I admit it; I’m addicted to adrenaline. I even spent a season wearing a rubber band that I plucked when I was tempted to over-indulge in some way in an effort to get an adrenaline rush; the idea was to inflict pain on my own wrist to begin creating a negative association with my desire for an adrenaline rush. It didn’t work… I liked the pain. Just kidding. I don’t know why it didn’t work. Then again, I can’t remember why adrenaline-seeking is so bad for me/us.
I was one of those kids that would ride the amusement park ride that threw you up against the wall with centrifugal force (and was proud to know that word at seven) over and over. I liked being dizzy. I liked hanging upside down. I took dares. I did goofy things.
I’m wondering in adult life when we can’t really ride the Kamikaze or the Cliffhanger or the Helter Skelter every weekend if the next best thing is spicy food? We take our thrills where we can get them in mid-life.
Have you ever perused a selection of hot sauces? My local burrito joint has a “Wall of Flame” from which one can select the hottest sauce they dare try. There seems to be a competition for the scariest, most daringest (made-up word) hot sauce. HOW HOT CAN YOU GO?
How about this sign? R—- rocket fuel, anybody? (I’m not afraid of that anatomically correct word. I’m afraid of spammers finding it and making lots of non-edifying comments on my blog.)
The whole genre is full of things that challenge, inflame, rile up, enervate, and aggravate the senses. They have names like “California Screamin’,” “Ass in the Tub,” “Scorned Woman,” “Toxic Waste Extract Hot Sauce,” and “Colon Cleaner.”
As I said, I like adrenaline. I like shocking my senses. I like scary movies, getting freaked out in “haunted houses,” drama, fast cars, and spicy, spicy, hot sauce (though sometimes I like to sit in a chair and not be bothered all day, reading and staring at the ceiling.)
How about you? Do you prefer calm and mild or hot and adrenaline-filled? And is it a metaphor for your life in general?