Cognitive Dissonance

The psychology textbook meaning of this term implies true mental illness. But if you break down these two words and take them at face value, it's a perfect term to describe how much we're all on the brink.

Cognitive Dissonance. I like to think of it as mental clutter. You can't think straight because there are tons of conflicting thoughts and emotions competing for airtime in your own brain. Personally, I call it insomnia. Oh, and pregnancy hormones. (I hate it when people associate a woman's behavior with her period and this is something along the same lines. BUT in this case, it is actually scientific fact that there are several hormones produced and released during pregnancy that heighten emotional awareness, protection instinct, etc.).

Anyway, back to the internal cacophony. We're all a little ADD. Seriously, I'm not kidding. It' s the nature of life today. It's a pressure cooker out there. We have to accomplish more, more, more and faster, faster, faster. So it forces us all to sacrifice concentration and enjoyment of the small things sometimes so that we can keep pace at work, at home with the Martha Stewarts of the world, at religious services, with our friends. We have to look perfect, be socially aware, be emotionally available, prove our work ethic, find the love of our life, find all the in places and clothes, etc., etc., etc.

Right now, I'm feeling disaster fatigue. I have a lot of memories of New Orleans and the images and reports of anarchy, starvation, anger, etc. bear no resemblance to those memories. I feel strange that up here, life carries on as always, not much of a change in anything. I still have plans to carry forward, things to accomplish, arrangements to make. I guess this is what happened after 9/11 when we were all shell-shocked and the rest of the country was looking through plexiglass.

Just to clear my own head of all this dissonance, here's a list of some of my most memorable moments from New Orleans, in no particular order since I haven't got the energy for any order. (Note that I said memorable, not favorite).

--Being asked in the Canal Street McDonald's by a perfect stranger, "Do you know what time it is?" and receiving the answer, "Midnight. It's Valentine's Day," accompanied by a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

--Tripping over centuries old tree roots so massive that they have broken the sidewalks.

--Seeing cadillac-sized cockroaches get up and take flight.

--Looking out the window of my private office facing Lee Circle, where the streetcars turn into the French quarter, when I interned at my first ad agency.

--Spending half my Freshman year writing innumerable love letters to my first serious boyfriend after we broke up.

--Being afraid to walk through the open, creaking front door of my Fountainbleu Avenue apartment after being robbed of everything except my portable CD player.

--Passing out on the steps of the University Center after biking several laps around Audubon Park on a 95/95 August day.

--Picking my sorry self up off the floor after several unhappy forays into dating.

--Learning to be the suitor and winning the game.

--Theater majors.

--The Top of the Mart revolving bar atop the World Trade Center in New Orleans, replete with crimson walls, floors, curtains, lights and Peggy Lee tunes.

--The noxious stench of Bourbon Street morning till night, 365 days a year.

--Fried whole turkey, artichoke stuffing, frozen drinks with 7 kinds of liquor served in a bowl-sized goblet at Copeland's.

--All access passes to Fleetwood Mac at the House of Blues as a tip for selling Rayban Wayfarers to their manager. Getting lectured about smoking by Mick Fleetwood.

--Pecan Pralines (not peecan prayleenes, pacawn prawlens).

So many more, they'll have to wait for another day...