Porn Crazy

Reading this article called, and I kid you not, Is Pornography Driving Men Crazy?
What strikes me as bogus is that none of the studies cited compare men who watch porn versus men who don't. I can think of a lot of young men in my own circle of friends who would probably die of sheer embarrassment before watching something like that.
One of the things that I wonder if it is true is the claim that men are having more trouble with impotence and premature ejaculation because of porn. All those idealized images of men in porn would probably make any man feel less than, and I'm wondering if it's similar to the way models in fashion magazines encourage women to starve themselves in order to have the perfect body.
I also think it is really disturbing that hardcore porn is used to desensitize doctors and soldiers. There's something really awful about that, about the statement it makes on the kinds of people we're training.
Part of me really wants to poll my guy friends about this subject, though I think with friends like Jimmy and Nate, I'm not going to get very far.

Tea with Mark

Went out for tea with Mark.  He had finished a class in the early afternoon, and I figured that he would have another one in the late afternoon or early evening, but he didn't, so we talked about about four and a half hours.  There are so few people in my life I can talk to for such long periods of time, and Mark is definitely one of them. 
As usual, Mark and I spent a ton of time talking about poetry.  He and some other mutual friends are all right now into Ann Carson, and Mark showed me one of her books.  I had heard of her before, but I had never actually seen any of her poetry.  And I could see why he was showing it to me.  There was something very prosy about it, but also something inherently intellectual and academic.  They were tight little pieces.  He had borrowed the book from a friend, and we both admired her handwriting, which decorated the margins. 
We also talked about book design.  There's this one cover for a poetry book that we both thing is miserably bad.  I told him my idea for an alternative cover, one that did a better job of displaying the title poem and looked prettier. 
"Well, do you ever think about what you'd want your poetry books to look like?" he asked. 
Oh, of course.  I fantasize about it all the time.  I don't think I'm silly enough to believe I'll ever publish a book of poetry, but I think about it. 
"I usually think of the art for the book as being highly related to the content.  So, I'm working on some science-related poems, and I'd like the book to be decorated with old school science drawings, the kind you see in old textbooks." 
Thinking of it, I'd really like to see some of Mark's poetry.  It's been a while since I looked at anything of his, though, the more I think about what I saw, the more impressed I am by it. 
We also reminisced about classes we took.  I confessed that Emily was sort of turned off by the way he use to talk, which maybe I shouldn't have told him.  I followed it up with "But I defended you because you had just changed your major and we're probably still finding your feet," which was how I felt at the time.  Plus, I honestly felt like Emily was being a tad persnickety.  I love Emily, but this was one of the few times I disagreed with her.  Mark wasn't that hard to understand.  
I might have also admitted my momentary annoyance with Mark.  When we first met, I didn't really have any thoughts on him either way, because I didn't know him.  Then he started always sitting with me in class, and because I had lots of friends in this class I found myself wishing he didn't.  But after a week or two I realized I really liked him and that he was my friend.
This this weird tendency around here for things to be super intense super quickly.  Natalie once described this happening to her and Mike.  They met and BAM!  They were best friends.  This was what happened to Mark.  We spent very little time between acquaintance and mutual adoration. 
It was mostly quiet in the tea house, but this punk guy sat down near us for a while, while I probably talked poor Mark's ear off.  
Mark told me a little about his upcoming trip to Germany.  He told me that he had wanted to go to London, but because of the price of hotels, he decided not to.  Instead, he's going to live in a tiny town near the French border.  What exactly he's doing academically, I'm not sure.  He apparently speaks very good German, so I'm hoping that in addition to the usual fun travel stuff (getting to know a new place, meeting new people, speaking the local language) maybe he'll be studying German literature.  There's a lot of important work that was done in both German romanticism and expressionism. 
While we were sitting there, Justin's roommate, came in and said hi.  He recognized me because I had met him recently.
"Are you two dating?" he asked. 
It seems like Mark and I have been getting that one a lot lately.  Mark said no. 
"We're more like work partners," I said, thinking about how frequently we worked on various projects together.  An idea occurred to me.  "We're more like partners in crime," I said.  Justin's roommate sort of chuckled at us for saying that. 
Eventually, I had to cut our chat to an end because I was meeting Gary for sushi down the street.  When Mark had originally asked me for tea, I thought that I would have plenty of time in between tea and sushi.  I was going to go lock myself in a study room and try to write.  But clearly, Mark and I were having so much fun, I almost lost track of time. 
Gary wasn't going to let me though.  About ten minutes before my sushi date, he texted me that he was going to be two minutes late.  That's right: two minutes.  I found this weirdly funny, because I can't think of anyone who texts to say two minutes.  I don't even know if it's necessary to text if it's five, because it seems like everyone I know runs on a minimum five minute late schedule of some kind or another. 
Mark thought this was funny too. 
Three minutes later, Gary texted again to tell me he was going to be on time, and Mark and I both found this funny. 
"He's like that.  One day you'll have to meet him," I said.  I had already told him tons about Jimmy. 

