Love. Addiction. Same thing.

According to a study mentioned in Wired magazine, love is an addiction. I laughed to myself as I read this because that's always been my experience with love. The utter surprise of hitting it off with someone becomes an endorphin stoker, pushing my happy hormones to excited levels. And then comes the anxiety that is attached to happiness; to get so happy means that should it not work out, the disappointment is crushing, so the anxiety acts as a preemptive downer.

Then comes the inability to sleep, the difficulty in concentrating, my mind jumping to the love high at any given moment, savoring it, remembering it, feeling it. My mind becomes ever so excitable, so it's hard to stand still and my thirst to keep moving increases.

When I get the text message or the phone call, the high is refueled, my heart jumping into my throat or my stomach and I crave more and more. I crave more dates, more physical contact, more glances, more kisses, more emotion from him.

And then, when it doesn't work out, even if it's for the best, I jones for it. Like a junkie who is dope sick and thinks one more dose is going to fix everything, I jones for his voice, his mouth, his smell, his words.

According to the Wired study, when the subjects, people who were still in love with their exes, looked at photos of the exes, a part of their brains lit up on a neural scan. That same part of the brain also lights up when an addict indulges or is craving another fix. On a positive note, the study showed that time does heal all wounds; those subjects who had been broken up longer than others had the weakest reaction to their exes' photos than those who had just broken up. The more the time, the lesser the reaction, the lessening of the addiction.

Addiction is a funny thing, and one I hope to kick one day.

Risks

It's only the anxiety, I think to myself as I move forward with my business plan. I'll be honest enough to say that I'm not sure if I'll see it through; like, I may get to the point where I finish the plan, see how much money I would theoretically need, look at the interest in the terms of inked finance loans, and might in the end, decide the risk is too great.

Risk is something I think about often. I was born a planner with an adventurer's heart, a methodical and rational thinker, a safe, straight-arrow type person with a thrill seeker's soul. This is my problem. Having lived through crushing lows and desperate periods, I tend to walk a line which I know will keep me happy and balanced. But, the thrill sometimes is too great. Don't get me wrong, I dream and I pursue dreams. Freelancing is a dream, and one I pursue. Owning property is a dream, and one I continue to cultivate. So is the garden I planted, which will yield something and has taught me about my connection to the earth and my own two hands.

Everyone asses risks and then chooses whether the risks are worth taking or the potential backlash is too much. I'm somewhere in the middle, trying to think about the hypothetical payoff versus the negative outcomes. We'll see. But for now, I'm happy to dream and place one foot in front of the other, moving forward with my business as if I am really going to do it.

It is now 1 in the morning and although summer's heat hasn't come yet, I find myself in the midst of pre-summer insomnia.

I've been thinking about integrity. I hope to become assertive enough and bold enough to hold my integrity, that when there's a chance of giving in when I don't believe in something, just to make things work, I'll back off and take the punishment for standing by my word.

Germany's Metropolis and the American Dream

I've never seen Metropolis but am quite sure I know what this epitome-of-German-expressionist-film's story is about. The crucial and seemingly never ending struggle between the poor working class and the wealthy in a capitalist society.

This just in: the American Dream is now dead. I kind of finally understand what Hunter S. Thompson was searching for. Perhaps in his drug-addled state, and in my sober one, he and I have come to the same conclusion. This depresses me, but I believe in not wasting the pretty. Not wasting the most precious commodity, time.

The world is Mad Max and the post apocalypse of the Postman. I've moved past sadness although it still tugs at me, into looking out for me, my family and my friends alone. That's all that matters. It is a dog eat dog world and I'm going to make it if I have to use tooth and nail.

Signing out.

Also, in an attempt to keep this blog closed to stupid Asian people who keep commenting with Asian language characters, I'm seriously thinking about revamping my privacy settings. If you don't know me, I don't want to hear your comments, especially if you are too stupid or cowardly to write them in English. Post one and it will be deleted.

Enough said.