The language of scientists can be a sort of poetry; combinations of words with nuance of meaning that exactly capture something about how we think or behave.

In a paper titled The Acceptance Model of Intuitive Eating: A Comparison of Women in Emerging Adulthood, Early Adulthood, and Middle Adulthood, (read about the research here), I came across the phrase “observer’s perspective.”

Observer’s perspective: The way most of us understand our bodies, as a thing to look at rather than as a miracle that does amazing things. It is thunder thighs, love handles, muffin tops and other hateful phrases we direct at the magnificent organisms that carry us through life. It’s also bodacious, bootylicious, brickhouse, and other expressions of appreciation. It is the body from the outside looking at, not in.

Who are these people and why do they want to be my friend?

Deciding where to draw the line on Facebook friend requests is a modern-day sticky wicket.

ID Analytics, Inc. an online risk management firm, surveyed 387 people who are on social networks, and nearly nine out of 10 people said it was not rude to refuse or ignore a friend request.

But according to other new research, denied or ignored friend requests are a large source of hurt feelings.

So we don’t think it’s rude to reject people, but we’re hurt when other people reject us.

We’re so confused.

I’m a big fan of scientific and behavioral research. It’s interesting and useful and fun to read (well, not fun fun) and I believe it usually matters even when it doesn’t seem to.

Even so, sometimes I read a study and think, “Yeah, and….?”

Like this research on fear, in which researchers used a computational model of a rodent amygdala, taught fear to their model (I don’t know, maybe showed it really scary equations), and caused so-called “fear neurons” to fire with conditioned stimulus. Retraining the amygdala not to fear the stimulus caused “extinction neurons” to spring into action and overwhelm the fear neurons.

The conclusion of the research: We don’t overcome fear, we just suppress it, and neural activity reflects that. In addition, the fear can return under other circumstances; context matters. (And other stuff. Read the original paper here, if you can. I tried and tried but it made my eyeballs spin.)

I’ve never read Pat Conroy’s novel Prince of Tides nor seen the movie because I find the premise of a relationship between therapist and client objectionable, both ethically and as a plot point. It’s wrong in so many ways, and I simply could not suspend disbelief.

Not that it hurt Conroy on the marketplace; the book and movie were smash hits. Nobody cared or they just didn’t know. There’s a lot about psychology—both the field and in terms of human behavior—a lot of people don’t understand.

Would Conroy have written that story if he’d had The Writer’s Guide to Psychology: How to Write Accurately About Psychological Disorders, Clinical Treatment and Human Behavior? This new book  by Carolyn Kaufman, Psy.D. (learn the difference between a Ph.D. and a Psy.D. on page 38) is a useful research tool for novelists and screenwriters who want to write credible plot or character points involving psychology into their stories.

I cringed reading this story about how older people are worse at crossing the street while talking on a cell phone than younger people. I thought, “Ah geeze. Here’s another reason we’ll be considered lame.”

This aging thing? Not so much fun. Especially in a culture that worships youth.

Sure, there are benefits. I’m calmer and happier at 52 than I was 25. I’m more confident. According to  research published in the Journal of Communication, I have what social scientists call “low identity uncertainty.” I know who I am.

Kids have high identity uncertainty—they’re still amorphous, not sure who they’re going to be. (Why uncertainty? Would positive psychologists call it low and high identity certainty?)

But I also know that my relevance is slipping away. The world belongs to the young. I feel like chopped liver. Out of touch. “Low-status” is how the research puts it.

I want to bristle at that, but can’t. It’s true. I’m starting to feel a little put-upon by the kids, the high-status group. We’re done with you gramaw. Eat our dust. Gimme that cell phone before you hurt yourself!