"Porn is like… hardcore snuggling!"

No, no, no, Bridget. Not quite.

My Gender Issues class, which is essentially human sexuality, is giving me plenty of reading. Not only are we working through Y: The Descent of Man by Steve Jones, which is slow going for me simply because non-fiction takes a lot longer to read, but every class, the prof has at least one journal article for us to read. The good thing is, these are frequently hot-off-the-presses articles that were just published that day, week, or month. The bad (sorta) things is, we can’t just skim through these biology- or psychology-loaded articles; Dr. B likes to randomly ask people what these really long words mean, which means I live in the dictionary or on biology sites the entire time I’m reading, which slows down the process even further. We get damned good stuff, though, and have all sorts of good discussions ranging from biology to psychology, covering the spectrum on sexuality. Dr. B basically lets discussion flow from whatever questions we have from the last reading, and the man has slides for everything.

Our last reading (which I kinda didn’t do, because I wanted to sleep after the newspaper last night this morning) was titled “Structural and Functional Sex Differences in the Human Hypothalamus” (Swaab, et al. 2000). It provides evidence for a difference in the size of the sexually dimorphic nucleus of the preoptic area (base of the brain the hypothalamus area, if memory serves–he was flashing the transparencies rather quickly) between heterosexual and homosexual men. It’s an interesting bit of information, and (potentially) kills the idea of homosexuality being a choice any more than heterosexuality. Since, it seems, that idea is still lingering. I say “potentially”, because there’s still a chicken and egg question: is the SDN change in size a precursor, or an effect? That doesn’t seem to have been answered yet.

On Thursday, I was leaving class, and Dr. B says, “So, you’re from Mecklenburg, huh?” We had just had a discussion on the tendency for teenagers to lose their damn fool minds in the spring and decide to drive too fast, killing people. I mentioned the new North Carolina laws limiting passengers in vehicles with drivers under the age of 18, hence his knowledge of where my family currently resides. I clarified him on the matter of where I’m from, versus where my parents live, and he says, “You know, you’re an uncommonly bright young lady. How would you like to do some research with me?” His words, “uncommonly bright”. This, of course, is just before I was about to run off to do my chemistry research. So I agree to visit his office to chat today.

The chat consisted of us talking about our interests in psychology (like I’m qualified to have any!), and what he could offer in terms of research. Whoo. This man has data, and has easy access to lots more, in an area I am particularly interested in: intelligence. I could, of course, come up with my own research idea, and he would aid in gathering good data, but unless another idea pops up, I like the investigation into intelligence. He’s offering money (not much, probably, since I’m not on Work-Study), and the chance to visit conferences in Boston and Chicago should we find anything interesting in the data and write a paper. Of course, I would have to be presenting the paper we wrote, which is the downside. When he found out who my roommate was, he extended the offer to her as well, given her success in his psychology course last term. Whoo. Bridget and I are both excited. In fact, I’m fucking ecstatic.

The Thorn went very, very well this week. Even minus a story, we filled all our space, and had a good above-the-fold story, at that. I even, ahem, wrote a story (that link will be dead by 03/25), the review of The Passion. Not very well written on my part, but I think I got the point across, even in the shortened and edited version that printed. I wish the page layouts were on the newspaper’s website as well, as Bob outdid himself with a photo of the actor-as-Jesus’s face into which the two Christian reviews bled, and that was catty-corner from my boxed “secular” viewpoint. Very cool.

But I was on my game this week in terms of non-layout stuff. I didn’t blow up (or even get particularly angry) about the situation with one of the writer’s not being able to turn in a story this week. I just wish people told me these things (like that they were having problems getting ahold of the contacts) before the night before we do the paper. But, alas, c’est la vie. Layout was bland, and normal.

My car… Oh god, I’m such an ass. I killed my car. When I was in Indy last weekend, I tried to put in some (motor) oil, but couldn’t tell what the fill line should have been, since my car engine was still hot, but the oil was cold. Well fuck me if that wasn’t really the power steering reservoir, hence the distinction between hot and cold oil. I had no trouble on the way back from Indy, obviously, but I’m going to have to have the system flushed ($80), and I’m scared to drive it, in case I stir something up and get stuck in a bad way. Tack on to this my need to have the dieseling fixed ($70/h), and my need to do two to three weeks’ worth of laundry now because of a serious lack of skivvies, and we’re easily looking at least three paychecks, which means no food on weekends when the cafeteria is closed, and no transportation during Spring Break. Grr. I still can’t believe I fucked that up. At least it wasn’t a lot of oil (maybe two ounces). All my car friends are laughing at me. It’s not like the damn things were labeled, you know. Shit.

I did get to spend a bit of quality time chatting with Dr. McKnuckleberry today. I wanted to pick up the final portfolio from last term from his office, and ended up chatting about classes, my position on the Humanities’ Student Advisory Board, and, of course, books. In particular, DeLillo’s Underworld, which I own but haven’t gotten to dig into yet. Dr. McK is currently working through it himself, and loves it, despite the fact a DeLillo scholar friend of his makes him feel somewhat inferior. Now I’m chomping at the bit for Spring Break to come up, so I can hurry up with homework and get into the good stuff. Particularly since my ass won’t be driving anywhere. (Shit, I was supposed to go the museums…)

Wednesday evening, I was working in the Thorn office alone, and decided to listen to Bob’s Radiohead CD, “Hail to the Thief”. I am suitably impressed. I’d never listened to a Radiohead CD, and only knew the songs that hit the radio, “Karma Police” and “Pyramid Song”, both of which I like, and listen to on repeat when I can, and all that good stuff. But “Hail to the Thief” is damned good, if you like Radiohead’s slightly… drawn out (droning?) vocal style. The music varies well, and even if the lead singer isn’t doing anything experimental with the vocals, the different beats give each song a very unique feel. So I listened to the CD all Thursday night. On repeat, bien sûr.

In summary: yay for research, yay for Thorn, boo on unlabeled power steering reservoirs, and yay for Radiohead. I think that about covered it. Time to begin homework.

2 thoughts on “"Porn is like… hardcore snuggling!"”

  1. It has absolutely no relevance. It’s just funny. Bridget and I were chatting about… hell, I don’t even remember (this was a couple of weeks ago). Either porn or snuggling, obviously. She, in a very innocent, blonde Bridget-moment, busted out in the middle of an academic hallway with “Porn is like… hardcore snuggling!”. Which immediately sent me into giggles, of course. The use of the words “porn” and “snuggling” in the same sentence just amused me.

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