Are You Anal?

Is this you?: Noun 1. anal-retentive personality — (psychoanalysis) a personality characterized by meticulous neatness and suspicion and reserve; said to be formed in early childhood by fixation during the anal stage of development (usually as a consequence of toilet training).  Wow, when others have told me (on numerous occasions by the way not that that surprises anyone) that my tireless efforts to perfect whatever goal I’m trying to achieve in life — be it as simple as folding my toilet paper ever so meticulously as to awe-inspire the ultimate wipe without overly squeezing the Charmin — are anal, I had no idea that according to scientific definition, my ass was LITERALLY to blame!  That’s what I get for thinking it merely a figure of speech.  That should automatically warn new parents everywhere the dangers of performing the Potty Dance with their children!  Studies performed at the waste of taxpayer dollars in the next 30 years may find that overexertion or abundant exposure to the Potty Dance may result in an over-population of mechanics, waitresses, reality TV show stars, politicians and other under-achievers. And if our anus makes us anal, then the larger our anus the more anal we are?  I don’t know about you, but with my personal story, that would explain A LOT!  So next time I feel the need to put that spit shine on perfection, and someone asks me, “Ok Nik, why do you have to be so anal?,” I can reply, “Don’t blame me, blame my ass!”  At least I do have some comfort in knowing that in many aspects in life you can be alone, but you are never alone in your “Anal-osity.”  No, not everyone is “totally” anal, but I would like to think that the majority of the population that resides on the third rock from the sun has at least some anal ways or tendencies about them.  Some people may have to wear the same exact tie on the same exact day of the week because that’s the day they have to wear “that” color.  Some may count the number of times they vertically and horizontally brush their teeth so that their bicuspids aren’t cheated from a particular direction of brushing. Perhaps others make sure when they knock on a door that they perform their knocks in groups of three because they don’t like even numbers.  I think you would agree that the examples could go on into the next millennium.   So let’s face it, we’re all ANAL.  You just can’t deny it.  But being anal can’t be all that bad or annoying.  You still have to have some respect for those who feel the undying need to dot every “i” and cross every “t.”  Reporters, such as myself, need to be anal every day.  We ask anal questions that we know our anal editors will expect us to ask or chastise us for not.  We have to check and make sure that every sentence we write is perfectly worded and perfectly placed because even though we’re told we’re human and that it’s expected we’re going to make mistakes, in all reality we’re really expected to be PERFECT all the time and to give an editor EXACTLY what he or she wants ALL THE TIME.  Of course this practice does require some mystic mind reading and the occasional miracle, so you better make sure you’re never off your mark.  Those are the analosities we must face each day to make others happy while only allowing ourselves absolute misery.  But then there’s the analosities that you can’t find in the Pocket Book of Survival.  Take for instance the above illustration which was the inspiration for my blog today.  The stuffed strawberry.  The mere methodology began to play in my mind.  Ok, you have this tiny strawberry.  It’s not like coring an apple, which is hard and a bit larger.  You’ve got this tiny, tender, delicate berry, with it’s head ever so slightly shaven off.  Then someone had to literally gut this tiny berry, being ever so mindful and careful as to concentrate on just removing the middle flesh, not piercing or puncturing its sides.  And after achieving that perfection — spending at least five hours per berry performing the task — there’s the filling.  And no, whoever gave birth to this stuffed strawberry didn’t just spoon the filling in with the Guinness Book of World Records’ smallest known spoon in the universe.  No, they had to take a pastry filler or fancy frosting cake decorating thing-a-ma-jiggy, to magically and so artistically swirl the filling within the center before re-crowning that berry majestically with its own scalped head.  My first thought when first seeing this picture was “OMG, how anal!”  Seriously, who would take the time to do that?  Yet to the pastry chef or maybe the strawberry worshipper, that was the exact picture of perfection.  Heaven = perfectly stuffed and swirled strawberry.  Which made me think it’s probably ok to be anal about the things we’re passionate about.  Like when I’m crocheting or knitting and I find the slightest imperfection and need to rip out rows upon rows of yarn fabric.  Someone without the eye for that sort of thing, who wasn’t a knitter and didn’t know any better, more than likely wouldn’t have noticed.  But I do and I know it’s there, so we just can’t have that.  A violinist may practice a piece of music over and over again a hundred times and perhaps to you or I it sounds the same each time, but the violinist feels he’s still not getting the perfect tone or pitch.  But is that constant redundancy being anal or ultimately attempting to achieve the ultimate form of happiness: Satisfying Yourself?  So the next time someone calls you anal or says you’re being anal, don’t hate them.  Don’t take it on the negative.  Tell them you’re just jealous of my perfect ass. Remember, the next time you’re in an elevator and your eyes start to tear because somebody just silently ripped one, think of this: not all farts are wasted air.  They are the attempts to perform the “perfect” relief.