Cold toes

A salient and memorable point in the Intro Psych lecture on memory is on the creation of false memories, particularly around cherished or significant moments, like one's wedding or the morning of September 11, 2001. For memories that get replayed or talked about, the discussed memory can take the place of the actual lived experience, so that spouses sometimes swap memories of things that they saw at their wedding, even if only one of them actually experienced, the contents of that memory, so that both "remember" the experience as if it is their own. This can be used by tricky researchers to suggest or implant memories, and perhaps by others for more nefarious purposes. And it can lead people who revisit memories to make up stuff that never really happened, with implications for situations in which accurate memory has external implications, like in the witness box. 

With that caveat, my toes are cold again. Every few years, in a writing mood in a wintry season, I find myself staring out into space and enjoying the expertise of my fingers against the keyboard and the chill in my toes beneath the desk. The first time is in high school and the desk is to the right of the fireplace, under a window, and the computer is large and beige and I need, slumped into the big black chair as I am, to look up when I want to focus my eyes and see the words my fingers have typed magically by themselves. There's plastic on the window and a tree outside, a lamp arching over me to the right and the house is dark and quiet, everyone has gone to sleep.

Yesterday's run destination: Montana Ave.

Yesterday's menu:

breakfast: cereal

lunch: bulgogi and bibimbap from Kobawoo