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.

Malta

...So despite my love of European history, I really don't know anything about the country of Malta, other than it was once controlled by the British and is hardcore Catholic. To fix this oversight, I sat down and read a short article on traveling to the country.

History Things I Learned:

Carthage and Rome duked it out for Malta. Obviously, the Romans won in the end.

St. Paul brought the christian faith there, like he seemingly did everywhere else in the Mediterraean.

During the Middle Ages, the island was controlled by Muslims. Again, not a surprise as other parts of the Mediterraean was controlled by Muslims, most famously southern Spain, but also southern France and parts of coastal Italy.

Napoleon, a native of next door Corsica, conquered the island and stole pretty much anything he could, which is what he did elsewhere, like in Egypt.

Lord Byron traveled there. I wonder if that trip was related to his infamous Greek trip that ended so badly. Also, he complained about the streets, which totally sounds like him, because he's such a whiner.

I could probably conclude here that Malta is basically like its sister European countries in terms of history, but this might be simplistic.

Amazing Side Notes:

They have a Popeye theme park. I don't really know what to make of that, but if I ever go there, that might be a fun place to go, though I suspect I would go just to say that once I went to a Popeye theme park.

Maltese is a blend of Italian and Arabic. Sounds like my sort of language.

Awards Night

So, Erin was lucky enough to win an award, so I (with some of her other friends) went to support her.
There were all sorts of awards.  Bobby, for example, won an award for an essay he wrote, though he wasn't there to receive any praise.  Another young woman I occasionally talk to won an award for an essay she wrote on Pacific Islander fiction, which I know nothing about.  I'm particularly proud of Bobby, because he once told me that I had a positive influence on him.  When I first met him, I didn't think anything like I'm going to positively influence this boy, but I guess that's the way life worked out. 
For prizes, in addition to money, they gave away seed packets, which I really liked.  It's almost it's own metaphor: at school, teachers and books plant ideas in you; now you have seeds to literally plant.   
I had classes in this particular building, and at one point, I heard the nearby bell tower chiming, and it reminded me of one class I had.  It was in the morning, and I remember how much I enjoyed the quiet walk there, and how I was usually the first one there.  It was so warm in this room, I would usually go over to the window and open it up, and somehow, this was unintentionally timed to correspond with just about the time that same bell tower would chime. 
Erin got an award for creative writing, and she read a short piece about herself.  It was about how she doesn't like to be touched.  (I need to write on this same topic, now that I'm thinking about it.)  She read really fast, and honestly, I don't think anyone in the audience really got all of it. 
Erin tends to write longer pieces, which aren't really conducive to the format.  (Other winners, including Lia, were reading poetry or performing small pieces from a longer play.)  Erin needs to pick shorter pieces and she seriously needs to slow down.
I did get to see the professor in charge of screenwriting.  Erin had complained, in passing, that he wasn't much of a creative writing teacher but more of a public relations/advertising kind of guy.  The moment I saw him, I whispered to Erin "Seriously?" which made her choke and laugh. 
After the ceremony, Erin revealed that her parents and uncle were in town.  And she hadn't invited them to the awards night.  This surprised me a little and then it made me sad.  I would give anything to have my parents come to something like this, but they wouldn't.  Not that I'm ever going to win an award, but I would never not tell my parents about something like this, especially given that they were here anyway. 
They were at the coffee shop across the street, so a group of us walked over there.  I had never met Erin's parents before, but some of the other friends in the group, like Liz and Jon, had. 
Erin has told me a lot of stories about her parents over the years, so I thought I would know them better than some of my other friend's parents.  And there wasn't anything about them that struck me as a lie on Erin's part, but I had always imagined them differently. 

