I prefer to think I do not have any obsessions, fixations, that my life is ruled by logic and good practice, that every action is the result of purposeful choice, a step towards some nirvana that is the reward for an existence well performed. Naturally, my ‘Great Expectations’ are in true Dickensian fashion entirely false, there are indeed multivarious guides, drivers, instrumental in my behaviors, successful and foundering.
I cannot claim, as can Pip, some randomly connected villain, whose only outcrop of goodness is to further my otherwise slow and mediocre advancement,. Rather I am obliged to recognize my own less virtuous traits and wiles that somehow manage to benevolently steer my discombobulated rear in the imagined correct direction.
Fate doth make me my own greatest enemy and persistent elector, a most antagonistic combination, sowing misery and elation in equal measure, the definition of a full and well lived span, the only obsession or fixation acceptable to the thinking beast.