“When people walk away from you, let them go. You shouldn’t have to talk them into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring about you, and coming to see you, because if they really cared about you in the first place; they would not be going anywhere.”—Unknown (via venebelle)
“There is lovemaking that is bad for a person, just as there is eating that is bad. That boysenberry cream pie from the Thrift-E-Mart may appear inviting, may, in fact, cause all nine hundred taste buds to carole from the tongue, but in the end, the sugars, the additives, the empty calories clog arteries, disrupt cells, generate fat, and rot teeth. Even potentially nourishing foods can be improperly prepared. There are wrong combinations and improper preparations in sex as well. Yes, one must prepare for a fuck - the way an enlightened priest prepares to celebrate mass, the way a great matador prepares for the ring: with intensification, with purification, with a conscious summoning of sacred power. And even that won’t work if the ingredients are poorly matched: oysters are delectable, so are strawberries, but mashed together… (?!) Every nutritious sexual recipe calls for at least a pinch of love, and the fucks that rate four-star rankings from both gourmets and health-food nuts use cupfulls. Not that sex should be regarded as therapeutic or to be taken for medicinal purposes - only a dullard would hang such a millstone around the nibbled neck of a lay - but to approach sex carelessly, shallowly, with detachment and without warmth is to dine night after night in erotic greasy spoons. In time, one’s palate will become insensitive, one will suffer (without knowing it) emotional malnutrition, the skin of the soul will fester with scurvy, the teeth of the heart will decay. Neither duration nor proclamation of commitment is necessarily the measure - there are ephemeral explosions of passion between strangers that make more erotic sense than many lengthy marriages, there are one-night stands in Jersey City more glorious than six-month affairs in Paris - but finally there is a commitment, however brief; a purity, however threatened; a vulnerability, however concealed; a generosity of spirit, however marbled with need; an honest caring, however singled by lust, that must be present if couplings are to be salubrious and not slow poison.”—Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker
Well, a flashing neuron is no big deal. That’s what brain cells do. When a brain cell receives signals from other parts of the brain, the energy builds up, almost like a rising tide, and if the pressure gets strong enough, there’s a release, a break, that is literally an electric flash. Neuroscientists call this a “spike” and they can see it (or with a tiny microphone, hear it) in a living brain. That’s what Fried and his colleagues saw at UCLA.
The curious part was that there’s a particular neuron devoted to images of Jennifer Aniston.
Joe thinks that this is a bad analogy of how a neuron works and really good example of how using simple words can hide the actual meaning of the research. Neurons don’t flash. Your brain doesn’t have electricity running through it, more like electrochemical waves. There’s also no pressure. It’s more like adding current to a fuse: eventually it passes a threshold and goes off. And there’s not a “Jennifer Aniston” neuron, it’s a pattern of firing among neurons that creates a memory. You have a pattern for Taco Bell, and for that ugly Christmas sweater, too.
Ok, Joe is done ranting and speaking about himself in the third person.