For example, I had always imagined her Dad to be tall, almost entirely bald, and had little tuffs of white hair, which he wouldn't comb and would stick out all over the place.  I imagined he'd wear glasses.  And be overweight.  Basically, I imagined George Bluth, the Grandpa, from Arrested Development. 
Instead, he was shorter.  And his hair was sandy, and possibly he had a comb-over, because it looked strangely similar to Donald Trump.  His face was wider instead of longer.  He didn't wear glasses.  And there was something Hobbit like about him. 
The other thing about him was that I imagined he would speak like Erin spoke, which is to say, like me.  But he had a distinct accent, something I've heard people refer to as a Yooper accent.  Erin hates that term, and I can understand why.  I would describe his accent as sounding something similar to a Finnish American. 
I imagined her Mom would look almost exactly like her, only older, but she was shorter and very slim and her face was longer than I had imagined.  She actually looked similar in appearance to Erin's brother. 
And her Uncle looked a lot like her Dad, except he had long hair.  Come to think of it, he looked a lot like I imagined Erin's brother would look like, before I had met him.   
This is a good example of why I want to meet people's families.  I want to know everything I possibly can about my friends, and their families are an important part of their lives.  And because my imagination is clearly off. 
Erin introduced us, and her Dad clearly remembered Jon and Liz.  We spoke briefly.  There were some awkward pauses, which I guess I should of expected too, but there was something about having the quirkiness of Erin's family confirmed that made this funny to me.  Erin was right, they were different, but in ways that I hadn't considered.  They were looking for somewhere to eat, and someone suggested one of the local bar and restaurants, so we trooped over there.
It wasn't really that late yet, but the bar at this place was totally full.  We had a big group so we got a long table for ourselves.  I sat near Carrie, Erin's brother, and Erin's Mom.  I ordered a burger and some drinks. 
I tried to make conversation.  Carrie and I talked about future plans.  I tried to talk to Erin's brother about what he was studying and where he lived, since these were some of the few things I knew about him.  He was sort of hard to talk to, not because he was mean, but because he didn't offer much.  I was hoping maybe he would talk about his program, since I had friends who were part of the same thing.  I asked him if he liked where he lived, but he didn't have much to say on the subject. 
I racked my brain for other things to talk about, but I really couldn't come up with much.  I remembered Erin complaining about the Bart Stupak controversy last year, and remembering something she had mentioned about him, I asked her Mom about it.  This turned out to be a mistake because Erin's Mom did not have the same political views as Erin, which I thought she did, because of the way Erin talked about her family's politics. 

Poetry Reading

So, picking up where I left off on my last little story, I went to the poetry reading and did manage to surprise this professor.  It was sort of a relief to finally have achieved this surprise without too much ruining it. 
There is always this table in the back to the theatre where they sell poetry books and sometimes other stuff, and I was back there talking to Stephanie and Lia.  At one point they both looked over my shoulders and said "hey Mark!"
I turned around and, indeed there he was.  When I saw him last, his hair was a light blonde and it was close shaven.  Now he had grown his hair out, it seemed darker, it was highlighted, and he had a goatee.  I was kind of surprised by this change of look, because he had changed his look not that long ago. 
"Hi," I said, a big grin spreading across my face.  I was very happy to see him.  "You're looking very Renaissance." 
I mean, obviously he wasn't wearing the tights and those poofy pants that Shakespeare rocked so well, but I think he understood and took it as a compliment. 
Mark was surprised to see me as well, which was unintentional, since I wasn't even sure if he was going to be around tonight.  But I was glad he was.  We got to talking, shuffling off to the side to let people in.  We did the usual small chat and then talked about a teacher we had together.  I had seen this teacher recently and I reported to Mark that said teacher remembered him. 
This was not the whole story, but I was reluctant to tell him the whole thing.  When I saw this particular teacher, he had asked about Mark and I.  And by asked, he simply said "So, how are you and Mark?"  There was this terribly awful pause and then I realized this teacher thought we were dating. 
We aren't. 
The truly bad thing is that this is not the first person or even the first teacher to comment on Mark and I, which makes me a bit uncomfortable.  It's one thing when your friends know you like someone.  That's normal, especially when you make your preferences to them known.  But it's another thing entirely when it's just people you work with or teachers.  My feelings aren't meant to be so obviously to the world. 
As Mark and I were talking, Lia came over to commend us for not talking so loudly.  This was a problem I had last year.  (Actually, it's been a problem I've had forever, but it became of particular issue last year.) 
Derek came by, and it was my turn to be surprised.  Derek graduated ages ago, and although it wasn't a complete surprise to see him, it hadn't crossed my mind that I would.  He sort of looked at the two of us strangely and I realized that he was probably thinking the same thing as everyone else. 
I guess it's a good thing I didn't pursue a career in acting?
Mark and I decided to sit together.  We walked down to some seats near the stage.  As I sat down, I noticed another teacher from a few years back sit down.  He was surprised to see me, and I nicely waved at him. 
On a whim, I turned to Mark and said "So, how's your girlfriend?"  I couldn't remember her name, though I remembered she was a redhead, very pretty, and very slim. 
Mark looked a bit surprised and uncomfortable, but he said "We're not dating anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
This was sort of a lie.  On one hand, I've had enough bad breakups that I know it hurts like hell, and can actually make things between other friends miserable.  (And has gotten to the point where I'm usually apathetic towards dating.  It takes a lot to get me interested in a guy to the point where I want to date him, and frankly, liking him isn't enough for me anymore.  I have to trust him, and the vast majority of guys I like never pass into trustable.) 
On the other hand, I do like Mark, and she was the reason I didn't pursue him earlier.  He was already dating her when I met him.  It was sort of a disappointment, but I promised myself years ago that I would never encourage a couple to break up.  If the guy really does like me, he'll realize it isn't fair to date someone else, and he'll do the breaking up on his own, regardless of whether or not he knows I'm willing to date an unattached version of him. 
The reading was starting up, so I didn't question Mark further.  I don't know if there would be that much to say either.  I think I would have just graciously offered to hear Mark out if he needed someone to talk to (always something I've needed post-breakup) but then also make clear he was under no requirement to talk to me if he didn't want to. 
The reading went okay.  I really like this professor, and the poetry she has been writing the last few years has been super intense and Wallace Stevens like.  I've been very impressed by it, especially since it was such a departure from her earlier work. 
Which is why I was kind of disappointed that she read her less challenging poetry.  She read more of prose stuff, not her deep image stuff.  She read one poem about sheep blocking a road, and I thought about how that was the sort of poem that would please non-poetry people. 

