We served alfredo fettuccine last night and I got so pissed at all the people who kept looking at the alfredo sauce and asking what it was. It’s like, what the hell does it look like!? What sort of chunky, white, creamy shit did your mother feed you!?
In my Occlumency class, we’re discussing conditioned and unconditioned stimuli and responses. We get problems that look basically like so:
“Steve followed his parents’ PT Cruiser on a long car trip up a windy mountain. All he saw for about three hours was the back of the PT Cruiser. After a while, he began to feel carsick. Now whenever Steve sees the back of a PT Cruiser, he feels sick.”
- Unconditioned Stimulus: windy mountain roads
- Unconditioned Response: feels sick
- Conditioned Stimulus: back of PT Cruiser
- Conditioned Response: feels sick
So I wrote my own problem that goes like this:
“Every once in a while, Ginny has to serve mile-long pasta to hundreds of students at work. The pasta is difficult to serve because it gets stuck together, it’s so long, and she always either gets too much or too little on a plate. Hundreds of students come through the line and say, ‘Pasta’, making her feel frustrated. Now whenever Ginny hears the word ‘pasta’, she feels pissed off, frustrated, and anxious.”
- Unconditioned Stimulus: difficult pasta
- Unconditioned Response: frustration
- Conditioned Stimulus: the word “pasta”
- Conditioned Response: frustration
I’m so proud of my creative new method of complaining.
Hehe–a little while ago, I was sitting in the rocking chair, and Milo walked by on his way to the computer and just briefly patted my head. It was just a playful, friendly sort of little thing, but still…physical contact. Always nice. Actually, it was very exciting. Sigh. I’m completely pathetic. I just want to run my hand through his hair. I would really like to do that. Or…I really want to kiss him. I so screwed up that one on New Year’s–that was because I was trying to keep my feelings hidden, and I knew if I kissed him the way I wanted to, he would have known…he would have understood.
…! That’s what I need to do! I want him to understand–if I think kissing him is going to accomplish that, then…I guess that’s what it’ll take. Maybe I could arrange to be around him on New Year’s…and then I’ll have an excuse…and this year I wouldn’t have to worry about hiding how I feel. Yes! New Year’s! It will have to be New Year’s! I could do it then, completely guilt-free!
I…might be kind of ridiculous.