Pavlov Must Have Been a Drag at Parties

Birthdays, break ups, the smell of fresh snow.  Time, distance, rarity.  I have always been amazed at how almost every thing we encounter can trigger gutwrenching responses in us.  I am also amazed at how these emotional responses can change when we least expect them to.  Finally, I am awed at the things we do to feel the ghosts of past emotions and find new ones.

A personal example:  I had a girlfriend who lived in a studio apartment with two cats.  She was not the greatest at cleaning out the litter box.  If you have ever had a cat, or known someone who has, that combination leads to a very strong smell, and possibly taste, that hits you in the face when you walk in a door.  At the start of the relationship, I complained about this state of affairs regularly, even cleaning the litter box once in a while to push back the odor.  As time went on, I began to smell that odor and realize I was home.  This was not because I fell in love with the cats, or the scents they left behind, but because as the relationship grew, walking in the door and smelling the cat piss and kitty litter that told me I was about to see the woman I loved.

Now if I smell that same odor, it comes with a wall of feelings: lost love, distaste for ammonia and cat fluids, lazy afternoons watching old television shows, regret, and a touch of happiness from what I learned about myself and life from my time in that apartment and with that woman.  A stew of nostalgia.  And now, in some strange way, I enjoy that smell while being revolted in the same breath.  I'll breathe it in a little bit if chance across it.  I am sure most of you can relate to this.  Once in a while you buy that shitty beer because it reminds you of an awesome summer of parties.  A Blue Jeep reminds you of that asshole boyfriend you couldn't quit, but you check the plates anyway, and you are just a bit disappointed when it isn't him

We even go out of our way sometimes to seek out these triggers if they make us feel good.   Pushing a workout past your saftey zone to feel the accomplishment for a few more hours.  Staying up that extra hour to keep the conversation going.  I've heard this described as nostalgia for the present moment, and it fills us with a wistful happiness that fades even as we feel it.  We do the opposite to avoid the painful feelings and memories as well.  Avoiding your ex's street to pass the pain of seeing her porch where you spent so many nights together watching the drunks and drinking until you both joined them.  Not drinking grape soda because of the time you got sick at camp.  But what interests me most is the when we seek out that which causes us pain.

Most of the people I know seem drawn to pulling back the scab of old wounds and even rubbing salt into the nerves.  This may be indicative of the people I know more than anything else, but I still find it morbidly fascinating.  Why do it?  What memory is worth that pain?  I am left to think that underneath the pain and sorrow we willingly go back to, the joy that bred the hurt is too tempting to avoid.  And that fills me with hope.  We endure the bad, because the good must be underneath it somewhere.   That happiness is something we will keep trying to find.  Something that we will hold on to and push through the world to find again.  God be damned if we aren't going to try and dig down through the shit until we unearth that one grain of diamond!