Emotaphor

Random thought while in the gym today. No double meaning, no sinister intent. Just a thought.

Emotional pain is a very close metaphor to physical pain.

See, what I was thinking today, while my arm was sort of hurting, was that with the technology we have today, we could make human bodies immune to pain.

But what good would that do? That would mean that a crazy psycho mutant scorpion thing was gnawing on our foot, and we wouldn't be able to feel it.

Physical pain is trying to warn us from doing something. Like sticking out hand into a festering pit of poisonous reptiles for instance, or attacking a nest of African bees.

Sometimes, however, we ignore this pain, or grit our teeth and get over it, because the end result outweighs the momentary pain. Like getting a tooth pulled out, or my dad fighting through the pain in his arm to work 10+ hours per day.

It's the same with emotional pain. Sort of. Like, you feel it, and you know that you should try and avoid the situation that caused it in the first place. Except with emotional pain, there are even less rational situations where you would be inclined to go back and take the pain again. And yet, somehow, it so often happens that we will take emotional pain again and again, whereas with physical pain, we eventually concede defeat. Like rejection, or being ignored. No matter how many times it hurts, most people keep plugging away at it.

Interesting. I don't know why that is, probably because I haven't studied the almighty mind-opening discipline of psychology, or something of that ilk. Seems like a worthwhile subject to take. But only if they talk about random things like this.

Word of the Day: Sighcology

Weird thrills

As this semester of uni draws to a close, I reflect upon this weird thing that I get a kick from. I've noticed that I get this rush when this happens for quite some time, but I finally contextualised it yesterday.

So there I am in the stats tute, right at the back of the room, minding my own business, when suddenly, a question comes to mind. I state said question in my loud booming voice, and, like well-trained soldiers, all of my tute...mates snap their heads around and stare at me. It's such a rush to see the heads all turning in split-second synchronisation, in all it's predictability and perfection. So I did it again. Twice. Same thing happened. One day next semester, I'll see how many times it happens in one tute before people stop. I should be a psychologist. I notice weird behavioural things in people.

The end of the semester. What a relief. Because the end of the semester (hopefully) signals the end of a dreadful semester of stats. No more regression this, anova that, draw five million pie charts. Still got French oral tomorrow. Wish me luck.