Staying at Karl and Jimmy's

I stayed with Jimmy and Karl a couple of nights, and I was grateful that those two boys let me stay with them.  I was hoping it wouldn't be awkward for them, and mostly, I think it was fine. 
I was shocked at how quiet Karl could be in the morning.  I couldn't even hear him.  At one point, I happened to open my eyes, and there Karl was, standing at the door.  I think maybe he thought I was freaked out by him watching me, so he closed the door quickly, kind of like when someone turns away fast because they don't want you to know they were staring at you.  Maybe he thought I would be angry at him for staring?  Honestly, if it was certain other boys, then yes, I would be, but Karl's trustable, and I saw how he was looking at me, and it wasn't filled with lust or a desire to control or anything. 
The only bad thing about staying with those two are the alarms.  Those were actually very loud.  (Karl had early classes, which made me feel terribly sorry for him, because I hate early classes myself.)  At one point, after an alarm went off, I said something really sarcastic to Jimmy.  I think I asked him something along the lines of "Are you trying to get up on time or are you trying to break the sound barrier?"  Jimmy just sort of vaguely mmph'ed at me, and possibly turned over. 
Both of them snore, which didn't surprise me because boys notoriously sleep on their backs and that encourages snoring.  It was incredible quiet snoring, though, for both of them.  If anything, it was like loud breathing, and I found myself a bit conscious about the fact I was sleeping in the same room with them.  But at the same time I was struck by both the intimacy and how peacefully nice it sounded.  It made me revel in how calm everything was.  I found myself thinking about how I need to get a boyfriend, because these soft noises were definitely something I could enjoy waking up to. 
One morning Karl got up before Jimmy and I and head out to a class.  Jimmy and I got up around the same time.  Jimmy left for class and I went out for a walk.  It was a beautiful day, and I put in my MP3 player and admired the day.  And then ran into Karl, which surprised me, because I expected him to be on another part of campus, given he's an engineering major.  We spoke briefly.  He asked me what I was doing and I said I was out enjoying the beautiful day, which it certainly was.  The sunshine was making me smiley.  I was unsurprised to see he had coffee.  I think he was impressed by my choice of music that morning, which happened to be punk.  When I pulled my earphones out, he could hear how loud it was. 

Approaching an Answer

So, I asked Jimmy about the conversation I had at lunch yesterday.  His thoughts were that I was approachable only if someone knew me.  Otherwise, not so much. 
I realized as I asked him how naturally shy Jimmy is.  It's one of the many things I love about him.  I asked him if I had scared him away, and he said no.  But of course, at that point, I was already friends with Justin and Ryan, and we had those people in common. 
Jimmy did note that I'm usually the one to approach people anyway, which is true at least in some cases. 

