#taste aversion

[neurosciencenews]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy: What Happens in the Brain When We Have Bad Experiences With Food

With the help of snails, researchers investigate the neural processes at work when we develop food aversions after eating a bad meal.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Kiss and Tell pt2

Hello children, its time for some not-okay Deceit hours! If you missed part one you can find it [here!] (Endgame Analoceit!)

Summary: He’s over Virgil Storm as much as one person can be over him. 

Which--Dee realizes too late, too quickly, not soon enough-- means that he’s not over Virgil Storm at all. 

Words: 1721

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Dee Ekans is not a liar.

Not really.

Because he really had been over Virgil for a long time, years and years long time. They had been kids after all. Stupid, dumb kids who thought they hated their parents and resonated with the way that bases sounded pounding from their shared headphones while lying on their backs in a treehouse while sunlight teased their hair.

Stupid, dumb kids.

Who spent far too much time in a treehouse alone doing nothing but listening to each other breathe. Who shared so many grape popsicles that he won’t even drink grape gatorade anymore. Who kissed in the back of the movie theater in town and now Dee just waits for the movies to come out on DVD or netflix or some jerk spoils the whole plot on Tumblr.

He’s over Virgil Storm as much as one person can be over him.

Which--Dee realizes too late, too quickly, not soon enough-- means that he’s not over Virgil Storm at all.

The Virgil of his memories had been the boy next door: the boy who’s window met right up with his, and had his spider curtains drawn nearly daily since the day he moved in, the boy who wore knee, elbow and hand pads with his helmet when he rode his bike, the boy who never needed anyone else in his life, but had so desperately wanted someone.

The Virgil of his memories had been small and flighty: there one minute and gone the next, like the sun on a cloudy day, like a ghost on a foggy night, like a whisper in an empty house. He doesn’t smile for days and even then its always insincere and angry and that type of personality had electrified Dee. He was afraid of everything and yet he never hesitated to throw himself in front of his friends and take the fall.

The Virgil of his memories tasted like artificial grape and smelled like the earth before a rainstorm. He laughed like the world was ending and Dee had wished, is wishing, wishes he could bottle that sound and sell it to make himself rich. He kissed like he he had actively been running out of time to live, and wanted to make every last second count.

(Who could have known?)

The Virgil of his memories leaves without a trace, without a goodbye, without warning on a cold September day.

Dee had gotten a letter in the mail a week after he found out. He cried about it, because he was fourteen and heartbreak was a sniper shot through his glass heart, because he was a child and that was his best friend, because he was so very alone and he had forgotten what that felt like.

But Virgil’s dad had loved his son.

And there wasn’t a thing more tragic than that.

(Dee had been at school when it happened, waiting by Virgil’s locker anxiously because his boyfriend had missed the bus and hadn’t replied to his text messages and hadn’t he been quieter yesterday? Had Dee done something wrong?)

((He hadn’t. Virgil had written it down on hotel note paper, an apology, an apology, an apology and mailed it with no return address.))

It felt like a sucker punch to the face when he had gotten back home that day and seen the FOR SALE sign on the front lawn. Up until then, the words “Witness Protection” and “relocation” had been fantasies on their favorite TV shows.

It hadn’t been a fantasy when Dee tackled the hired mover who had been carrying a box full of stuff from the house-- Virgil’s stuff-- and it hadn’t been a fantasy when they tear the posters and the secret stuffed animals from his fingers and it hadn’t been a fantasy when his mother had held him tightly while he sobbed on the front lawn for all the neighborhood to see. 

(Dee tries to eat a grape lollipop a month later and vomits in the school bathrooms garbage can which effectively ruins his lizard man Halloween costume. He doesn’t try anything grape again.)

He forgets what grape tastes like. That’s almost like healing, isn’t it? Letting the years pile on and smiling when his parents and his (old) friends tell him twelve months is long enough to stop feeling sad.

The Virgil of his memories is gone forever.

Dee had buried him and moved on.

(And Vampire was supposed to be an aesthetic, not a life style choice, but apparently no one had told Virgil Storm that.)

New friends come, ones that don’t tell him to smile when he’s sad like Patton who shows up with chocolate and tissues and sad movies or the Prince Twins who moved to town long after Virgil had left and brazenly ask who they have to kill so that Dee doesn’t feel as sad anymore and Emile and Remy who take him out to places and give him new experiences.

And Logan.

Logan who was a sun, a yellowed star that burns at 10,000 degrees and warmed the rest of the world with his rare smiles. He was unmistakable, undismissable, unforgettable. And when Dee thought there was nothing worth living for, when the Virgil of his memories had left him in a fog that wasn’t his fault, when everyone told Dee it was time to stop feeling bad and move on, when school felt meaningless and tedious and worthless, Logan had appeared like a beacon to draw him home.

He was warm. He was straightforward. He talked with a purpose and never let anyone speak over him. He had that sort of gravitational pull that drew Dee to him, around him, with him. Before had Dee even known what was happening, Logan had smiled at him and Dee thought he’d do anything to see that sight again.

They’re first date was to a spy museum, their second to an escape room, their third to an aquarium. Dee, who had never been sentimental before in his life, had kept the ticket stubs and the escaped certificate and the pictures and filled his walls with them. They went star gazing they argued over star constellation trivia and ate freeze-dried snacks because they wanted to then they curled up next to each other under a blanket and Dee thought he had never been so warm before in his life. They went grocery shopping at three in the morning and bought unholy amounts of soda to experiment which off-brand type made the best explosions. 

Logan tastes like cherry coke, like freeze-dried mint ice cream, like pop rocks. He feels like a brewing warmth of passion and a standard “home” that had replaced any building Dee could think of. He smells like a library recently rediscovered and full of knowledge to share. He sounds like a crackling fireplace, low and safe with a sudden unexpected and delightful pop of sarcasm and snark and all the possibility of becoming a wildfire.

