There is a cozy little tapas bar in the Ithaca Commons, "Just a taste!". It isn't my favorite tapas place(Cafe Iberico is!), but I loved going there for one main reason: samplers! Tapas in themselves imply taste portions of incredible delicacies, but this little place also offered flights of wine in taste portions. It was an invitation to indulge in everything you desire, but in moderation. Say you got that crispy cauliflower in yogurt sauce and realized you didn't quite like it, that's okay, because the portion was just large enough to grab a taste of, but not so much so that you had to finish it even if you felt sick.
In some ways this is how I feel about boys. I think I'm excited to taste but afraid to order the whole entree. In a recent conversation with myself (because I do that sometimes to rationalize things), I had an epiphany. My longest relationship has been with Biomedical Engineering (BME). It's been seven years and going strong. And that too is because you can taste several engineerings in one bite of BME. Now, I know what most of you are thinking. Am I really going to compare real life with food? So for you, even though it's a completely valid comparison, I'll add some science to this. With the food example it may sound like this desire to taste is just a want, but with science, perhaps I can prove that it is actually a need.
Last week I was exposed to many many brilliant minds in the beautiful city of Washington, DC. Now now, hold on to your chairs, because I don't mean the politicians. I am actually talking about the great neuroscientists who unfold the mysteries of our brains. Dora Angelaki is one such scientist. She gave a talk on the importance of sensory integration. In her introduction, she explained that the significance for sensory integration lies in its ability to reduce noise and to avoid ambiguities. Her example was about the pilot who is accelerating through the clouds and is unable to tell the difference between flying upwards and plummeting downwards because his vestibular input can't separate the tilt and the translation. Without his visual feedback, the input signal is both noisy and ambiguous. By the time his head is out of the clouds (no pun intended), it's too late to correct this mistake and the plane crashes.
Perhaps my fear to commit is not irrational. Maybe when I meet my chocolate covered strawberry I'll know. Maybe all my senses with be in sync and I'll be able to make that weird promise called "love". But that time isn't now. I'm still juggling two-week crushes and quirky dates. I'm still enjoying getting hit on during Saturday night extravaganzas. I'm still loving to taste without the after taste.
Plus, I truly believe what the Blakes have sung!
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