Love - (n.) An intense feeling of deep affection.

Our minds are continually evolving as the abundance of certain neurotransmitters rises and falls relentlessly.  Sometimes I get into a great mood and wish that I could live the rest of my life in that particular mental state, usually when I’m slap-happy or in some state that would allow me to view everything with a sense of humor.  That would make everything so much more fun and easy.  Imagine the most stressful situations in which normally one would spiral into a state of hopelessness and frustration.  If only I could approach these situations with a lighthearted, positive mood every time.  Unfortunately, I’m often a slave to my brain chemistry and have to embrace situations through whatever state of mind I happen to be in.

 

One question that’s been on my mind lately is how much control over our own thoughts and states of mind do we have?  There is a neurotransmitter for every emotion humanly possible, therefore my reality at any given time is governed by the presence or absence of mere chemicals.  People alter these chemicals all the time via antidepressants, alcohol, drugs, even caffeine.  Maybe even love can be reduced to a molecular structure that passes from synapse to synapse in the three-pound mass of mush encased within the skull.

 

Oxytocin is a chemical found in mothers that encourages love and bonding between her and her children, so how is this any different?  It’s also interesting that neurologists have found an oxitocin deficiency in women who have been previously abused, thus affecting their ability to form loving relationships.  Well, this means that our experiences change our brain chemistry, which also changes our reality, etc.  This brings the battle of nature versus nurture to a tie, since both obviously have large influences on our personalities. For more on this see this article.

Oxytocin Model

The unexplainable thing remains, why do we fall in love with certain people, but are repulsed by others?  Maybe we are predisposed to certain characteristics that we find attractive, which release these love chemicals.  However, it is possible that we attract these characteristics to us and not the other way around.  I may find short, brown eyed, brown haired, intelligent guys attractive for some reason and can’t force my brain to release a love chemical when I come in contact with a 6’2”, blond guy with blue eyes.  In other words, my brain chemistry is attracting me to a certain per

son that I find physically and emotionally appealing.  This could also explain the mystery that some people are attracted to the opposite sex while others are drawn into the sinful pit of homosexuality (that was sarcasm), but that is a whole other blog.  Basically, I guess we attract ourselves to a certain brain chemistry in another personal that fits with our own like a jigsaw. 

And what about energy?  There is the idea that chemicals in the brain cause us to feel a certain way about someone but what about that feeling of energy that people give off.  It’s as if our two unique brains are creating an aura around us, like a bubble.  We even refer to it as “chemistry”, or “spark”.  I am not going to pretend I have anything figured out, but these are just questions stirring in my head.  Will we ever know what our reality would look like if we didn’t have these goofy emotions getting in the way of things?

Let's be honest...

Okay, let's be honest!  Personally, I have diarrhea of the mouth, but not the kind most people have.  Mine can be perverted, raunchy, disgusting, and vulgar, but it's honest.  The only way I can express what kind of colorfully perverse things go through my head is to articulate them in the most realistically descriptive language possible. One of the characteristics I love most about the English language is its multitude of expressive words.  Subtleties like the difference between the synonyms "imbecile" and "douche-bag" really allows the English-speaker to paint two different pictures.  That is why I devote this blog to painting the everyday mediocrities of my life using neither acrylics nor oils, but simply words.  

 

Let's take yesterday for example.  I woke up next to my boyfriend around 11 AM and sometime between petting my cats and laughing at each other's morning-breath we decided to up and drive 4.5 hours to spend the day in Chicago and drive another 4.5 hours back home.  Upon arriving to the city around 4:45 PM we parked the car in the same parking garage that I normally use when I drive to Chicago.  From the car, we set out into the city on a mission:  to find new pants for Brian (the boyfriend) since the button on his jeans had broken off.  He claimed he couldn’t walk around the city with his pants falling down and that the only solution was to buy new pants immediately.  On our short walk to the Magnificent Mile we passed a Starbucks that holds a special place in my heart.  A few years back, I drove to Chicago to get an international visa to study in Spain (you have to do it in person, since they won’t accept applications by mail and Chicago is the closest place to turn in the app).  I had just pulled into my typical parking garage and felt an intense urge to shit.  I know this may be T.M.I. for my first blog, but let’s be honest.  Basically, that particular Starbucks at 202 North Michigan Avenue was the closest spot with a bathroom.  Let’s just say I made it by the skin of my teeth, and I’ll be forever grateful that I was able to relieve myself.

After searching several clothing stores, Brian failed to find good jeans (shopping for jeans is a bitch), so he decided to just deal with his broken ones.  It wasn’t more than an hour since we arrived and we had already made our way down to H&M, which is a great store for moderately priced, cool clothing.  We were on the third floor – of course men always have to walk either to the very back of the store or go up several flights of stairs to find our section, which is normally a tiny corner with three racks – when I received an electrical impulse from my large intestine to my brain.  It was saying, “Get your ass to a bathroom if you want to wear this pair of underwear back home today.”  It felt as if I were passing a knife through my digestive tract, so I was left with no other choice but to follow my large intestine’s instructions.  So, I quickly told Brian that we had an emergency on our hands and I booked out of that store down three escalators in search of a shitter.  Of course the store had strategically programmed those escalators so that one going down leads to one going up, therefore you would have to walk around to the other side of the store to find the other down escalator and see all of the merchandise on your way there. Eventually, with my ass clenched tighter than a Jew’s change purse, I made it to the street where my eyes scanned for a public restroom.  The first thing I saw was the Border’s Bookstore that is right next door to H&M so I power walked through the doors and asked a security guard where the restroom was. 

 

Now, when I got there of course both stalls were occupied so I stood there in a cold sweat until some zit-faced preteen finished pinching one off.  Needless to say, I was praising Jesus for letting me purge that demon.  I spared my Jockeys a macabre explosion.  It must have been the Fillet-o-fish combo I got at the McDonald’s in Indiana on the way there.  Let that be a lesson to you all!

 

The rest of the day was a delight.  I walked with Brian along Michigan Avenue and enjoyed people watching and sight seeing.  We returned to H&M since our shopping experience was cut short and later got ice cream.  We got a good four hours in the Windy City before we needed to head back home and on the way to the car we saw this lovely woman:

She was the highlight of the trip.  We followed her all the way to Lake Street where the car was parked and couldn’t stop admired her gourd-shaped ass.  She really pulls off that black jumpsuit.  Brian and I both agreed that her name is probably Lisa.  Sadly, we needed to turn the corner to find the car and we had to part ways with her. 

 

On the way to the garage we passed the Starbucks again, so Brian and I went in to get some beverages before the long drive.  Wouldn’t you know?  I started to cramp up again and luckily the bathroom was unoccupied this time.  Round two of the runs was less brutal, but this time it burned like hell.  I might as well have been shitting out Tabasco sauce.  And how ironic!  It was the same Starbucks bathroom that saved my ass (literally) a few years ago.  I should send them a thank you card or something.  Well, long story short, don’t forget to lay a plastic tarp underneath you before you have McDonald’s or you’ll ruin your furniture. 

 

Don’t be scared away by my crudeness.  Shit happens to the best of us.  As Mrs. Doubtfire would say, “Forgive me.  I’m being blunt as a spoon.”  If you want the watered-down version of life, go see someone else’s blog.  Thanks for bearing with me.

Comment on your thoughts :)