Real Person Fanfiction

I told this story to Dan, Jimmy and Kristina, and I thought I'd share it with some of my other readers, since it's based on my experiences with real people.
"So, Alex is going to be a director and make movies.  Every time there's a premier, Nick is going to be all 'God!  Do we have to go to this movie!?!  Alex is a terrible director, and he's an even worse writer.'"
'He's not that bad.'
'Oh, please, you have no taste.'
But Nick will always still go, along with everyone else who likes Alex.  And every movie, there's going to be a character that is clearly based on Justin.  The person who will hate these characters the most?  Justin. 
'That Trustin character was hella annoying.  And fugly.  If I knew someone like that, I would just slap them in the face.'
I would turn to look at Dan and we would exchange a look.  'Justin,' I would say, as gently as possible.  'Trustin was based on you.'
'No he wasn't!  You're just being mean!'
'No, really, I think that-'
'You're wrong!  You're just trying to make me feel bad!' And then Justin would march out, slamming the door behind him.  And then-"
And then I stopped telling this story, realizing I was basically writing real person fanfiction.  Dan once told me that I read too much fanfiction and that it was affecting how I looked at people, and I must admit, it is changing how I view things.  But whereas Dan was viewing it as a bad thing, I'm thinking it's actually both a good and bad thing.  It's bad because, well, there's something really random and potentially creepy about these thoughts.  But it's also good because it allows me to take another angle at the people in my life.  It gives me a way of analyzing them but in a more creative way.  If that makes any sense.  Possibly this is one of those things that makes sense only to me, like my surreal poetry.  
And I think we should all be grateful that story was G rated.  I think we all know I'm capable of writing stories that are totally not. 

