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Show 206 "Ah-ha.!" In a few days he had the results interpreted and I went to his room, by appointment, for the news. He told me I was obsessed by sex. "I am not. I saw sex in those pictures because that's what they put there." "Nobody put anything in them. They're blots. There's nothing else there but what your mind put there." "You told me not to tell you what I really saw." "J_ said that? What did you see?" "Blots. I made the rest up. You'd show me dirty postcards and then tell me I'm fouled up because I saw sex in them." "I didn't say you were fouled up. When did I say you were fouled up?" "You said obsessed." "That's not necessarily fouled up. Sex has considerable importance in the scheme of human affairs. If you're going to be obsessed, sex is as good as anything. And a Rorschach is a diagnostic tool; you shouldn't take it so personal." "It sounded personal, obsessed by sex." "Naw, I read the cards, I see what I see. Everybody can't be as balanced about sex as I am. Don't worry." "Well, OK. But tell me, am I fouled up?" "Yes." He was right. I was paying double for my dark smelly room what the others were paying for their light airy ones. My life wasn't solved either; all I learned from Norman was that I did not want to major in psychology. I switched to sociology, but couldn't seem to get enthused about saving the world. At first, to keep his contact with Amelia, Ben invited me to have breakfast |