It's All Jennifer's Fault...

My sweet, sweet friend -- who I will be forever more both infuriated at and indebted to -- is the reason for my recent neglectful behavior. I was happily living in my simple existence, never knowing the wonder that awaited me.

I've been aware for sometime of my weakness to become addicted to things at a very rapid pace. And once addicted, to obsess over those things for long periods of time.

I knew this.

I know the way my pulse races when I look at my Roswell dvd's, or watch the countless fan videos on YouTube that feature Max & Liz.

I know the way my ears listen a little harder when I hear the faint tune of a song featured on ALIAS -- straining to fully recognize the song so that I might sing along, even if only in my head.

I know the way my laughter increases when I remember the persnickety lines murmured by a "tiny, blonde one" by the name of Veronica Mars.

I know the way my smile brightens when I think of the Dillon Panthers and the interwoven lives of their starting lineup -- the devotion of a small town to a high school football team on Friday Night Lights.

I knew all of this. I've known it for a long time. I make a conscious effort to avoid things that will trigger my obsessive trait. I avoid these things at all cost. How much room could I possibly have in my life for all of these things? They are so unnecessary, yet so vital to my happiness. So I had purposely been avoiding this. I had turned a deaf ear to the whisperings all around me. I had turned a blind eye to the images I saw at every corner. I thought I had done things right.

It was all Jennifer's fault...

My sweet friend who so innocently offered to expose me to this secret, swoon-worthy world. My friend who encouraged me to share in her passion, her addiction. I thought it couldn't hurt. I thought I would pacify her pleas by simply giving in a little. I thought I should be kind and honor her well meaning, angelic request. Little did I know what was coming.

I think she did this on purpose...