Warning: Super Sensitive

My vocabulary wasn't anywhere near Vijay's, but I knew enough that I could maintain my class standing as a high achiever.  Every once in a while I tripped because of my haste, which was a problem that dogged me throughout school.  It is funny, when I think about it, because anybody who knows me now would never imagine that I was once a schoolboy who was always in a hurry to do his work!

In the senior classes, English was taught by a guy who later turned out to be one of the only two teachers who slapped me hard.  He has been dead for a few years now.  They say one shouldn't talk ill about the dead.  But, do people who say that know anything about history, where credit is given when it is due, and people and institutions are faulted when they need to be.  My experiences are my personal history, dammit!

Anyway, it was in the ninth grade, I think, when in a Q/A that was an oral class activity, I don't recall what I said or did but all I remember is this master-slapper calling me "super sensitive."

What he perhaps did not know is that he was correct.

As long as I have been aware of the world around me, I have always been super sensitive.

I have also been described as a shy kid.  And later, perhaps an introvert.  A loner. A wuss.

Source

A layer that makes all these more complicated is my level of empathy, which easily transfers other people's problems on to my mind.

Apparently all these together make me, in psychological terms, a Highly Sensitive person (HSP):

Check. Check. Check. ... 

Looks like I will score highly, if I were tested. 

Elaine Aaron, who phrased this HSP, has a website about it.  Of course.

That's me.  How did she know?
 (I did take the self-test.  And, ahem, off-the-charts, practically!)

When I look at those questions, I can't help but wonder:

• Wouldn't people prefer life without sounds of sirens, harsh bright lights, rough fabric on them?
• Wouldn't we want a life without violence and, therefore, wouldn't we want to avoid watching violence?  Okay, Tom & Jerry is an exception to the rule ;)
• Wouldn't people like to enjoy fine scents, tastes, sounds, and works of art?
• Why would people not want to have a rich inner life?
• There are people who do not want their kids to be sensitive?

Unfortunately, we now live in an age of trumpism where a person like me is a poster child for what's wrong with America.  To the tRump MAGA Republicans, cruelty is the point.

I don't understand, I cannot imagine, why we wouldn't want a population of empathetic, arts-loving, introspective people, who do not like violence of any kind.

A man's home is his castle, where the woman is a ...

 Take a look at the following funnies:

You see a pattern there?

Old man Earl is incapable of doing anything at home.

Haha.

Except, it is not funny.

For years, decades, I have been expressing concern, even worried, that young men and old men alike apparently think that they are babies who can't do anything on their own without their mama's or wife's help.    It is godawful. Pathetic.  This is, of course, way worse in the old country.  The difference between the US and India is merely in terms of magnitude; but those differences are like asking a drowning person if they would prefer to be a foot underwater or ten feet underwater.  

It is not funny that grampa doesn't really know how to make waffles, or that he is not allowed to use the stove.  It is not funny because I have seen one too many such men.

While men might even talk a good talk of equality, when the test is for the sponge meeting the dishes, well, talk is easy:

One study that amused me looked at various tasks and how they affected people’s satisfaction with their relationship. For women, it was all about dishwashing — if that task was shared, they were happier, and if they did all the dishes, they were discontent. Men were happiest when they shared errands, and least happy when they did more cleaning and laundry than their partner.

It is not that men do not do chores; take a look at the following chart :

Perhaps you think, "hey, it seems like there are some chores that men do, and some that women do."  If you think that way, well, think again.  How often does the yard need to be worked on, and how often do the dishes need to get done?

It’s striking to me how much chores break down along gender lines. The chores men do more of are usually outdoors, like car upkeep and yard work. The chores women do more of are indoors, like cleaning and cooking. But there’s a big reason men’s tasks are more desirable — the chores they do happen weekly or less often, and the ones women do happen daily or several times a day.

Grampa sets a bad example for the grandson, right?  Are you also concerned now?

So, what can be done?

Among other things, maybe "parents giving their sons as many chores as their daughters, or schools and pediatricians’ offices who need to reach families calling fathers, not just mothers."

Ahem, shouldn't that always have been the norm?

I hope that mothers will convince their young boys that real men aren't afraid of the kitchen and the laundry room, and that real men know what bed skirts and duvets are.

(PS: Studies show that this issue is less of a problem in same-sex relationships.)

Float like a butterfly, smell like ... Polo?

The projections are that California's Central Valley will be one of the hottest places in the country over the next few days as the heatwave takes hold of the weather.  Over the traditional final summer weekend, "Sacramento could be near 110 degrees on Labor Day." 

Back when I lived in that valley, of course I have experienced 100 degree days.  However, I don't recall such hot days in September.  But then anywhere on the planet the weather now is not what it used to be.

When I suffered in that Central Valley heat, I would often console myself that at least I didn't live in Phoenix or Las Vegas.  The  number of 100+ days where I lived was nothing compared to the conditions in those desert cities where summer news reports would include demonstrations of eggs being fried on pavements or on cars!

The people who live there always had a ready response: Hey, this is dry heat.  As in heat without humidity.

Heat with humidity defines Chennai anytime of the year.

Chennai, like seemingly all the places on this planet, appears to be getting hotter and hotter every year.  More than that heat itself, the humidity of this coastal city can suck the energy out of me in a matter of minutes. All I have to do is move just a little bit and I become a roaring fountain of sweat!

From the earliest years that I can remember I have been one hell of a sweaty pig.  As a kid, if I got close enough to my grandmother that my skin rubbed against hers, she always commented about my sweaty sticky skin, which, I am sure, was no fun for her.

And when the sweaty skin is not washed off after a while ... man, oh man, do we stink!

Once, when my brother complained about the stinking sweat—not my sweat, but in general—my great-uncle, who was known for his richly sarcastic repartee, commented, “let me know when it smells wonderfully; I will bottle and sell it by the ounce.”

In the traditional Brahmin weddings that I have attended when younger, particularly in Pattamadai and Sengottai, the male guests were always welcomed with sandalwood paste that many generously applied on themselves; there is an immediate cooling effect, and the sandalwood masks any stink from the sweat.  It was a social ritual that effectively eliminated body odors in large gatherings and, instead, spread the pleasing scent of sandalwood. Women wore plenty of flowers, jasmine in particular, which also played a phenomenal role in masking the natural odors that result from life in the tropical heat and humidity.

As much as I complain about sweating, I understand the wonderful role that it plays in cooling the body and nourishing the skin.  A natural moisturizer that keeps the skin healthy, as long as the grime is regularly washed away.

What I didn't know about sweat is the role it plays in promoting the good bacteria on the skin:  It prevents skin problems, like eczema, and protects from dangerous infections such as MRSA, which is found in hospitals around the world and is the leading cause of skin infections in the U.S.

No kidding!

Apparently there is also a personalization of the bacteria on the skin:

"The human skin has almost 200 different species of bacteria living on it," says biologist Teruaki Nakatsuji at the University of California, San Diego. "And each person has different strains of these bacteria. So the skin microbiota is so diverse."

These bacteria--especially in our armpits and around the genitals--produce intense stink.  And because we have different bacteria, our stinks are also different.  Some stink like onions while others stink like cumin!

That godawful stink producers--staphylococcus hominins--are also the ones that protect "our skin from inflammatory problems, such as eczema, and dangerous infections, including Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, or MRSA."

I knew about the importance of bacteria in our guts.  Now I know about the skin-dwellers.  What will we ever do without these critters!  Without them, we won't stink, but we will not be healthy either! 

If only scientists can make those bacteria produce aromas like Ralph Lauren's Polo though; I can be a walking cologne factory then, and my sweat can be bottled and sold by the ounce!