Guilty by suspicion
(Warning: mixed autobiographical post)
Being about to start a short vacation, I am dam Pheidippides effect, an effect that should be recognized by physicians and social security.
Athenian messenger Pheidippides was that he ran 150 kms. for help to the Spartans before the impending battle between Greeks and Persians would happen in Marathon. After the battle ran another 42 kms. to Athens to announce victory. After fulfilling his mission, to finally rest ... forever. The story is probably one of the many Greek myths is of little importance as I, like many others, I am easy prey Pheidippides effect: while I am working I am in perfect state, but as the holidays start, I get sick. Strictly my holidays have not begun, but before its imminent and I am sneezing and coughing incessantly like a flooded engine.
This reminds me that during the first week of my vacation earlier suffered all kinds of ailments and even small encounters with nature. And since then I have the conviction that only by achieving something similar concentration to the physical. This concentration should be mainly visual and, preferably, linguistics: a written page or computer screen produce the miracle of health. I have even found that in my case, the headache is good for work because such is the concentration needed to overcome the pain threshold that, once achieved, the results are remarkable: the pain is somewhere and I see it but, above or below, think of it.
this will seem horrible to say, not so much. Beyond those who enjoy watching the endless horizon of ocean, or the vast darkness of the night sky. To me, causing me anxiety and something like an offset that some consider enriching but I feel useless and uninteresting.
Last summer I went on vacation to San Francisco, Maldonado. The house was the last of the block, had two neighbors, nearby. The house was on the side of a hill that was all that was visible from there. Cerro, horses and waders. Very nice everything.
As I said, when I'm calm in those situations, I get anxious. Not that I'm afraid, but the quiet fire my imagination into areas unheard. Something like a calm paranoia, an impotent waste delivered to the odds. I look at the clear sky and imagine an alien spaceship that comes to look, or a massive meteorite whose destination says "Piriápolis and Surrounding Areas" or a burning plane going down, down (and I swear that in previous aircraft rental episode was almost true .) And if outside the sound of a cricket becomes extremely insistent, imagine an invasion angry crickets imminent or single cricket giant has decided to take revenge on a massacre of its kind.
I will say that the improbable of situations imagined child gives me a bonus, except for a severe crack in reality, the imagined is not true. Or I think unconsciously imagining unlikely misfortune away the likely trust. But that is what would a psychoanalyst, whose diagnoses are operational simplifications more complex mental mechanisms.
All this reminds me of a Clint Eastwood movie I watched for a while. I do not know entirely what it was called that movie, but I remember clearly that she talked about the polygraph test. Of a man who despite being convicted agree to submit to the test and not passing, or a man who despite being innocent not pass the test. And I thought I would not in any way. Yo, before a test, I am always guilty even being more innocent than Heidi.
What do you see my last vacation, anxiety during states of rest and Clint E.? Well, during that vacation was, one night, sitting in the back of the house, Remo, after roasting pieces of meat on the grill with some skill. The night was clear and there was a strong and warm north wind. I said that the heat that brought the breeze was the heat of Artigas, Tacuarembó, a second-hand heat, as when one enters a movie theater and the second function is all breathed air, and gone through countless bellows half outside and everything is awful. So I went to the bathroom. When he returned, Remo was sitting very still, his back to me. On the table was the knife I had used for cooking. And I thought, "if while I was in the bathroom, someone came between the acacias and killed him with the knife, nobody on this earth believe it was not me and I expect many years in prison." Remo was alive was a kind and not just because I hope to live many years. However, that did not stop that for days had the certainty that the possibility, however slight, is one of the most powerful forces to which individuals are subjected and to which, are most vulnerable.
When this happens, reassure me thinking that in my case, the probability is a friendly force, as I am not a person or essentially fortunate or unfortunate, and always applies the average. That is, at least in my case, I hope that it becomes possible not probable. And is that one of the few magical beliefs that I have is that the fortune and misfortune, for some individuals, statistics do not apply. This is a religious statement, the statistics go crazy when to fortune and misfortune are concerned. In these cases, the dealer loses.
All this comes about because the possibility, however improbable, is the force that is at the root of the absolute tragedy. The probability should be taken by humans as part of the human avatar. The possibility and the exceptions are much more frightening statistics and the mere existence of the human race is an example too obvious to ignore.
