People who know me well (and by this I mean the 6 followers of
Darrell's Yakimania), know that I can be a wee bit obsessive when it comes to things that interest me. I have a hard time regulating my time or energy when it comes to things that I am into. When I'm interested in something it's essentially
pedal-to-the-medal-balls-out-take-no-prisoners total commitment until I get bored with it and then I usually walk away from the matter for a few months or even a few years, until I get interested again and then it's a
where-have-you-been-all-my-life-how-did-I-live-without-you? total obsession again. Things that would fall into this category would be cross-country skiing, snowboarding, caving, rock climbing, Japanese, Spanish, genealogy, family history, etc.,
ad infinitum,
ad naseum. I'm sure there's a mental health disorder somewhere in the
Diagnosis and Statistical Manual for Mental Health Disorder, IV that could explain this phenomenon, but there' no way I'm ever voluntarily subjecting myself to a psychiatric examination to find out! It's simply way too frightening to think what might be revealed about my inner psychological workings in such an exercise. Nope, I am not the least bit curious!
Now there are several interests that I never seem to tire of; namely: wrestling, fishing and all things Wolverine related. Fishing and wrestling are understandable life time obsessions for me. Wrestling defines who I am--it's more than just something I do--I AM a wrestler. That has been a fact for decades. Fishing? While I cannot adequately explain this obsession, I'm pretty sure it's something biological. During my last annual physical examination I asked Dr. Brett DeGooyer, my very patient and skilled family provider, to look carefully for gill-pods behind my ears to see if he could detect any physical signs to explain this phenomenon, or otherwise offer-up any medical opinions on the subject. I am disappointed to report that he found nothing. And so while I'm not entirely sure what's up with this constant obsession, I comfortable with the explanation that it's something innate, such as an immutable characteristic unique to simply being me. In private, I have confided to the She-wolf that it might be something sexual, but this is way too
Freudian, and my thoughtful musings on this subject will have to be more fully explored in some future post.
But my obsession with the Wolverine?! I really don't get it. One would think an obsession over this type of super-hero would be exclusively the domain of goofy, adolescent boys--after all, I am a very mature, respectable and normal middle-age man. I used to think it was because the Wolverine was so dang cool and rugged. He's conflicted to the core and deeply mysterious. He's hiding deep secrets and pains that no person could possibly understand. And when he morphs, you know it's excruciatingly painful, which just compounds the problems for the bad guys he's going to dispatch because morphing puts him in a really, really bad mood, and some body's gotta pay for that. Most important, you can't kill the dude. Bullet to the head? No problemo. Knife to the heart? Nope, he's going to keep coming for you. Yep, everything I want to be physically is represented by the Wolverine, even thought I know that I don't look anything like this most amazing superhero.
Last summer, the She-wolf made an interesting observation that, in a creepy way, might explain this obsession. We were on our way to see the movie
Les Miserables, when I commented, "I understand, the Wolverine is not only a really good actor, but that he sings amazingly well." She gently corrected me, "Darling, the Wolverine is not in this movie.
Les Miserables stars Hugh Jackman." "Well, regardless, I'm really excited to see this movie and see the Wolverine in a totally different context.", I insisted. The She-Wolf then demanded, "What is your obsession with Hugh Jackman?" I responded defensively, "Who said anything about Hugh Jackman?" Then the big light that invariably and embarrassingly illuminates most things for me in life shone directly, painfully and mercilessly into my guilty face, as my wife offered this insightful conclusion, "Darling, I think it's rather obvious you have a thing for Hugh Jackman." I vehemently protested, "Say what?! That's ridiculous! There's no way, I would ever have a thing for a dude! That's sick!" The She-wolf continued, "It doesn't matter what movie he's in, you demand to see it three times. You refer to him as the Wolverine, but it's
him you want to see. Take
Australia for example. That was an okay movie, but you seemed to think it was on par with
Gone with the Wind." "That's just crazy!" I protested, "I just think the Wolverine is uber-cool and a got a little confused because after all, the Wolverine, is kind of like Hugh Jackman's alter ego." With great satisfaction, she just mumbled, "Whatever you say, Big-guy."
I was really disturbed by this conversation and was in total denial until last Sunday during the Superbowl, they showed the Wolverine in a luxury suite...er, I mean Hugh Jackman, and I got all excited, "Sheila look, even the Wolverine, is at the game!" The She-wolf just grinned and gave me that look that can only be described as her oft repeated, "Whatever you say, Big-guy." She then sat back with great satisfaction to enjoy the game.
In the end, I know she's right. It's true I obsess over the Wolverine and maybe for reasons that I can't (or don't want to) explain. As for Hugh Jackman? Well, like the Wolverine, he's pretty cool too.