After the reading, I introduced Mark to Derek.  Mark and Derek both happen to be big fans of Arrested Development.  I told Mark about how Derek and I use to refer to one another as "Hey Hermano," which is a reference to the show.  (There's actually a slightly longer story there, but one I won't bore you with.)
Mark and I continued talking, slightly in the corner.  I told him about my roommate fiasco from a few months ago.  I told him about how I was raised by a master of passive aggressiveness, who was also raised by a master of passive aggressiveness, so really, I was quite good at being that way. 
"I can make anything sound passive aggressive," I said.  "Even something like 'yeah, okay.'"  I emphasized the words so that they sounded the opposite of "yeah" and "okay."

I Just Want to Read Comics

Okay, I think now, after several false starts, I am ready to write you guys some of the things that have happened me in the last two (plus) months, after I stopped blogging regularly.  I'm really sorry about it, actually.  I hadn't meant to drop off on this for this long.  I honestly thought it was only going to happen for a couple of weeks, and well, that clearly backfired. 
Anyway, I was sitting reading comics waiting.  I have mixed feelings about talking to people randomly when sitting around waiting for something.  A lot of it depends on the other person.  Because I am a young woman, I generally don't like to talk to men, especially older men.  We live in a world where men take advantage of women all the time, and the people who seem to have the hardest time understanding this are men.  (Whenever I say these things to a woman, no matter what age, they get it.  Without fail.) 
Like I said, I was waiting around, and reading comic books, which is actually something I don't do much.  I like comic books, but I always have so much other stuff to read, that I usually don't read comics.  I was pretty much fine on my own, and didn't really want to talk to anyone. 
There was a nice older lady next to me for a while, and she did talk to me.  She sort of disapproved of comics, which is something I can and can't understand.  (Not all comics are good, but not all comics are bad either.)  I disregarded her disregard and just was nicely enthusiastic about what I was reading.  She was kind of boring, because there wasn't much she could really say. 
Maybe I really am one of my peers, because I am increasingly struggling to talk to people not in my general age group.  When I say talk, I mean really commune, really have a conversation about ideas and concepts.  I can still speak to other people, but there's nothing they say, generally, that interests me.  Most of what they do say disgusts me and makes me think about how disappointing they are as a human being. 
(It should probably be said that I still can't talk to everyone in my age group, but it feels like I can usually find something in common with them.  Sometimes something only in pop culture, but still, that seems like a better starting place for a conversation.) 
The old woman eventually left, and I went back to my comic books.  I was happily reading, and this man sat down.  He made a big display of sitting down.  And then he talked loudly on his cell phone to his wife and kid.  He complained to his wife about his kid.  He told his kid he wasn't coming to her soccer game.
And then he talked to me. 
Well, I wasn't terribly encouraging, though not outright rude, which probably confused him.  I just politely answered questions.  He felt the need to tell me about his job and about how he was waiting for a call from China.  He didn't say important, but that was the inclination. 
I wasn't probably all that much older than his daughter.  And my political beliefs are not too terribly keen on businessmen, so your suit and multinational contacts do not impress me.  At all.  You're the reason the city of Detroit is such a mess, and for that, dear Sir, I will never forgive you. 
So no, I'm not going to inflate your ego.  Want someone to do that for you?  Ask another woman.  Offer to pay.  It might help. 

