The Smell of Pain

So when I was little, I think 4 yeas old, I was running down a ramp in Louisville's Belvedere.  I was with my parents, but I broke away to run downhill.  Being little, I fell and face-planted before the term was in wide use.  I hit my upper lip hard enough that it split open.  Other than the pain, I don't remember much about what followed.

I'm sure my parents applied tissues or something to staunch the bleeding, but it was found that the bleeding wouldn't stop.  So off to a hospital I went.  I ended up getting three stitches in my lip and was limited to foods I could take through a straw (Kool-Aid, Campbell's Soup, etc.).

I would swear that I was screaming through most of the suturing, but Mom denies that.  But since that day, one of the things I would remember upon waking from nightmares was this chocking chemical smell.  It was a sensation that would linger for minutes after I woke up.

When I started working in environmental, I started wearing nitrile (non-latex) gloves to prevent contaminating myself with chemicals of concern.  The first time I opened a box and the smell hit me, I finally knew where the nightmare smell had come from.  The doctor(s) that worked on my lip must have worn nitrile gloves (or something similar) and that smell stayed with me.

I kind of let the connection fade over time, but today I opened a new box and the smell hit me taking me right back.

What is it...

What is it about the tale of Superman that touches me so deeply?

I'm sitting here watching "Man of Steel" and each flashback, each time he manifests a new power each time he does what Superman does, I get choked up.

There must just be just something about it that triggers me.

Proximal Reading

So, today at lunch, I had the most amazing experience.

I was reading Kraken by China Miéville which was referred to me by a friend.  It's a bit of an odd book.  The language is semi-colloquial British, and then there's the strangeness going on in the book, and then there's the strange characters int he book with their own strange speech patterns, and so all in all, it's a bit strange.

So I'm reading at lunch, sitting at my table in the little rented house, and I'm getting into the book.  Then as I sank into the book, it was like I felt my friend sitting next to me.  It was like she was in the non-existent chair next to me reading her own book.  I just wanted to turn to her and say, "This is a pretty messed up part right here."

It was that real.  And I've never had that feeling before.