Everybody has their vices. I say this fully aware that in the other room Joanne is feverishly tearing through the Sudoku (a puzzle game here in Spain... like a crossword but with numbers) book that she just bought in Corte Ingles. She also has lost the ability to blink or speak in coherent sentences whilst crunching numbers in that smart little head of hers. But I'm coming to realize that I have a lot, and I mean really an excessively absorbant amount, of addictions and/or obsessive compulsive tendencies.

First I have my everyday food addictions. Everybody has these, whether they be your common place daily need for cookies and cream ice cream or something obscure like plums (cough cough, Mark). I tend to gravitate towards chocolate, Diet Coke (mmm... Christmas break, when I can drink Diet Coke instead of Coca Cola light.. and yes there IS a difference), coffee (I've hit the need for two cups a day of Spanish coffee, otherwise known as the closest thing you can get to a caffeine injection), and peanut butter (I don't feel the need to elaborate... I think it's understood). And clearly, since they taste so damn good, it's an unwritten rule that they have to in some direct or indirect way try to kill you. Diet Coke... causes cancer. Coffee... ulcers. Chocolate... diabetes, obesity, heart problems, etc. Peanut butter, when eaten in moderation, is good for you. Needless to say, the self-control part of my brain is in a permanently switched to the off position. In fact, I think I may have been born without it. One day in the day of Betsey's eating addictions is like watching a commercial for some Pfizer medication... I love these. It's like, hey you'll be cured of your depression, but this medication "may cause high blood pressure, drowsiness, 38478383 types of cancer, your left ear to fall off, dizziness, temporary blindness, 8 hour erections, foot fungus, memory loss, anal leakage, and death." I don't know about you, but depression is sounding more and more like a Caribbean vacation.

Then come my non-food addictions. This is where I will first divulge my relatively secret addiction. PANDA CAM. This is completely pathetic and I have no problem admitting it. Yes. I, Elizabeth Marie Mattern, stalk panda bears. During the summer while I was in Middlebury (little known fact, Middlebury comes from the Native American word Middlebumbororouy, which means infernal language boot-camp), I was illegally reading cnn.com (illegal because it's written in English... language pledge taboo) and came across a story saying that a panda cub was born in the national zoo in Washington, D.C. AND, that you could check it out on a webcam! I was curious, and directed myself to said webcam to find to my delight that there were actually two. So, basically I have been, on a daily basis, charting the growth of this panda cub from the time when he was born and weighed 2 pounds to now, when he weights 15 pounds and has been learning to walk. AND, I don't think it's necessarily a coincidence that my birthday was the selected day on which the cub's name was chosen... not that I keep track of those things (his name is Tai Shan)

My daily crossword puzzles. I have to do two a day, the two preferred being the Eugene Sheffer and the Boston Globe puzzles. The thing is, I'm living in a country in which everyday I wind up wanting to hit myself in the head with a large, blunt object because the things in my head somehow become idiotic babbles when they come out of my mouth. I need some self-affirming evidence to prove that I can survive in at least one language... hence crosswords. However, the addiction is nearing a stage of obsession which calls for an intervention of some sort I believe. It's just a matter of days before I walk into my apartment to find my family and friends sitting semi circle in our den, asking me to accept help from professionals. Then I'll go to some Texas ranch or health lodge on a lake to learn to breathe deeply, ride horses, count to ten, and find new outlets for my energies.

Like the crossword puzzle, another habit that I've picked up from my dad the lawyer is my daily checking of the New London Day (my newspaper at home) to see if anyone I know has been arrested. This is not normal. On the more positive end, I do also check to see if anyone I know has gotten engaged or married. That makes me slightly less cynical, no?

Cows. For anybody who knows me well, it's a given that I have a very weird attachment to our bovine friends. In fact, it's quite possible that I was a cow in a past life... but that's beside the point. So obviously airplanes and such have radar. Me? I have cow-dar. There could be a random pair of cow-printed socks in the back corner of a store on the other side of the street, and I will see them. I don't even try. You know it's bad when all of your friends see cow-printed objects, stuffed animals, cards, etc and automatically think of you. If you people could see the diverse collection of cow things I have in my rooms at home... wow. To the looney bin I would be sent.

The last of these is more of a OCD tendency. I don't have claustrophobia... but I cannot stand to be stuck in a crowd of people. I freak out. For example, I have gone twice to El Rastro, a huge weekly flea market here. The amount of people that go is overwhelming. I went with Hannah and Nell and they were both like "Bets, are you ok?" I need to walk fast and I cannot be stuck behind a big group of slow-moving people. It's actually starting to cause me physical damage, which makes me think that it could be becoming a problem. Sunday afternoon, I was taking a walk and getting lost about Madrid. I had finally oriented myself and was close-ish to home, when I found myself on a street which had the highest population I have ever seen of handicapped people. I mean, old women who couldn't walk, TWO guys on crutches, and a blind person. And, they were all in front of me, creating an obstacle course that would make me look like a complete bastard if I went dodging through all of them. I'd probably knock over a guy in crutches, causing an old woman to trip and she'd fall on the blind person's dog, clearly making the blind person then trip, etc. To avoid such debacles, I opt for my normal routine of walking on the curb part of the sidewalk, which is separated by a line of trees. Needless to say, I am at this point listening to my Ipod and walking at a 'quick' pace on an 8 inch piece of sidewalk wedged between trees and parked cars, when BAM. I misjudged a tree's placement and get it instead in the side of the head, causing a delightful bump (which remains there today) and an accompanying sweet scratch on my arm. Having heard the "clunk" of my head and an "ow!" from my mouth, the old and hardly able to walk woman, along with her equally decrepit companion, stared at me questioning MY ability to walk.

My OCD's, addictions, and obsessions are going to get the best of me one day...