Find Me at the Anthropology Moat

Today I attended a meeting with all the honors thesis students in my department. At least, that was what GCal called it. It might as well have been retitled, “Impostor Syndrome: The Meeting.” Because seriously? My dominant thoughts upon leaving that meeting:

  1. Do I want to do this research? I don’t want to do this research. I signed up because of parental pressure!
  2. I can’t write anything this long. I can’t write. I have forgotten how to type and my fingers are numb, because I am an idiot. I bet they teach you how to type in SURE.*
  3. The IRB is going to read my sad application for approval, track me down while I’m trying to flintknap in the Anthropology moat**, and break my kneecaps with a bat. I deserve this.

These meetings! Not reassuring! I left the one today resolved to quit writing my thesis and, I don’t know, go commit ritual seppuku. (Or just take eight credit hours this semester and call it good. But that would be sad.)

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Researching beards

“Evolution: it’s a thing,” is one of my favorite video lines on the internet.

My trivia team took a turn for the biological last night. About ten minutes after I sat at the table and started chatting with my computer sciencey teammates, the conversation came to beards. Specifically, my teammates wanted to know if I knew why men grow beards.

And I thought about it. It turns out that I do not.

It’s an interesting question. Vast swaths of the world’s men don’t grow beards, for one–so it’s not like the bearded have outcompeted their clean shaven brethren. There are no survival rations stored in facial hair.

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