they attached a device to the rat's brain, a device that stimulates the pleasure/reward center (nucleus accumbens, same in us as in other animals) when the rat pushes the button. the rat will ceaselessly push the button. when it comes down to going for the food and water or going for the little lever that provides instant gratification the rat will essentially starve himself. he just has no time for food or water as has to keep pressing the button and getting the stimulus. the rat doesn't know why, and even when it makes less and less sense...when it becomes contrary to that most basic drive of perpetuating its own existence, it HAS to just KEEP PRESSING THE BUTTON.
the nucleus accumbens is larger/more affected by reward in gamblers, crackheads, heroine addicts. they don't know why anymore but they have to keep pressing the button...maybe it'll be enough one of these times...even when they're poisoning their own existence and alienating others in the search. in this way we recognize the self-poisoning nature of the brain, of ourselves. somewhere the machinery goes wrong, for so many people, in so many different ways and to different extents. but really we're just haplessly trying for more, inevitably coming up short and feeling vaguely cheated, though for no reason we can exactly point to. we're all just trying to get by, trying to make sense of this sometimes terrifying existence thrust unknowingly upon us. we keep fumbling to reach out to others, keep sending our vibrations out into the void, hoping something will resonate, essentially asking "you're scared too? and i'm not crazy?" we do this largely without seeing that only part of the beauty is in the connection made, but another mostly unglimpsed part is just how beautiful the fumbling itself is. oh this absurd human drama unfolding. i'm so glad to be here, right now. i'm glad the world is here to lend itself to my viewing. i'm glad for the song just drifting by waiting to be heard.
the nucleus accumbens is larger/more affected by reward in gamblers, crackheads, heroine addicts. they don't know why anymore but they have to keep pressing the button...maybe it'll be enough one of these times...even when they're poisoning their own existence and alienating others in the search. in this way we recognize the self-poisoning nature of the brain, of ourselves. somewhere the machinery goes wrong, for so many people, in so many different ways and to different extents. but really we're just haplessly trying for more, inevitably coming up short and feeling vaguely cheated, though for no reason we can exactly point to. we're all just trying to get by, trying to make sense of this sometimes terrifying existence thrust unknowingly upon us. we keep fumbling to reach out to others, keep sending our vibrations out into the void, hoping something will resonate, essentially asking "you're scared too? and i'm not crazy?" we do this largely without seeing that only part of the beauty is in the connection made, but another mostly unglimpsed part is just how beautiful the fumbling itself is. oh this absurd human drama unfolding. i'm so glad to be here, right now. i'm glad the world is here to lend itself to my viewing. i'm glad for the song just drifting by waiting to be heard.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
unique3:
wow. that's deep.
pmonkeyesquire:
very amazing entry. you brainy!