Rhinotillexomania!

I pick my nose. I'm fairly discreet about it. If I'm in the car, I try to work the angles with the cars around me so no one has to see me doing it. I most often do it in the privacy of my own home, often in my bed with the lights out or during my "time with God" in the bathroom. I'm not sure why I'm so careful about it, though.

What is it about nose-picking that is so taboo? The typical reaction to catching someone in the act is equal parts revulsion and amusement. Is it because it is essentially the elimination of waste? In our minds, is it akin to witnessing someone urinating or defecating? Primates pick their noses constantly. They usually eat it, too, which is not part of my regimen. Although, to be fair, there is a lung specialist in Austria who claims the immune system is boosted in kids who eat their own boogers. I'll take his word for it.

I read somewhere once that people who pick their noses regularly are on the whole more relaxed, carefree, happy individuals. Why would that be, do you suppose? I have a theory on that, actually (of course I do; did you really think I was going to spend an entire blog talking about picking my nose?). See, nose-picking is a harmless activity. Sure, there's all sorts of talk about damaging membranes in the nasal cavity and increasing the risk of infection to the brain blah blah blah. It's not an activity that is generally accepted by society. It is possible, then, to define nose-picking as an antisocial behavior.

Now, if you ask me, it's just not healthy to follow the rules all the time. I think that's how sociopaths are born. It's necessary sometimes to thumb your nose (Hah! Get it?) at the mores and do your own thing. I encourage this sort of thinking. As long as you are bringing no threat of harm to yourself or another person, game on. Those who really get up in there and remove nuggets of joy are doing what they are doing despite what society says or thinks. Think of how repressive our society has become. What's an id to do? There is no room for a pleasure principle in today's world, and man cannot live with ego and superego alone. You can't pause to look at a beautiful woman's ass without being reprimanded, usually by the woman herself. We can't say what we think. We can't eat what we want. We can't fart or belch or laugh too loudly. We can't scratch our butts. We can't do anything that isn't in perfect lock-step with everyone else unless we have been elevated to the status of "celebrity", but then there's a whole other set of rules that apply (and a topic for another blog). Many in our society seem to have resigned themselves to the new world order, shambling along with their eyes downcast and tight scowls tugging at the corners of their mouths, dried mucus crackling in their nostrils, never to be plucked free. These are society's prisoners. These are the unhappy potential stroke victims. These are the ones who are worried about everything. These are the ones for whom Orwell is a work of non-fiction.

Chicken Little was not a nose-picker, but I'll bet Foxy Loxy was.

So, Rick's prescription for happiness? Pick your damn nose every once in a while. Trim your nails, sit back, let your eyes glaze over a little and let nature take its course. You're telling society you're the one in charge, and there's just no better feeling than that.