MIND TRICKS.

Ever feel like your brain is playing a game of hide-and-seek with your sanity? In my case when I'm with J, my brain decides to take a vacation, leaving me with the memory of a goldfish on a rollercoaster.? I forget my keys and phone in the car more often than a squirrel forgets where it buried its nuts. Not to mention sometimes I'm convinced my car has a secret agenda to test my memory. I blame it on her distracting beauty, she's just not buying it.

Anyway, my brain's like an overworked internet browser with more tabs open than a bargain hunter's browser during Black Friday. Problem is, most of them are as frozen Eskimos in Antarctica, and stuck in a perpetual loading loop like a hamster on a wheel. And there's this annoying music playing on repeat that I swear is from a parallel universe where chaos reigns supreme.

And yet my brain is capable of remarkable things, like remember every lyric from my favorite '90s band faster than a cheetah chasing its prey, or memorizing the perfume J was wearing on our first date, lock in it like a bloodhound on a scent trail.

Obviously is far from perfect, I'm taking about my brain now, (J if you are reading this, you are perfect), but knowing that your is vulnerable to biases and psychological “tricks” can help you to avoid mistakes and misunderstandings.

J complains a lot about me not paying too much attention with she is taking, or something like that, but in reality but in reality I have a cognitive distortion, my mind play tricks on me.

In my defense, I gently hinted to her that it might just be her fault, you know, because she's a woman. I mean, women have been pulling fast ones on us since forever.

From childhood, our moms fed us the line that we're indestructible, that we can conquer the world, and oh, how handsome we are, to adulthood where we're faced with fake eyelashes, fake nails, and even fake boobs!

Please know that I've got no qualms about fake boobs, they're like the cherry on top of the sundae of life. And of course, I wholeheartedly believe I'm devilishly handsome, I'm talking about the kind of handsome that even the Mona Lisa would raise an eyebrow at - after all, my Mom said so, and Mom never lies, right? So much so to send text reminders to J, several time a day, just to ensure she don't forget how dazzlingly good-looking I am.

My point is, women have been pulling the wool over our eyes since the dawn of time. Eve was the original trailblazer of womanhood.

While Adam was busy naming animals and things. Eve, on the other hand, had to prove she was more than just a sidekick in this cosmic tale.

And speaking of tricks, in order for me to eat green your really have to trick me, my relationship with greens It's like trying to convince a cat to take a bubble bath, but this past weekend was a whole new ball game, thanks to St. Patrick's Day. I mean,? I'm all about getting in on the party and incorporate?new holiday in my calendar.

J Irish roots run deeper than a leprechaun's gold stash, bless her little Irish heart and every other Irish part. So off we went, marching to the beat of a bagpipe to have dinner. Now, I don't know if it was the luck of the Irish or just J's persuasive powers, but she managed to coax me into dining on dishes that were greener than a leprechaun's envy.

You're likely familiar with the stereotype of "white people food": as exciting as watching paint dry, as thrilling as a lecture on lint collection. I mean, these dishes are so bland, so flavorless it could make you cry. I mean white people colonized half the world for spices and still don’t even use them, where’s the seasoning?. White people’s kitchen remains a spice-free zone. It's like they inherited the gene for seasoning and promptly misplaced it.

But this weekend I had a meal that shattered all my expectations. I never eat more green in my entire adult life, EVER.

Actually all I ate was green, so many spinach that I thought I was auditioning for the role of Popeye. They also threw in every spice and seasoning known to mankind.

I swear, my taste buds were having an identity crisis worse than a teenager going through their emo phase, my mouth was more confuse than my bowels during my first colonoscopy.? Things were happening inside of me, It was like having a circus inside me, but I couldn't tell whether it was lions roaring or clowns honking. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t sour, it wasn’t salty to bitter either. My mouth went from "ohh," to “uuuu," and "mmmaaa," with a sprinkle of "wait a minute." Suddenly, it hit me, I think I just have my first Umami.