The Twitch

by Nic Olson

My arm has been twitching for over 24 hours. I can’t tell if it is my muscles deteriorating to nothing, my dehydration, a nervous tick, the beginning of my mental breakdown or just my brain is sending signals to my right bicep instead of the creative part of my brain. All of them seem serious. None of them seem quite true.

When the body starts involuntarily moving in ways it never has before, it is like a coup d’etat of the body. First my arm decides it doesn’t want to follow my way, then it convinces the other arm, and they will eventually fully revolt and hold me in my room for good. Shortly after this they will meet up with my feet and convince them that my brain isn’t worth listening to anymore. Eventually my entire body will fight against my brain and overthrow it, so a new, fresh, ‘Yes We Can’ without the evil, leader/brain can lead this nation-body in a way it needs to be led. It all starts with an arm twitch.

A classmate, quarante-cinq year old Soo Ying, sat me down during afternoon break to tell me that she thinks I should drop out of French class and travel the world. She told me this in English of course. She made serious eye contact, used exaggerated hand motions, held my arm to show that she was speaking earnestly. She is conspiring with my twitching right bicep and my aching left heel. She knows.

What do most people do when certain upheavals arrive in their physicality? Prozac? Parenthood? Beer? I refuse to silence the twitch within, I acknowledge its presence and will defeat it by letting it defeat me. Twitches lead to riches.

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