Dee had Logan, has Logan, loves Logan.

So can someone please tell him why he’s kissing Virgil?

(He doesn't taste like grape lollipops or gatorade or popsicles anymore.)

So can someone please tell him why he's still kissing Virgil?

(Logan is there. Logan is watching.)

So can someone tell him….

(Too late, too soon, not enough)

Can someone please…

(Should be over him)

When did Dee become a liar?

Virgil is soft, his skin is cold, and his fingers feel so familiar. They aren't in a treehouse and the sun isn't shining and they aren't stupid dumb kids.

Virgil’s lips are chapped. They're the warmest part of him.

They're not neighbors anymore, because three months after the Storms moved away, left, disappeared, an older couple had moved into the house with an older woman who never stopped shrieking at her husband whom did nothing but tend to the little garden out front of the house. Virgil lives across the city now, in an apartment with his mom and bikes to school with the best calves of anyone in school.

(Dee can feel those calves now. They are the best.)

And Logan--

Fuck.

Dee feels like he was blindsided, like he was steamrolled, like he should have jumped out of the way of the fucking tornado that was Virgil Storm but instead he stood his ground. Like an idiot who thought he could survive a natural disaster.

This is not the Virgil of his memories. 

This Virgil is a storm, a monsoon, a hurricane and the little life Dee built here is the fucking sailboat that wasn’t tuned into the radiostation.

But that’s Dee fault, isn't it? He was the one not paying attention. He was the one that asked Logan if they could play, because everyone knew that they were LoganandDee and the kisses were just meaningless nothings, because Dee was the one who chose to keep playing, because Dee was the one who lied and said he was over Virgil and now everyone knew.

Logan is there. Logan is not stupid. Logan is staring at the two of them silently, with an expression behind those glasses off his that reads like one of is books: sadness, disappointment, acceptance and maybe something else, maybe something more but Dee doesn’t have the time to figure it out.

(did he ever?)

He is a liar.

So he does what liars do when they’re found out.

He runs.

Hands suddenly shoving Virgil away harder than he meant, rougher than he meant. On his feet, those wobbly noodle legs threatening to give out. Out the door, because it had been all fun and games until Dee brought his emotions into it.

They aren’t kids, but Dee’s still stupid and dumb and now he’s a liar too.

His vomit tastes like artificial grape. His tears like cherry coke. The window in the bathroom is already open and the fresh air feels so painful Dee wants to choke.

The party’s not over, but he’s leaving.

Leaving Remy’s house full of light and laughter and warmth. Leaving all their friends half buzzed and not conscious of consequences. Leaving Logan standing at the bar counter unable to say a word.

Leaving Virgil all alone, surrounded by other people, and he’s disappearing without a trace.

(How does it feel, Virgil? To have someone do it back to you?)

[Part Three]

[psychologistmimi]

My own Garcia Effect: Sadly an eatery ruined by no fault of its own

My own Garcia Effect: Sadly an eatery ruined by no fault of its own

  Right at this moment I am eating, although I shouldn’t be, a bag of potato chips. I had told myself that I needed to cut back on my carbs. And. I have been doing a relatively good job of avoiding potato chips as those are my biggest weakness.  But alas, I am hungry and am waiting for a colleague to arrive and my head is dizzy and fuzzy.  And before you note I could have eaten a piece of fruit,…

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[nottakingprisonerstonight]

Great, now I have a sudden taste aversion to bananas. That’s new. But bleh. I just can’t right now...Guess I’ll be joining Tyler and Josh in avoiding bananas for a while.

[esspodcast]

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[neurosciencenews]

New Discovery in the Study of the Brain and Memory

Read the full article New Discovery in the Study of the Brain and Memory at NeuroscienceNews.com.

University of Haifa researchers find a functional link between the brain region responsible for taste memory and the area responsible for encoding the time and place we experienced the taste.

The research is in Journal of Neuroscience. (full access paywall)

Research: “Differential Contribution of Hippocampal Subfields to Components of Associative Taste Learning” by Adaikkan Chinnakkaruppan, Marie E. Wintzer, Thomas J. McHugh, and Kobi Rosenblum in Journal of Neuroscience. doi:10.1523/JNEUROSCI.0956-14.2014

Image: In the study the researchers sought to examine the relationship between the taste cortex (which is responsible for taste memory), and three different areas in the hippocampus: CA1, which is responsible for encoding the concept of space (where we are located); DG, the area responsible for encoding the time relationship between events; and CA3, responsible for filling in missing information. Credit University of Haifa.

[intangible-rice]

My dad's cooking logic:

Me: This was good, except for the leeks. I really don't like leeks. It's more than just not preferring them, I literally have a taste aversion associated with them.

Dad: Oh, okay. *makes sure every fucking goddamn thing that could have onions instead has leeks from now on*

My brother: These green beans are pretty good. What did you use, soy sauce?

Dad: Yeah, so you like them? *literally never makes any other side dish ever again besides these stupid soy sauce green beans*

[infinite-ellipsis]

The professors are so damn nice here. I can't get over it.

My psychology professor e-mailed me. The subject was "Checking in." She told me that I was doing really well on the quizzes and that the attendance/participation will only bring up my grade. She also asked me if I was having problems with the material/course load.

My response:

Hi Dr. M,

Thank you for emailing me. I am having no problems with the material/course load. I took AP Psychology last year and did well on the exam, so this is a review for me. However, I was disappointed that we skipped the taste aversion topic in the last chapter. I always bring up taste aversion when someone offers me tea! I am only joking; everything about the class is great. 

See you tomorrow!

Amber