Saturdays in the Fall

I collapsed into Jimmy's arms.  It had been a while since I had a hug.
Someone observed to me a few weeks ago that Saturdays in the Fall are basically always holidays.  And today it certainly felt like it.  We were all going to watch football and hang out and have a good time.  Even my sister was in town.  She had asked me (me!) for advice on alcohol, so I got her some peach schnapps and orange juice and told her she was going to love Fuzzy Navels.  Most women do. 
The hallway flooded with various young'uns who were going to the game.  They were dressed in their gear, and I got hugs from people I knew, all surprised to see me there.  I met several of the new freshmen, one of whom is super proud of his Polish heritage.  Man.  Freshmen just keep getting younger and younger.    
Paul, Jimmy, Kristina, Dan and I all sat in Jimmy's room, chatting it up.  Apparently some of the freshmen girls decided to decorate people's doors with silly nicknames.  For example, they're calling Jeff Diesel now, which just weirds me out, because I went to high school with a boy nicknamed Diesel and I hated him.
The nickname thing brings up how I have lots of nicknames for certain friends.  I told everyone the story of how, over the summer, I had decided my superhero persona was The Giver, because I gave people nicknames.  And then I told Jimmy he should be my sidekick, Sensitive Man, because then he could tell me if my nicknames were insensitive or not. 
"And then," I said, finishing up my story "Jimmy goes 'Will you still call me Juicebox?'" Everyone laughed. 
"You know how you call me Honey?" I asked Dan. 
"Oh, I'm sorry.  Everyone in my family does that.  We call each other all of those names."
"Oh no, I'm not angry about it.  I was just going to tell you that I like it when you call me Honey.  It sounds nice in your voice." 
And then the conversation shifted to something else, and I never got a chance to tell Dan that I had been working on a nickname for him, and I was thinking about calling him Dan Nobilissimus.  It is Latin for most noble, and when I had been reading about it, it had kind of struck me as an appropriate faux title for him.  I had considered going with Christianissimus (Most Christian) after reading about the title for Kings of France, but decided that I'm unclear about Dan's religious beliefs, something more secular was in order. 
We decided to go out to one of the bars, so after getting all dressed in appropriate wear, we headed out.  (Nate had given me the key to his room by "accidentally" losing it in Paul's room.)  Being a pseudo-holiday, everything was in full swing.  Walking along, I was so excited and happy.  We stopped for a little while to hear the band play some songs.  I danced a little. 
We ran into Justin and talked briefly.  He looks great, as always.  I can't believe how adult and grown up he is. 
As we walked along, I even spotted one of my TAs from four years ago.  We greeted each other. 
We went really early to the bar because we were afraid of getting seats, but we waited less than five minutes for a hightop table.  The one lone guy standing there looked completely out of it, and his buddy came over and yelled at him.  (Something about a cell phone, it was hard to hear.)  And then they left, which of course means a woman came over and sat a large glass of beer in front of me. 
"Should I drink it?" I asked everyone.  Everyone voted no. 
We had a nice time.  I scared everyone right off the bat by drinking two shots of whiskey in a row.  And then following it with a Long Island Ice Tea. 
Being as I am a fan of Long Island Ice Teas, I have them a lot, and they are not all equal.  This particular bar had ones that made me happy, so I knew I wanted to have one.  Paul ordered one too, and I thought for a moment about how this was the bar where I first turned Paul on to these.  I know just about nothing about alcohol, so it's strange that anyone would take my advice on the subject. 
We watched the first half of the game there.  There was a lot of excitement and cheering.  I nearly hit a waitress in the face when I threw my arms out.
We had planned to leave at halftime and walk home, but Paul left early.  Paul's sometimes does that, and I didn't think anything of it.  I just enjoyed my wings, fries, and Red Headed Slut.  I've had really good Red Headed Sluts, but this one was terrible.
We did leave home at halftime.  I paid about twenty four dollars for four alcoholic drinks, pop, wings, and fries, which is by far the best I've done at a bar before.  This was gloriously good.
Meanwhile, behind us, several guys were hanging out.  They were drinking, but they weren't drunk.  One of the guys was getting his friends to slap him across the face.  When this group of guys saw that we were about to leave, they asked for our table, and we happily gave it to them.  After all, that's how we had gotten the table and I'm a big believer in East Lansing manners.
As we were about to leave, I turned to the guy who was taking slaps.  "Can I slap you?" I asked. 
"Sure!"
I pulled back and whack! right on his left cheek.  I aimed it perfectly, my fingers just hitting the area above his beard, getting my upper palm right on the thickest part of his face.  It pleasantly stung my hand.  Dan, Jimmy and Kristina looked at me like I was crazy. 

Aren't You Glad I Didn't Say Orange?

Now that I am of a certain age, I can legally drink.  When I say now, of course, I mean in the last couple of years.  Even though I come from various groups of people who have always had, ahem, healthy appetites for alcohol, I am moderate.  I drink infrequently, and usually only if it is at hand and cheap.  (Or, really, I should say, free.)

I took French for several years.  My second year I had French right before lunch, and I was always starving.  (And hating the class because that was my year of the worst French teacher I ever had.  Another story, another blog post.)  The poster you see to your left would hang in that classroom.  I would stare at it, wondering, what does Orangina taste like? 
Fast forward about four years: I have my first Orangina and fall completely in love. 
Fast forward to now: I'm writing a piece that mentions Orangina, and because I'm such a dismally bad speller, I have to Google it to figure out how to spell it.  I surf a little on their official site. 
And find an entire set of alcoholic recipes involving Orangina.  Isn't the Internet grand? 
So now I suppose I will have to buy some alcohol, if only to try some of these.  I'm eyeing the Parisian Sunset (because I've had such success with rum in Coke), Gina's Punch (for the same reason, plus my love of Grenadine), Le Sang Orange (which has a terrible name, making me think of orange-colored blood), and just for fun, a Twist and Shake.
Don't worry, I'll be responsible.  One drink at a time.  There's plenty of opportunities to try other delicious things.  And to encourage some of my friends, including my favorite teetotaler, Juicebox. 

