Once, it was all about expensive panties. Then it was yoga–mostly the clothes, but sometimes the positions. The Dune series by Frank Herbert was a biggie, as was professional wrestling, erotica, organic cotton, New Kids on the Block, pole dancing, felines and Reiki.
My interests don’t really follow a pattern when it comes to subject matter, but they always unfold the same way: I get obsessed.
I’m not interested in a bunch of things at once–that would be impossible. And crazy: multiple obsessions would be exhausting.
Of course, obsessions are expensive. It’s a given that I need all the cool things that come along with it. That’s part of what make obsessions so awesome.
Pole dancing was one of the more pricey interests. First, there was the pole (I got one of the best money can buy), then came the instructional DVD’s, books and apparel. I still have a drawer full of stripper clothes that I never wear anymore (feathers make me sneeze).
Shoes have become a touchy subject in my house. I bought 15 pairs of stilettos during my pole-dancing craze–the coolest and, consequently, the least practical, are black vinyl with eight-inch heels. They make me feel like I’m walking on chopsticks. I wore them for almost five minutes, then they joined the other lost soles in the back of the closet.
Then, one day, I lost interest. It’s not really a gradual thing; I just stop because, for whatever reason, it just doesn’t do it for me anymore.
My new obsession is ghost hunting and paranormal research. This is one of my stranger interests. It was unexpected–kind of like falling for George Costanza or discovering that Danielle Steele books are highly entertaining.
Lately, I’ve been spooking around graveyards, reading up on the paranormal, buying techy-gadgets and downloading episodes of Ghost Hunter like a crazy person.
The other day, I even visited the Bailey House Museum in Wailuku to see if I could catch anything unexplainable or maybe hear a ghost story from one of the workers. It’s definitely creepy there, but then again, it’s an old house with a bunch of old furniture so that’s not saying much.
The pre-contact Hawai‘i stuff was interesting–I was especially taken with the “dog-tooth” necklace. This thing had about 500 canines strung onto it. Since a dog’s mouth holds no more than four canine teeth, we’re talking a lot of dead dogs. Plus, they were all pretty, unchipped teeth. I was a vet-tech for six years and let me tell you, nice dog teeth aren’t common.
My guess is that these dogs either died young (but old enough to have very large teeth) or were raised specifically for pretty choppers. Either way, it’s freaky.
The Bailey House bedrooms gave me shivers, but that’s probably because I’m creeped out by old dresses and dolls. While walking around in the rooms, I felt like I was trespassing. Granted, I was envisioning the old inhabitants of the house walking around with me.
When I was done, I asked the woman at the front desk if anyone had ever complained of ghosts, and she said that several volunteers had mentioned cases of the heebie-jeebies, but that she had never experienced anything herself.
“But I’m here all the time so they’re probably used to me,” she said. “I do my thing, they do their thing.”
I’d totally pay the five bucks admission again to take some of my new equipment in for a hardcore investigation. I’m anticipating barking—a whole lot of barking.
Starr Begley’s first boyfriend was Joshua, who had really cool cuffed jeans and used to smooch her hand at preschool. MTW