The world is full of peaks and troughs. It ebbs and flows. Everything is cyclical, seasonal, and the only certainties in life are death and taxes, apparently. I’d probably add change to that list though.
Nothing stays the same forever. The physical world around us. Relationships. Jobs. Money. And us as people.
I am currently reading Unruly by David Mitchell. His examination of power, national identity and religion is exquisite. He is balanced, pointing out the anachronistic way we view the past, and the negatives and positives of monarchies, parliaments, the military, etc. All smattered with his own sardonic opinions. (I love the man) Most of all though, he highlights that the main issue throughout history: humans are, essentially, twats. To misquote George Orwell, “All humans are twats, but some are more twat than others.”
When discussing Edward II, Mitchell explains that the king was an epic twat. Whatever good Edward did, he would always undo later because, fundamentally, he was a massive bell end and people don’t change.
However, I am not sure I agree with that sentiment. We do change. We grow. I am not the same person at 41 as I was at 31 or at 21 or 11. I have had numerous career shifts, married, given birth, divorced, experienced death (not mine obvs), moved house, seen friendships wax and wane. I am older, arguably wiser and give far fewer shits.
All kinds of madness has happened since I was a teenager, obsessively listening to Oasis, or pouring over Smashing Pumpkins lyrics or fervently researching the life of Sylvia Plath. Life has shifted since the days when I would neck pints of cheap lager in one go, to the cry of “Get it down, you Zulu warrior” at 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon, in a pub full of old men. Old men who very much wanted us and our drinking games to fuck off. And when we got there, to fuck off some more.
Nowadays, I get a headache from one glass of wine. I would definitely tell a bunch of rowdy students to stfu if they started chanting and I can’t remember the last time I listened to Oasis. Probably in my brother’s car months ago. So, yes I have changed.
I am now more likely to stress about the number of roadworks in Crosby (which is obscene and never ending) than whether I accidentally flashed my boob whilst drunkenly staggering down Plungington Road in Preston. Or whether I did snog that man outside the pub, because I was so pissed I can’t remember. I no longer stress about this because, these days, I don’t get myself in a position where that would happen. These days, I know better. Allegedly. (NB, these are clearly hypothetical situations that never happened. They are purely for illustrative purposes.)
But I guess we are multifaceted. Change doesn’t necessarily mean one enormous transformation. There are layers to who we are and what we do. But do our core beliefs really ever change, even if our behaviour does? Do we really change our behaviour? Do we just have default setting? Psychologists claim, with the right support, we can change even a default setting, due to neuroplasticity (look it up, it’s fascinating). But this is always within the context of that very fashionable word “authenticity.” So is Mitchell actually right? Are we always fundamentally who we are? Just altered versions? Was Edward II authentically a twat because, essentially, that is who he is? Am I still the same twat?
I am still a chronic over-sharer. I still talk way too much, despite the fact I internally scream at myself to shut up. I just keep going. I am still neurotic and will worry about having said the wrong thing or if people like me. Although maybe a little less than I did. And I still hyper-fixate.
I cannot remember a time I have not hyper-fixated. Over everything. Music. Books. Art. Hobbies. Even people. If something gets in my head, I will spend virtually all my time lapping it up. Living it. Breathing it. Yearning for it. It will consume my soul, become part of my fabric. I will think about it 24/7. Total obsession.
Sometimes one fixation leads to another: Oasis led to the Beatles led to George Harrison led to Eastern Mysticism and religions. Elizabeth Wurtzel led to Sylvia Plath and Bruce Springsteen.
In my youth, it was indie and rock music, along with PreRaphaelite Art, tortured writers, eastern mysticism and boys. Defo boys. And girls too at times. In recent years, it has been blogging, cults, Fleabag, self help, Hozier and the history of sex and sexuality, along with some medieval/early modern stuff thrown in (Still doing Hozier and history. Very much in my history era.)
I’m interested to see how Spotify summarises my musical obsessions at the end of the year. The songs I have played over and over, for weeks on end. Who will make the 2024 top 10? Watch as American Girl by Tom Petty, Romeo and Juliet by the Killers, Good for You by Olivia Rodrigues, Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac and Would That I by Hozier fight it out for the number 1 spot.
Next year, that list will probably change completely. One day, it just stops. Done. End of. For example, I haven’t listened to A Little Bit Culty in about 6 months, despite having listened to two years worth of episodes in about two weeks, when I was first signposted by my cousin. I haven’t bought a Smashing Pumpkins album since Adore. It’s like the refractory period after an orgasm. It’s all intense and I explode with fervour. But then it’s just over, and it’s time to roll over and go to sleep.
I do still like these things. I still love David Bowie. I am still fascinated by cults. True love lasts a lifetime, right? But right now I don’t have room for the old infatuations because I am preoccupied with new ones: the Betwixt the Sheets podcast and You’re Dead to Me and anything historian Matt Lewis does. I mean… who has a favourite historian? Me. I do. (And probably my old history teacher who quoted A.J.P Taylor quite a lot)
I get that I am weird. As a kid, I was weird. My obsessions made me stand out in school and people thought I was odd and a source of amusement. Particularly when I was in my last few years of primary school and my first few years of secondary school. Hyperfixation does not get you in with the cool kids. No matter what the subject is.
In some ways, I am more chill with it. I can hide it a bit more. I don’t have the time as much to sit and obsess in my room over things. Well, I could, but the kids would starve. However, the invention of Google has been a top enabler. I can consume as much as I want, 24/7. I don’t need to buy newspapers and wait for magazines to come out, or go the library, or wait to tape Top of the Pops because my mum wanted to watch Emmerdale and it clashed. It’s just there at my finger tips.
I don’t think it is healthy. Being obsessive or hyper-fixating over anything, however innocuous, isn’t healthy. But I have never been able to shake it off. I have never been able to stop myself researching a famous person intensely (which you all do to a degree. I see you googling the entire cast of Bridgerton instead of watching). I can’t help searching for the meaning in lyrics and poems and the inspiration for art. I have never been able to evenly distribute my attention span and level it out. I am not great at being a woman – I can’t multi-task.
So maybe David Mitchell is right. Maybe people don’t change. No matter what. My obsessions shift but I still obsess. Maybe we mask and conceal and hide but essentially we will always be the same twat. Just a slightly more developed twat.
The Jeminist 