Terami.com Blog

While on tour in 2003, I met a lovely woman in Florida who's been struck by lightning more than once. We were sitting on her patio in the damp springtime heat, and she was describing how some people are more electrically charged than others. The conversation became tinged with certain New Age leanings, and I love that shit.

Of my least favorite things in the whole entire world, getting a static shock is high on the list. I can get them anywhere. Touching doorknobs, touching walls, turning on a lightswitch, changing the laundry, closing the car door, standing outside, touching glass, touching water (I swear), and even touching wood. Yes. Wood. I get them so frequently, I carry my keys with me inside the grocery store - and I touch the metal of the key on everything I pick up, including that bag of chips I so desperately crave. Before I play my keyboard, I have to take a metal wand and neutralize the static buildup by touching the stand and casing. In my studio, I have fabric softener in a spray bottle and I douse the carpet and chair during dry seasons. If I don't shellac my hair in the morning, it frays in preternatural directions because of the static, pricking me with tiny shocks throughout the day.

So, like any sane person would, I've developed a certain lifestyle around the not-touching of things. If at all possible, I especially don't touch metal. Kevin usually has to get doors for me, which sounds - Oh, so old fashioned! - but it's not. It's because I'm a psycho, afraid of the pain that a doorknob will bring.

Someone online had this observation: "Some people are more prone to static shocks than others. Maybe some people have better conductivity because they have more electrolytes in their bloodstream." Uh oh. I should totally stop chugging all that gatorade.

I've never been hit by lightning. And I'm not convinced that I'm an especially prime candidate for the occurrence. However, I can't deny that there's something about the electricity in my body that warps machines and electronics over to the dark side. Around me, beasts of wire have a decidedly short lifespan. It's a rather expensive problem. Fortunately, right now, all machines are up and running. So rare. So exciting. I should probably just be grateful that I'm a musician and not a forklift operator. Or a surgeon. Or an airline pilot.