I have a “secret obsession confession” to share. Now, in my defense, everyone has at least something they are obsessed with, or at least truly passionate about, so give me some slack as I brave the potentially large amount of pitiful looks I’m destined to receive this week.

My obsession, like those of many others, comes in the form of a celebrity.

Celebrity obsessions are among all of us, although some refuse to admit it. Whether we fall into the “passive, yet always observant” category or consider ourselves a full-on stalker, the fact is many of us have fallen into the celebrity obsession trap at one time or another.

I fall somewhere in between those two categories. I’d like to call it the “slight adrenaline starting, giggle inducing, pure awestruck” category. These symptoms are the result of the ruggedly handsome and breathtaking Mr. Harrison Ford.

Now I know he’s old; he’s 64 to be exact. But he wasn’t always old. In fact, in his younger years he was renowned as the smug pilot and space adventurer Han Solo in Star Wars and the swashbuckling, whip-savvy archeologist Indiana Jones. His film career has spanned four decades and has made him one of the most sought-after and bankable actors in Hollywood, according to all those fan Web sites (not that I would know).

As long as I can remember, or at least as long as I could say Han Solo, I have had a special place in my heart for Harrison Ford. I didn’t discover what all this meant, however, until an unfortunate experience in high school made me come to terms with my obsession.

In high school, my only personalized area was my locker, which I decorated with all of my favorite pictures, including a handsome portrait of Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones.

One day I was standing with my locker open with two of my friends. One of them, holding a water bottle, decided to start a water fight. As water sprayed everywhere and I frantically tried to stop the whole situation, I watched in vain as my favorite Harrison picture was drenched with water and became a casualty of war.

That day changed my life forever. OK, not really, but it did allow me to evaluate my celebrity obsession and realize that I am not alone.

In fact, I evaluated my friends similar “obsessions” and realized that whether it’s Brad Pitt, Orlando Bloom, Elvis (yes, I really have a friend that believes the King is still the bomb) or Harrison Ford, we are all in the same boat.

Support groups should really be started for this kind of thing. Any takers?

Now, like I said, I am not alone in my obsession and I am definitely not a stalker. But if anyone happens to know where Mr. Ford lives, I would be very grateful to receive that information.