About Me
Hi! Thank you for visiting my website. My name is Matthew, and I am a psychological scientist. I received my PhD in Psychology with concentrations in Social and Quantitative Psychology in 2023 from The Graduate Center at the City University of New York. Before that, I studied percussion at Stetson University before switching my major to psychology, receiving my Bachelor of Arts in Psychology with a minor in Music in 2017.
I have two complementary professional and scholarly identities. The first focuses on the theory, practice, and instruction of data science and quantitative methodology, especially with respect to understanding what expert analysts and scientists learn from their experience. The second focuses on the psychological origin and explanation of how people decide between right and wrong, especially in understanding how and why people change their moral values over time (they do that!).
If you keep scrolling, you will find lots of other cool (?) and interesting (??) and random (definitely) slices of my life and personality laid out in some kind of bizarre stream-of-consciousness format that I made up, mostly as an excuse for messing around with scrollytelling.
This is Sweet Jack The Cat. He’s not dead. He just sleeps like that.
This is Ripley. She was named after science fiction heroine and personal childhood hero Lieutenant First Class Ellen Louise Ripley. Dog-Ripley is, however, not very brave. Presenting symptoms include fear of nighttime, wind, leaves falling from trees, mysterious objects covered in black garbage bags next to the sidewalk, and turtles. She is contraindicated for yelling “please stop barking” and being fed perfectly reasonable meals that other normal dogs would scarf down without hesitation. She was diagnosed with a rare medical condition called “being ridiculous”. She likes Jack the Cat. A little too much, if you ask me.
In my senior year of high school, a friend told me I was boring. She drew me this.
These Things They Are
Fickle things, they are.
When left alone they will have your head,
a chorus, electrons; your soul, otherwise.
Little things, they are.
So small indeed to feel you so dead,
a longing; creating for more, unrealized.
Giant things, they are.
So mountainously to overwhelm,
a paradox, so subtle, so well disguised.
Quiet things, they are.
Ever sneaking, seeking to disclose
a secret that you hide because it is wild.
Gentle things, they are.
Leading you from comfort, not others,
a selfishness, makes you too selfless and mild.
Vile things, they are!
Away with them and find you some peace,
a quiet, no worries, like when you were a child.
I raced motocross as a kid. I won a few times!
Seconds
I’ve got a problem.
Exponential
There is potential but it’s problematic.
Though emphatic: an attic
I’m an addict, an attic
an addict I say.
Right gets more wrong by the day.
Out go the candles out go the candles
out go the candles
Smoke rings strangling!
Large flames mangling
the stairs,
disappearing in pairs! fours!
Forget it, forgot.
Fret not.
Reform tomorrow.
Sorry Ms Morrow
SORRY Ms Morrow!
I’m late because I BORROW
Joy is a pain and clean is a stain.
It’s a catch-22 I can work my way through.
Happy holds a smile
and the truth is denial
A computer has a file
but a flame ain’t no game.
It’s awful, it’s fruitless
I’m absolutely truthless
I’m well aware
a flame ain’t no game
Evil’s my aim
forever the same
I was in a musical. My solo was Pinball Wizard. There was blood on my guitar.
Window
She looks from the window,
Though miles away I can see the expression clearly on her face.
I stared at that window,
Wondering why I don’t dare stray from my gracefully occupied space.
A startling case,
Unclear motives, a star-spangled gaze
All the right laughs on all the wrong days.
A mouse in a maze,
Wandered in circles for seven days
At the Earle, I’ve too many stays.
She courts me through pardon,
Though curious still is the swallowing of the most bitter of pills.
We stand in the garden,
We would have embraced if only the two of us had twice of the wills.
My inhibition.
Systems broken, more than malfunction
Sparks fly away without solution.
I have young wisdom,
Eyes see through sorrowful pollution
Please hurry in, un-realization.