Like a Record, Baby

Standing desks are hippie-dippie crap.  Just because you want to lessen your chances of fatal cardiac arrest one day, I have to hear you and your stupid call as you talk way too loudly over the cubicle walls.

That is not the topic of this post, but a mere introduction.  I, too, feel my fragile physical form atrophying as I sit in a chair for hours.  And so, partially out of concern for my musculature, partially because I can’t bear to hear standing desk guy talking loudly on his eternal call anymore, I venture forth into the harsh and unforgiving wilderness that is the paved perimeter of the building.

I started taking walks whenever I had the time very early in my employ at this company.  And now, years later, I again went walking, but this time with someone else.  I’ve done that before of course–I’m not an antisocial weirdo.  But apparently I always take the lead, for on this occasion, upon our mutual egress from the edifice, she turned right–a direction I had never considered.  She wished to circumnavigate the building in a clockwise direction.  I implored her to rethink her rash and unwise decision, but nay said she, for the wild called to her in that direction.

Actually I think she just said she wanted to go that way, followed by a rhetorical question along the lines of what the hell was wrong with me.  And I, being the eternal gentlemen, acquiesced.  Then, 10 steps into the walk, I collapsed from an anxiety attack.

Which brings me to my question: why are sporting events which involve circular autotransference always done so in a counterclockwise direction?  Once again I sought the Holy Oracle for its wisdom of the collective consciousness.

Google quickly directed me to several sites, wherein the answers were many.  Explanations included but were not limited to: Coriolis effect, faster movement in relation to the planet’s rotation, more natural for the majority right-foot dominated athletes, and the interpretation of chronology as athletes moved from left to right from the perspective of the spectators.

But I recall an X-Files episode in which a buried naval antenna, miles long, generated ultra-low frequency radio waves for communication with deep-sea submarines.  Except, this being the X-Files, there were unanticipated consequences, and local residents suffered some sort of explosive decompression of their inner ear if they stopped moving–some sort of bone-resonance in relation to the antenna.  The guest actor was the guy who played the Breaking Bad dude.  Anyway, things didn’t turn out so well for Breaking Bad dude, the navy denied any wrongdoing but mysteriously shut down the antenna, and Mulder got the usual berating from FBI Assistant Director Skinner (or maybe it was his new boss after he was officially removed from the X-Files).

It is therefore my preferred theory that my panic attack was not due to some simple neurological disorder like OCD, but rather that, let’s say, the gel in my inner-ear is in resonance with the earth’s rotation and it causes me physical pain to travel clockwise.  One day, I will travel to the southern hemisphere to confirm this theory.

For now, let’s take a walk, and turn left dammit!