MORE! I need you in my life, my soul! You’ve been hiding from me for so long and I can’t wait anymore. I want to rip you open, gaze and dig deep inside of you as I flip you over! Oh how sweet knowledge can be. I think I’m obsessed when I read.

  4. I read today about a jazz musician of the 1920s named Bix Beiderbecke who died as a young man trying to reach a note on his trumpet that didn’t even exist.

    Blew a hole inside his brain trying to find something that wasn’t there.

    And I dawdle over 50 words…

    1. Gene, I’d like to point out some facts about Bix Beiderbecke that were not captured on your post. Bix played the cornet and not the trumpet. He also played the piano. He was a recidivistic alcoholic, and this was the main cause of his declining health. He died of lobar pneumonia secondary to his alcoholism.

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