May 30, 2012

ah, Jesus.

Now all my top searches are psych test questions.

I am


Instead of drinking whiskey to drown my impotent rage:


Hi Mr. F,

I have some questions about the quiz on chapter 11.

I got this wrong:

Question 25 0 / 1 point
A study of courtship among Boston college students found
that men were more likely to be “broken up with ” than to “break up with” their partners.
that men’s goals in the relationship were more romantic than women’s goals.
that men seemed to “love” more in the relationship.
Correct Answer
that men were more devastated when relationships ended.
Incorrect Response
all of these

but if you will look at our textbook, on page 377, all of these options are listed as true. I believe my answer was correct.

I also got this one wrong

Question 23 0 / 1 point
As a group, women have been found to be better than men at
expressing themselves nonverbally.
decoding facial cues of others.
decoding body cues of others.
Correct Answer
recognizing faces.
Incorrect Response
all of these

but based on multiple theories in the textbook the correct answer to this question is ‘all of the above.’

Also this question I got wrong

Research investigating the relationship between gender traits and psychological health suggest that it is most adaptive to
maintain the traits of your own gender.
maintain feminine traits.
Correct Answer
maintain masculine traits.
Incorrect Response
be androgenous.
be undifferentiated or gender-neutral.

but on page 362 the textbook, while talking about Jung’s theory of andgrogyny, clearly states that androgyny is the most adaptive and healthiest orientation. I do not think I should have got this wrong.

Also, I think this question may just be set up wrong in the quiz format

Question 6 0 / 1 point
When it is found that men are less emotional than women, one possible explanation might be that
men are genetically programmed to be less emotional.
differences in emotionality are just cultural myths that influence our perceptions of emotionality.
society teaches men to suppress their emotions.
Incorrect Response
the rules for how men and women show emotion are different.
Correct Answer
all of these

because men are not genetically programmed to be less emotional, and differences in emotionality are not just cultural myths that influence our perceptions of emotionality.

And finally,

Which of the following is an example of the social learning of gender-related norms?
Brian’s mom scolds him for being a sissy when he is picked on by others and doesn’t retaliate.
Tom’s father teaches him to work on the car.
Gene’s older brothers encourage him to join in their tackle-football games but tell their younger sister Julie that she can’t play.
Correct Answer
Grandma calls all the girls to the kitchen after Thanksgiving dinner, to wash the dishes
Incorrect Response
all of these

ALL OF THESE are examples of the social learning of gender related norms. So I am confused as to why I got this wrong.

Thank you very much for your time, and while I would very much like my score fixed, if you can explain to me why these answers are legitimately wrong I will be happy to accept that as well.





I am

a princely racket

May 23, 2012

My second favorite poem in all the world, which popped suddenly into my head this morning and has been running itself in circles of taffy tongued satisfaction ever since:

Lines on Montezuma

Met a puma
Coming through the rye.
Made the puma
Into apple-pie.

To the nation
Every one to come.
And the puma
Give a kettle-drum.

Of the nation,
One and all invited.
And the puma
Equally delighted.

Dresses rich prepared.
Feathers — jewels —
Work in crewels —
No expense is spared.

Of the nation
Round the palace wall
Awful rumour
That the puma
Won’t be served to all.

From the nation,
Audience they gain.
” What ‘s this rumour ?
If you please, explain.”

(Playful humour
Very well sustained)
Answers “Pie-dish,
As it ‘s my dish,
Is for me retained.”

Feeling running high.
Joins the puma
In the apple-pie.

I am

Pissed at religion. I had a long lovely tirade all boiling my brain blood, but now I have walked for half an hour in the rain and realized that really, I am just pissed about what other people believe. It’s impossible some days, this goddamn life we have to share. Some days all the precisely stacked blocks of freedom for everyone and pursuit of happiness glue just disappear beneath the trembling shadow of the cosmic rage tsunami, and it is well that I do not have super powers. Today I could punch face until the last bit of knuckle had fragmented away.

It’s good to feel this way sometimes, to really remember what it is that defines the good, the bad and the ugly within yourself. I’m so used to being continually bombarded with shit far and wide that is just the worst damn news, the cruelest people, the stupidest behaviors. Most days I can sign a couple of petitions, maybe write a letter, call a senator; most days I can chain drink coffee and feel that I have done something to make the world a better place and that things must be improving all the time. Some days it’s turtles all the way down. And then some days it’s just like one thing will hit you out of nowhere, or maybe it’s two, or fuck it all it’s probably every heart shredding spirit crushing one of them, and the response is a momentary droop of despondency followed by the slow roil of the aforementioned tsunami, blind red with anger and lusting like love never raised for the impact of vengeance. Some days it’s the shit side of shineola.

I am

Last evening I went for a walk, and at some point had to lean up against a beautiful old wooden telephone pole and shake a rock out of my shoe. How rocks get into fully filled Converse I may never understand; I suspect the laces holes in the sides. As I stood there with one bare foot in the air, tumbling the pebble out, a dad and his two or so year old kid walked by. The kid was, how shall we say it, oh perfect: huffy.

The dad looked at me and pointed and said ‘hey look, buddy! everybody gets things in their shoes!’

And the kid looked at me, and he looked at my airborne bare foot, and he looked at me shaking something out of my shoe. And the hugest, slowest smile spread across his face and suddenly we were all three grinning like idiots, like a rock in the shoe was just the best inside joke ever.

Life is fair because everybody gets things in their shoes.

I am

This morning on my walk to work a guy passed me running for the bus, one shoe on and the other in hand. He jogged unevenly up and hopped one footed onto the bus, a full grin of total self commendation across his face. My smile took over my own face widely and without leave.

It’s always a thing of beauty to see another time gambler in action. We are the ones who are addicted to that most alluring conditioning schedule of all, the unpredictable, intermittent reward system known as partial reinforcement. Partial reinforcement occurs when a behavior is rewarded according to expectation or desire some of the time, unalterably at random. The memory of past successes drives us to run after the rainbow every time, and the very suspense makes it excruciatingly more interesting. Will we make it or will we not? Will it be sunset sorbets by smoothing spoonfuls or down in a blaze of glory? We are addicted to gambling with our time because that capricious, scintillating taste of victory ebbs most deliciously in the pools of cliff hang adrenaline; and because there is no better feeling than having it all and sliding into the last obligation in the nick of time on the fumes of a barren tank. The nick of time is the very best of all times; it is the glittering peak of moments and its heart of flame is its elusive transience – the nick of time is attainable only by perfection of function and form.

Perhaps the most pulse raising spirit soaring component of the nick of time power drive is the Hail Mary comeback. These occur when someone is just about to be well and truly fucked forever and they realize it; and for one or so rare and pungent seconds the chips are down and the flag goes up and there just isn’t a damn to give about the odds. The Hail Mary comeback derives its power from the pristine tip of the throwaway iceberg, where a single act of free will desperation somehow actually spirals perfectly along with reality and leaves the relevant world slack jawed in the afterglow of noble precision and witless luck.

Time gambling slides its silken self around your body and rocks you with the hushed laugher of ultimate cake; the having and the eating. It runs icy fingers down vibrating vertebrae: it is the having, or the not.

I am