Hippies, Shock Therapy, and Peas.

Today I forwent an 8 mile cab ride, and navigated the Albany bus system for just over two hours to save $22. I also probably saved like .0025 carbon credits or something. I got home, threw on a stained hoodie, curled under the blankets in my freezing basement apartment, and sipped loose-leaf tea while reading Naomi Klein's book on The Rise of Disaster Capitalism. I also took time to apply Malibu Hemp® moisturizer to my dry skin (a result of standing outside in the cold, waiting for the bus). I also haven't shaved in a week and my hair's starting to get shaggy again. Showered, but it was the only time this weekend. My only salvageable feature: bought a new suit at Jos A. Bank on Black Friday; I'm still a part of the consumer class, though hangin' by a thread.

I've always been intrigued when the mind/body's perception/reaction set directly contradict logic and reality. Food aversions are the classic example (I've associated whipped cream with pills for 14 years now - it still tastes like the nasty medicine embedded inside a gelcap). I've encountered a new example recently. I've been hooked up to a heart monitor about two weeks, with four little pads attached to wires that essentially provide a 24/7 EKG heart read-out for my doctor. I sometimes get these phantom seizures where the electrodes are attached, presumably a holdover from physical therapy history. In high school I underwent electrical stimulation to heal a badly sprained thumb and then for shin splints to continue running throughout my senior season. I also had several sessions over the past year as part of my therapy regimen for my back.

Due to this extensive history, I think the electrodes generate the anticipation of shocking a muscle group. It's not constant, but sometimes I'll be sitting around and my chest will exhibit a random little spasm. It's intriguing, though provides about as much evolutionary advantage as disliking peas because you once ate them before drinking half a bottle of Jäger. Conclusion: the body is as logical as Glen Beck sometimes.

For the record, I still like peas. Especially frozen peas. I love me some frozen peas with butter. Or just eating them frozen. Love'em. I've never really liked Jäger.