Brunch at Ben's

Ben was gracious enough to invite us over for biscuits and gravy at his place for brunch.  I was hoping for the opportunity to see Daniel and Danny, two of the only people I hadn't seen yet on this trip. 
I made the mistake of telling Ben the day before about how I had met my first boyfriend online (in the dark days of the Internet, before Facebook or Myspace) at fourteen.
"Fourteen?" he had repeated.
"I was very sophisticated," I had said, which was a total lie.  I doubt I qualify as that now.  But my comment made Ben decide to play some old jazz music, which I enjoyed. 
I complained to them about the mosquito bites I got the day before.  Every time I'm out even at little at night in the Summertime, I get eaten up.  I had seven of them, mostly on my ankles.  
Ben's food, like Jimmy's, was delicious.  Again, those two boys can cook for me any time they want.  (Ben for breakfast, Jimmy for dinner.  Hell, I bet I could get Paul to handle lunch.  Then I would be the happiest and most well-fed girl in all the world.)  I was a little wary of the gravy, since I usually despise it.  But it was good, and it went well with the biscuits that Paul and Jimmy got for us.  And there was lemonade, so I was happy. 
Sadly, I couldn't hang around long because of all the drama going on at home, so I had to leave.  I missed seeing Danny and Daniel.  What a pity, right?  I haven't spoken to either of them that much since graduation. 
I went back to Nate's place, packed up my stuff.  I left a thank you note for Nate.  My Dad came, we loaded the car.  I got the weirdest feeling that I was missing something, so I kept checking my stuff.  I checked for my ID, money, jewelry, dresses, everything there.
So we went home.  It was uneventful back, but I was so tired by the time we got home.  All I wanted to do was to lay down.  We were suppose to go to a party for Alicia, who is going to MSU this coming year herself.  But I didn't want to move anywhere, plus it was raining. 
As I was looking to lay down, I noticed my pillow was gone.  And then it occurred to me.  I hadn't packed my pillow.  I had forgotten something at MSU.
Maybe this was a sign that I was, indeed, incapable of leaving MSU, because every time I was there, I kept forgetting to bring something home.  And not, say, my heart or anything like that but real stuff, like hoodies and locks and now my pillow.  Maybe this is a sign that I'm always going to need a reason to go back.  I felt like a moron.  I texted Nate, and he said he would guard my stuff. 
Then I finally laid down and got myself some decent sleep.  Couch surfing at Nate's was fine for a few days, but I wouldn't want to do it long term.  Not good for my back. 

Dinner at Jimmy's

I stood in Jimmy's room, trying to ignore all the signs of life that I would normally find interesting.  I was on the phone with my Dad.
"Can I come home a little later?" I asked.  I figured the answer would be no, because my Grandma was in the hospital, again.  And to some degree, rightly so.
"Why?"
"I got invited to a brunch with some friends."
"Okay."
I was relieved.  I wanted to squeeze out every last drop of goodness from this trip, especially since it looked like I wouldn't be coming home to anything good.  I had a bunch of business to attend to immediately coming home. 
This trip ended up being far more stressful than I thought it would be, mostly because the problems that I had last semester (my Grandma being sick, friends needing support, my various boy problems) all flared up again.  Mostly, it made me think that for all my trying to move on, nothing has really changed yet.  It's been a disappointment, to be honest.  I steeled myself to go back out to everyone.
Luckily, no one asked what the phone call was about.  Maybe, given what they know about me, they could have already guessed. 
Paul was working on shredding cheese for our meal.  Jimmy was cutting up onions.  There was nothing for me to do (though I offered to pay for my bit of the meal), so I watched.
"That's some great cutting," I told Jimmy.  It looked like the moves you see on one of those cooking programs. 
Jimmy didn't say anything, as usual.
"Jimmy won't take a compliment," I explained to Ben, who was sitting at Jimmy's computer in the living room area.  Ben laughed.  "I'm working on him."
Ben, meanwhile, was watching YouTube videos, everyone's favorite way to blow off time.  He told us he really liked Old Spice commercials, which sort of baffles me, because there's something gross and sleazy about so many of them.  We found one featuring everyone's favorite child star, Neil Patrick Harris.



