" . . . composed of several qualities, most of which, in normal people, are signs of either immaturity or incivility: wit (a tendency to make irreverent connections); obstinacy and a tendency toward churlishness (a refusal to believe what all sensible people know is true); childishness (an apparent lack of mental focus and serious life purpose, a fondness for daydreaming and telling pointless lies, a lack of proper respect, mischieviousness, an unseemly propensity for crying over nothing); a marked tendency toward oral or anal fixation or both (the oral manifested by excessive eating, drinking, smoking, and chattering; the anal by nervous cleanliness and neatness coupled with a weird fascination with dirty jokes); remarkable powers of eidetic recall, or visual memory (a usual feauture of early adolescence and mental retardation); a strange admixture of shameless playfulness and embarassing earnestness, the latter often heightened by irrationally intense feelings for or against religion, patience like a cat's; a criminal streak of cunning; psychological instability; recklessness, impulsiveness, and improvidence; and finally, an inexplicable and incurable addiction to stories, written or oral, bad or good."
The most freakishly accurate and complete description of my personality I have ever found. It's an oral fixation for the record . . . manifested mostly by chattering; everything else is accurate and yes, I AM addicted to stories. So much so that when I leave a movie or finish a book I feel depressed because I have to leave a world that has a plot and meaning and significance and go back to real life which so often feels aimless and confusing . . .
"Dire que j'ai gâché des années de ma vie, que j'ai voulu mourir, que j'ai eu mon plus grand amour, pour une femme qui ne me plaisait pas, qui n'était pas mon genre!"
--- Proust, Du côté de chez Swann: Un amour de Swann
