psychoanalyzing myself
I know I do this quite frequently, but alas, I'm kinda obsessed with how people work and I know the most about myself so deal with it.
So since I've lived with Andrew I've seen a lot more food mold than I've been used to in the past. My family and college roommates know that I can't stand it, I can't even look at mold. Andrew knows this but forgets frequently and leaves his dirty dishes sitting around in places I can't find them, and then I don't WANT to find them.
So why do I hate mold with such a passion? It really borders on a phobia. The key is in blue cheese. I love blue cheese. I would eat it on salad every day if I could. So that's probably the most ironic thing ever, until I thought about it a little harder. Blue cheese is supposed to look like how it does. A peach that is bruised and fuzzy blue is NOT supposed to look like that. Hence my problem with mold isn't that it exists, but that it turns things into other things.
More evidence:
--When I was 2 my grandpa spilled whipped cream on his shoe. I screamed and cried hysterically. I did the same thing when he burned the turkey a few years later. I don't remember these things but my family reminds me frequently because it was so odd of me to do (I was a very happy quiet child).
--When watching a movie when I was between the ages of 4 and 9 I would find something that disturbed me intensely about the film and I could never watch that part. One was Alice in Wonderland. There was a lobster guy and some other guy and one of the guy's faces got really super red (I haven't watched that film in forever so I forget now) and I was scared of his red face. I was also afraid of Ichabod Crane's face when he ate something really spicy and his face got red and started smoking in the cartoon of Sleepy Hollow.
--My dad had a best friend with a big beard. One day he came over and it was shaved off. I ran screaming and wouldn't look at him. My dad had a mustache from when I was born til I was about 10, the day he shaved that off I wouldn't look at him for the entire day.
--The things I am most creeped out by in horror films are things like....Texas Chain Saw Massacre when he wears people's faces. Skeletons scare me because I know they were once human. I could care less about needles and seeing people get stuck with them (unlike my needle-queasy boyfriend and father) unless the people end up looking different afterwards. The same goes for stabbings or shootings.
So, in effect, I find visuals very powerful, apparently I always have, and I don't like when they change. I really have no idea why, maybe because it makes me lose control of the schemas of the world I know? But I can't effectively hate everything that changes something. I don't hate rust or a million other things that can produce that effect. I still support my theory though.
So that's why I hate mold (presumably). If any of the other psychologists that read this want to make a comment, I'd be more than happy to hear how they feel on the subject.
And since Joe was being an ass on the other post, this one's for you baby:
So since I've lived with Andrew I've seen a lot more food mold than I've been used to in the past. My family and college roommates know that I can't stand it, I can't even look at mold. Andrew knows this but forgets frequently and leaves his dirty dishes sitting around in places I can't find them, and then I don't WANT to find them.
So why do I hate mold with such a passion? It really borders on a phobia. The key is in blue cheese. I love blue cheese. I would eat it on salad every day if I could. So that's probably the most ironic thing ever, until I thought about it a little harder. Blue cheese is supposed to look like how it does. A peach that is bruised and fuzzy blue is NOT supposed to look like that. Hence my problem with mold isn't that it exists, but that it turns things into other things.
More evidence:
--When I was 2 my grandpa spilled whipped cream on his shoe. I screamed and cried hysterically. I did the same thing when he burned the turkey a few years later. I don't remember these things but my family reminds me frequently because it was so odd of me to do (I was a very happy quiet child).
--When watching a movie when I was between the ages of 4 and 9 I would find something that disturbed me intensely about the film and I could never watch that part. One was Alice in Wonderland. There was a lobster guy and some other guy and one of the guy's faces got really super red (I haven't watched that film in forever so I forget now) and I was scared of his red face. I was also afraid of Ichabod Crane's face when he ate something really spicy and his face got red and started smoking in the cartoon of Sleepy Hollow.
--My dad had a best friend with a big beard. One day he came over and it was shaved off. I ran screaming and wouldn't look at him. My dad had a mustache from when I was born til I was about 10, the day he shaved that off I wouldn't look at him for the entire day.
--The things I am most creeped out by in horror films are things like....Texas Chain Saw Massacre when he wears people's faces. Skeletons scare me because I know they were once human. I could care less about needles and seeing people get stuck with them (unlike my needle-queasy boyfriend and father) unless the people end up looking different afterwards. The same goes for stabbings or shootings.
So, in effect, I find visuals very powerful, apparently I always have, and I don't like when they change. I really have no idea why, maybe because it makes me lose control of the schemas of the world I know? But I can't effectively hate everything that changes something. I don't hate rust or a million other things that can produce that effect. I still support my theory though.
So that's why I hate mold (presumably). If any of the other psychologists that read this want to make a comment, I'd be more than happy to hear how they feel on the subject.
And since Joe was being an ass on the other post, this one's for you baby:
Comments
When I was like twelve, I was watching this program on um, unhappy accidents. It began with this man you was taking nasal sprays to increase his lung capacity...you know, one of those kinds that has low-dosage steroids in it. Well, one day, he was unfortunate enough to take a big whiff of his bread loaf, trying to decide if it were edible. It was not. Simple. Common. Bread mold.
The next day he was all itchy in his nose and couldn't breathe. He let this go for two days, and then he got fevers and chills and any number of other ailments. He went to the hospital and the doctors examined him. The bread mold had been sniffed into his nasal cavities and were growing at an insane rate (due to the steroids). Long story not so long? They had to dig out his face with an icecream scoop (or so it looked) and give him a new, snap on nose and eyes. Yeah. I know, right? No joke.
Now, take THAT to your visual alteration theory...and tell your boyfriend(?) THAT story when he lets things mold!