Then Paul got on my political hero, Robert Byrd.  After looking awhile, we found what I consider his best speech, where he tells people he's older.  Ben watched it and said it was a really good speech.



Once Jimmy finished the dinner, we ate.  It was delicious.  Everyone fell silent as we ate.  Jimmy said that was a huge compliment in itself.  I'd be happy to have Jimmy cook for me all the time. 

Ben, it turns out, is a fan of Doctor Who.  Perhaps someone tipped him off to my love about it, because we got talking about it.  He was telling me he had just watched "The Lodger."
"That's the episode right before the two episode season finale."  Don't be surprised by this recall of mine.  I often am the one correcting people's knowledge of the show.
They were apparently showing that first episode of the finale, which I told him was good.  He was all baffled by my geekiness.  Get used to it, I thought.
We then started on the dishes.

Lunch with Paul

Nate and I had a long talk, mostly about relationships, and then we retired to our separate rooms.  Nate and I, I suspect, could really live together.  I think we get along swimmingly.
The next morning, we were waiting for a call from Jimmy, who was going to be able to tell us what was the what when it came to Paul visiting.  Paul was really the reason for this entire visit.  At the beginning of the month, Paul texted me, saying that he was going to visiting, and that maybe I should consider coming too.  Twenty minutes later, Nate texted me, also saying that I should come visit.  It took a bit of work, but I managed it.  And now I was finally going to see the person I wanted to see: Paul.
As I was waiting, I began setting out my stuff to retouch my toenails.  As I was just about to start, Nate got the call.  Paul was indeed here.  So we should all meet over at Jimmy's place.
When we got there, Jimmy cracked open the door.  There he was, his beard recently trimmed.  I hugged him and it felt so good and familiar.  And then I hugged Paul, and again, good and familiar.  Then next thing I thought was "Damn, Paul's lost some weight."  Like, at least ten pounds.
Ben was going to hang out with us too, so we walked to a Chinese food place via Jimmy's suggestion.  Paul joked about how Jimmy had taken Kristina to this same place for their dinner before the Honor's College Ball.  I hadn't heard this but I was sort of horrified.  I mean, I don't know if going out before hand is necessary, but seriously, not some hole in the wall with suspicious looking furniture.
It was broiling hot outside.  I was grateful that I had worn a light shirt and capris.  We sat inside, but I could feel sweet build on my forehead and above my lips.
We ordered food.  We ate.  We watched this scary television program they were playing in the restaurant.
I haven't seen Ben in a while, and he announced he's going to graduate school in Sweden.  Ben has Swedish ancestry, so this isn't totally strange, but he doesn't speak Swedish.
I have personally considered going to England or Canada for graduate school, but the idea of going to Sweden (or any other non-English speaking country) has never occurred to me.  Apparently you don't need good grades either, as Ben assured me.  I would like to go somewhere far away for graduate school, but this has problems too.  One one hand, I like traveling and having adventures and being far away means my parents are more likely to keep their distance.  On the other hand, I'll be far from my friends, and I want to be around them.
After we ate, we headed over to this record store that I frequent.  Again, I found myself thinking about how I hadn't gotten to do so much in college.  I had a whole fantasy involving going to this store with a young man, going back to his place and putting on some spacey records, laying on our backs and having one of those long conversations that you have with someone you love.  And then being totally junior high and making out.
As you can see, in addition to having a real life, I have a pretty active fantasy life.
We mostly talked while in the store, though Ben got excited when he saw some stereo equipment on sale for a good price.
"If you don't buy it, it's like you're losing money," I said.
"Yeah, that's exactly how I feel!"
I don't really know Ben as well as the other boys, and maybe that's another failing on my part.  I seem to have managed not to do anything right in college.