A Friday Night for Myself and Others

One of the reasons I feel weird about being the center of attention for partying is that I'm apparently meant to make decisions for our own fun.  I don't like making the decisions and in any case, most of them get ignored if they don't make people happy. 
Anyway, so we were at our favorite restaurant, and we were thinking of moving on to somewhere else.  But I'm not much of a partier, so I didn't know where to go.  Claire was being particularly annoying about it.  Finally, Jenny stepped in and saved the day and was nice enough to suggest a particular place. 
When we got there, Ruth and I used the bathroom, and we both got a drink from the bar.  We were perfectly happy to just talk to each other.  Ruth was leaving for a while, and I know that I'm going to miss her dearly.  It was our last night together. 
Two men approached our group.  Neither of them were particularly attractive.  The first guy, who has a beard, was a jerk.  When I talked to him about my current employment situation, he was totally judgemental and unkind.  And then he also berated a recent decision I had made.  Part of wished I could explain my decision, but how to even begin?  All of my decisions reach back into my personal history; even deciding where the genesis of a decision came from is hard to decide.  I could have explained about all the reasons, but it would be a long story, and he had already demonstrated a lack of care for my personal feelings.  No thanks.  No way was I going home with this guy.
His friend seemed sweet enough, though a bit naive.  I liked him alright.  If he didn't have such a crap friend, I might have been willing to give him more of a chance.
They were both in finance, which later on made Ruth just cringe and complain.  "Ack!  Finance.  So boring."  I had to concur.  What could girls like Ruth and I have in common with someone like that? 
Jenny and Claire were both really liking these guys for reasons I never quite figured out.  The guys bought us cheap beer, which was totally crap. 
As I was standing there, finishing the beer up, so man at the bar told me I could have a drink that had been left there next to him.  He felt the need to tell me no one had taken it and that it wasn't drugged, which made me disinterested. 
Eventually, Ruth and decided to go home, and off we went, leaving Claire and Jenny.  We walked down the street, Ruth leading the way, as I wasn't totally sure I knew where we were going.  Ruth wanted to get some McDonald's before we went back home, and I reluctantly agreed.  The only time I seem to eat McDonald's is when I am with Ruth, who seems to prefer it as "drunk food." 
This time, ordering wasn't nearly as painful.  Ruth got herself some burger and fries and a massive drink, and we trooped back home.  We went to sit in the lounge.  Ruth didn't want to wake Hayley, her roommate, up, and we ate out there. 
There was a Norwegian girl sitting there when we came in, which surprised me because we usually are left alone there that late on Friday nights.  She talked to us about how much she hated old women, which actually sort of bothered me.  There was nothing about this young woman that I found all that impressive, and why she felt the need to hate on old women and things about them I don't generally find that terrible, really confuses me.  Ruth and I exchanged some of our patented looks. 
Eventually, we went our separate ways to go to bed.  It was around three in the morning before I finally went to bed.
I got about around nine fifteen the next morning, and I was surprisingly okay.  In fact, I felt almost great.   The only thing that wasn't so good was that I was possibly still drunk.  When I first woke up, I still had that swimming feeling that comes with being drunk. 
I had breakfast with Hayley and Ruth.  I couldn't seem to stomach my omelet, so I gave up on it.  Ruth informed me of what had happened to Claire and Jenny the rest of the night.  Apparently, Claire and Jenny went to another bar, and Jane tried to buy pot from someone.  Claire would not allow this to happen and dragged Jenny home.  Apparently Jenny refused to talk to Claire the rest of the way home.  They got home sometime between five and six. 
(Even later on, Jane would claim that she didn't remember any of this, though Claire certainly did.  She also was so drunk that she didn't get up all Saturday.) 
I had to work Saturday.  I usually don't, but as I was walking to work, I was struck by how nice of a day it was shaping up to be.  I walked down the street, admiring the sunshine and the warmth and the air, which felt strangely clear and fresh and almost as if it had never been used before.  It was relatively quiet, but there were people around, already out enjoying the day like I was. 
I ended up at work way earlier than necessary.  It took me a while to figure out where I needed to go, but once I did, seeing my coworker wasn't around, I sat down and waited for him.  As I sat there, being awkward, two other people at the table next to me were setting up.  A few even talked to me, saying nice things. 
One of the nice people was named Craig.  He came over to talk to me.  He said he knew my coworker, that he had seen him the night before.  "He had an empty bottle of wine." 
This particular coworker doesn't strike me as the kind to drink wine, but it sort of put an interesting image in my mind.  Sounded like he a Friday night similar to mine. 
Anyway, that's why he was late. 

