"Can you imagine us years from today? ...How terribly strange to be seventy." - Simon and Garfunkel

I don't know what it is, but I am on a kick right now with my notes from classes. Today we talked about a lot about different neuropsych tests, one of which was about the placebo effect. There was a pretty famous study done in Florida, known as The Balloon Study. It involved inserting balloons into people's rears and then blowing them up. The participants were divided into 2 groups, 1 that was given an analgesic (because it hurts), and the other a placebo. Apparently a good number of the people who got the placebo felt no pain. FYI: your frontal lobe is the main part of the brain that processes placebo analgesics, so that's the part of your brain that convinces the rest of your body you are actually getting an analgesic when you're not. It should be noted that participants got $100. Would you do it for $100?
The whole idea of a placebo is so intriguing. It's the ultimate example of the old phrase, "if you put your mind to it, you can do anything." In fact, the placebo effect is so powerful at times, that the FDA has made it mandatory that when testing a new drug, there has to be a minimum of 2 test trials that show a significant difference between the drugged (independant) group and the placebo (control) group. It took Prozac 8 TRIALS (and a whole lot of other stuff) before they got 2 trials that were more significant than the placebo group, and therefore approved by the FDA. Let's just say that's a LOT of trial runs for a new drug that supposedly works to cure depression. I'm not pointing any fingers, I'm just saying...or am I?
I also learned today that we have what's called Natural Killer cells in our body. I don't know anything above that, but they are a good thing, and I assume they are a part of our white blood cell staff. We want them. And they increase with laughing! Growth hormone, our body's homeostasis, and blood flow also increase. Basically, laughter and processes related to our immune systems have been positively linked, which also means Keaton Jolley and Heather Baxter might be some of the healthiest human beings I have ever met. :) Way to go guys.

And now for my creative writing piece from last week. It's a little intense. A happy piece of information before I turn you loose: I graduate in 2 weeks! My parents are coming into town and I have my official job interview with Sundance next week to be a camp counselor. Also, my very first best friend, Julie, is getting married in November and asked me to be her bridesmaid! I remember we'd talk about being at each other's weddings back in the days of yore, and it's finally going to happen. Wow. I dedicate this song to her.

K here it is. I have no title.

He looked her up and down without trying to hide it. "You ain't gettin' a single drop more than anyone else, I don't care if you do have a child, you whore." She was too dignified to give a response less than grateful. At the same time, it was nothing short of painful to watch her hold her tongue. "Thank you, sir." It came out as a whisper. She turned around with one bowl after she made her lips smile and walked towards the table she had left her wanting son sitting. I wanted to give her my portion, but I was starving, too. Thank God for giving me my mother's good looks because that cook always gave me half a ladle more soup than anyone else. I set my bowl up on the metal counter and I knew all I had to do was look him in the eyes. Grease seemed to be oozing out his skin like tears. His teeth were tinted orange and I could see some missing when he'd smile at me, again not trying to hide it. Under a hairnet that seemed pointless because of all the holes in it laid his slicked black hair. His oily, pocked face and double chin reminded me of my mother's boss, the principal at our neighborhood elementary school. I didn't like him either. "Here you go," I thought I saw him pucker at me.
Coughs, clanks, and clicks filled the room. The walls vibrated with bodies moving to stay warm, to rub the itch of appetite. A human hive, humming with hunger. Slurps, sips, and sniffs. I took my time to walk to the table with the lady he called a whore and her son. I saw no smiles, except on a few children playing Peter Pan and the Lost Boys by the door. Their father rested his head on the wall, staring at the ceiling motionless. I'm positive he didn't blink for at least a minute and it made me think he could have entered a contest and won. He would have at least been a rival for Jenny. She always wins, even though she's only 6 now. She gets it from her father.
When I got to the table, careful my back was to that pig serving soup, I said quietly to the lady, "You can have some of mine." Before words could come out of her open mouth, I took my bowl and poured some of my soup into hers. Some of it spilled on the wooden table, and without missing a drop, she wiped it up with her finger; after she licked it clean, she pulled a splinter out.