So I Have Synesthesia

When I was little, I liked to play a game. I would collect all my friends' names and recite to each of them what food their names reminded me of. For example, in kindergarten, I told Hayley her name tasted like wheat, and Carly that her name clearly tasted like mushrooms, and my friend Arimi (who had an admirably unique name) tasted vaguely like white grape juice. To me, this was second nature, and needed not be questioned. Of course, to everyone around me, including my own family, this was overtly bizarre, and would often make me a spectacle, a subject for analyzing.

I was no stranger to being ostracized as a youth. In kindergarten (a big year for learning I was odd), I was placed in a higher reading group than the rest of the kids, and would be sent to a first grade classroom for English. In 3rd grade, I was tested for the GATE program and passed, which put me in a category of kids that were put in higher level everything, including science and English; we were even sent to learn Japanese for about a week. This is by no means to toot my own horn, mind you; on the contrary. With all this higher academic treatment came a natural separation between me and all the other kids. I was looked at as some special snowflake by my peers as opposed to a relatable friend. I was something other than normal. So this whole "tasting words" thing to me was just one other way I was different. I swallowed that bitter pill early on.

Throughout the next decade or so, this was just a known fact about me, accepted in the most blase manner possible by my friends and family. I'd bring it up every now and then when it seemed appropriate and then the house would murmur with "Oh yeah, Amelia tastes words." Kind of more of a quirk than anything of particular note, not unlike Phoebe Buffay.

In my junior year of high school, my friend Min (which tastes like having chewed on a big handful of mini M&M's) was starting a new unit in her psychology class  and telling me about what she had learned, because at this point, I had really begun to become fascinated with all things psychological. I really should've taken psychology classes myself, but that's besides the point. She had gone on to tell me about a certain disorder in which people can see colors when they hear music, which I thought I recalled hearing about somewhere before. I listened casually, munching at my lunch. "Oh, and apparently there are some people, but it's like, really rare, that taste words." My ears perked up. "Yeah, I guess like, some people think of different foods when they hear certain words or something. I don't know. But a really small percentage have it." Whatever guy was sitting with us at the time made feign interested sounds. I sat up a bit. "That sounds weirdly like me." I stated, pretending it was no big deal. As I said it, I could tell she didn't believe me, because if this really was all that rare, the odds were good that she wouldn't know one, and that I was probably just trying to be special. So I backed off. But the more she talked about it, the more I related. She said the name, but it was some long, difficult to pronounce word. "Syn"-something.

Later on, around senior year, I stumbled upon the disorder again. Synesthesia. Oh my god. I have synesthesia. I started looking at little videos about what it is and started googling what it meant. This wasn't just some signature Amelia thing. This was a real thing. And apparently, this was one of the rarest kinds of this particular disorder.

What I have, I've discovered, is lexical-gustatory synesthesia (yikes, that's a mouthful). According to Wikipedia, "Approximately 2%- 4% of the population has some form of synesthesia", which in my quick research, I've noticed a majority of those people are famous musicians who see color when they hear music. And being a musician myself, I can see where they're coming from. I have playlists on my iPod separated by colors they sound like, primarily blue, purple and red. But it's not nearly as distinct as some celebrities have described. "An even smaller percentage," Wikipedia goes on, "around 0.2% or lower, have lexical-gustatory synesthesia." Whaaaa...? When I read that, I had to take a moment to stare blankly off into space and let that sink in. 0.2%. That's freakishly low. Thus making this a much less relatable condition. Of course it doesn't sound like a real thing when I talk about it. Of course I've never met a single human being who understands this firsthand. I can talk to people about how a G major sounds blue and how a B flat sounds dark yellow, but how can I begin to get on common ground with people about how the word "language" tastes like a turkey sandwich?

The only other person I've heard word of having this condition as well is the actress Tilda Swinton, who I know nothing about other than her clear artiness. Evidently, Swinton has explained her case to others using the example of "word" tasting like gravy to her, and "table" tasting like cake. I can tell you firsthand that this isn't the case for me. "Word" has a more sweet flavor for me, like frosting, and table is more like lunch meat. *Shrugs*

There aren't any real benefits to having this other than having something to say when someone asks for an "interesting fact about you". It's a good conversation piece. It's  good excuse for overeating (naturally after listening to lectures and hearing hundreds of words, I'm always inexplicably starving). It's a way for people to think you're cool without expending any effort. But other than that, it's more something I keep to myself, as it doesn't at all effect others. But there you go.

I AM THE 0.2%!