This Chaos Could or Couldn't Work

Paul and I were walking out of this restaurant.  We had spent the entire evening drinking. 
As we drove home, we talked about him.  Things are really rough with him.  He failed a class last year and now he's gotten kicked out of the Honors College.  He hasn't told him parents yet.  There's no way that's not going to be bad.  His mother will probably be angry.  His Dad will go nuts on him. 
"If you need to, I can probably arrange it so that you can come sleep at my house," I said. 
"Thanks." 
We talked about music.  I told him that I liked this new indie thing, but that I still loved some good rock and roll.
Admitting this is a big deal for me, because for years I've been trying not to get sucked in.  I think part of my reservation was that it came in and swept great rock aside, and I missed that.  I think the other thing was Dan.  Dan loves it so much, and despite loving Dan, I was suspicious of it.
But the more I think about it, the more I realize I should love it.  The aesthetic encourages the annihilation of gender.  It allows guys to be more gentle and show when they're sad.  It allows both some aspects of hard rock and more mellow music.  I logically, given my own musical history, love it.
I'm still a little reluctant about some things, like the hardcore who bash everything else in comparison to it.  But that's a small group, and well, I would ignore them for other reasons.
When I got home, I said goodbye to Paul.  I was sorry we had to end the night early, but it turned out to be a good thing, because when I got in, my Mom asked me if I could go babysit my Grandma in the morning and early afternoon.  I said sure, but that I wanted to spend the afternoon in the library.  Deal.
Then I went to check my email.  There's a ton of stuff going on.  Jennifer is going back to Lansing, would I like to come along?
I've been invited back up next week, and I want to go, but right before that I have a party in Ann Arbor that I a maybe attending.  If I go to the party in Ann Arbor (which I really want to go to), then I won't be able to hop that ride with Jenn.  On the other hand, it looks like my family is going to be in chaos next week because my Mom is going to a business conference, and whenever that happens, it's craziness.  This chaos could work for or against me.  If my sister takes the car and disappears, then I'll be out of luck.  If my Dad is looking for any excuse to get out of town, he'll be more than happy for me to give it to him.  So, maybe. 
When it rains it pours, etc. 
I also got an email from Ashley.  That lucky girl is in China and writing me emails from her trip.  (She's out there to learn Chinese.)  She told me all about her latest adventures, including going to a mosque.  I've sent back a bunch of questions asking about it, because I was under the impression that China was not into religion. 
And then I did the whole lay down and try to sleep thing.  Again, no luck.  I was hoping the alcohol I had would make me more sleepy, since I've been told that's one of the things it does, but no.  I laid in bed for hours without much luck.  Bah. 
I fell asleep sometime around five.  My alarm rang at eight.  I was suppose to get up for Grandma, but I totally didn't get up.  Maybe I would be lucky and my Mom wouldn't wake me? 

William II in 1166

Just got back this evening from a study group at the library for the final tomorrow. Elizabeth, who is such a nice girl and clearly one of the better things happening in the history department, organized this. We basically went over a ton of stuff. I was only there for two hours, and we still didn't go over everything, just mostly everything. Plus, there are always discrepancies between our notes. At one point, Elizabeth mentioned William II doing something in 1166, and I was hella confused.
Cameron, one of the other smart kids in the class, mentioned that the upcoming medieval conference was only a week away. (!) I knew Kalamazoo had a conference in the summer, I just didn't know it was going to be so soon. I would really like to go, but I don't know if I could justify it, especially to my parents, who are ignorant of my medieval love.
I'm also a tad annoyed, because I realize the dumbest kid in class probably has a crush on me. I've caught him staring at me with those big wondering eyes that boys get sometimes. Why why why why WHY does this always happen? I can get a guy's attention, it's just always the wrong guy. Why can't a guy I admire and love feel the same way about me? Why is it always the ones I think are worthless?
I feel like God is taunting me.