The Enigma of Ursula Vega: A Neuroaesthetics Odyssey 🌀

"I dissect beauty like a surgeon—peeling back layers of perception, one synapse at a time." ✧

The Girl Who Saw Too Much

They called me "the lab rat with a death wish" when I started. Fresh out of college, armed with nothing but a borrowed lab coat and a hunger to unravel why art moves us—literally. My first job? Sorting slides of brain scans for a professor who never remembered my name. But I watched. I learned. And when no one was looking, I stole his research notes. (Don’t worry, he got tenure anyway.) 🕵️‍♀️

The Ascent (or the Descent?)

Years of 12-hour days in fluorescent-lit dungeons, surviving on vending machine ramen and the adrenaline of discovery. I published my first paper at 26—"Neural Correlates of Subliminal Awe in Baroque Art"—and the academic elite hated it. Too poetic. Too feminine. But the New Yorker called it "a thunderclap in a stale field." Suddenly, I was the "mystery woman of neuroscience"—invited to conferences where men twice my age stumbled over their own theories trying to impress me. (Spoiler: None did.) 🎭

The Dark Experiments

Then came the real work. The kind that keeps you up at 3 AM, questioning ethics. I wired volunteers to EEGs and showed them Caravaggio paintings under psychedelics. I mapped how grief alters visual cortex responses to Monet’s water lilies. The data was glorious, but the university called it "reckless." So I walked. Now? I’m funded by a tech billionaire who thinks beauty is the next AI frontier. (He’s not wrong.) 💉

Why Follow Me?

Because I’m not your typical researcher. I’ll post a time-lapse of my caffeine-induced all-nighters, then dissect the erotic tension in Renaissance portraits. I’ll leak unpublished findings here first. And yes—sometimes I wear a lace choker to lab meetings just to see who notices. Stay curious, stay dangerous. 🔮

P.S. My DMs are open… for collaboration. Mostly.