From WebMD Medical News, we have the article When It Comes to Love, the Nose Knows, which contains the following paragraphs:
Romantic love, she says, is related to abnormalities in the neurotransmitters serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine, making it biochemically similar to obsessive-compulsive disorder, a psychiatric illness where thoughts of a single subject dominate the patient's life.
Fisher has interviewed romantic lovers who tell her that they spend 85% of their waking moments fantasizing about their loved one. "In romantic love, we can't stop thinking about the person we're in love with," she says.
When you're in love, it's in your blood as well as in your head, according to research from the University of Pisa in Italy. Subjects falling in love resembled patients with obsessive-compulsive disorder in terms of neurochemical changes involving platelets, those blood cells involved in making blood clot and wounds heal.
interesting way of looking at it. I don't know if it makes me feel better or worse.
I swear to god there are like 50 birds mating outside my window.
Feeling karmically yucky, but also... right. Or maybe "justified" would be better. There's only so much I can take of some things, and denying, sublimating or just plain not voicing my own feelings of betrayal or disgust isn't healthy. Without wanting to sound stuck-up, the thing most people say they like about me best is that I'm frank and honest. But can you be honest if you protect someone else's feelings at the expense of what you really mean? Which is what I invariably do. So I feel I'm not being honest, then. But sometimes I just burst. Explode. Like this weekend. I was rude to a stupid customer, chickened out on a planned night out because I was too tired, instead of just going, shook off loving hands because I was too uncomfortable and bit someone's head off because it felt like they were rubbing their "suffering" in my face. Everyone needs an audience, don't they? I'm reminded of Guinan, in ST:TNG- "even the listener needs someone to talk to." I let it build up, and I shouldn't have had. I shouldn't have let that stupid jackass of a customer yell at me and then hang up in embarassment when i told him his WIFE had picked his stupid amp up, I should have just been polite and professional instead of sarcastic and telling him off; I should have definitively called off Brunny-night before Michelle made the trip downtown, when I knew I was too tired to take it; I should have told him the heat and the sweater and the hormones were making me claustrophobic long before I had the chance to snap or get angry (I didn't really know, but I knew I was getting short-tempered, he should have been warned); I should have told her long ago how hurt I was that I let myself be used like that, all to save an unhealthy relationship with my stupid ex. I should have done all these things and I didn't and in short, ladies and gentlemen, I feel like I've failed everybody this week.
Readin'
Listenin' to
Thinkin' about
Most recently I was 
