I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
From the Bible of "None of the above"...
But there's nothing wrong with me
This is how I'm supposed to be
In the land of make believe
That don't believe in me
Green Day, "Jesus Of Suburbia"
Today was test day in Math Methods. First, though, we talked a bit about estimation and number places. Given a one-centimeter cube, we were asked to guess how big a million-centimeter cube would be. My first wild stab was "about five feet cubed," which turned out to be pretty close. But when I tried to think the problem over, I thought it might be forty feet cubed. I don't feel too bad, as all the guesses were fairly wild, and one guy said he thought it would be 720 feet cubed. As to the test, I think I did fairly well --- I feel I have a good grasp on how Ms. H wants us to approach teaching math (for a full, conceptual understanding, not just a procedural, abstract approach). There were a few questions dealing with material from the book; since I haven't exactly been reading it with the utmost care, I was pretty much at a loss at those points. But overall, I feel okay about it. I finished and left early.
At work, I had a talk with MA. I tried acting nice, but she was still mad. So I sent our intern to the other room with some older kids to do an activity and had a talk with her at naptime. I told her that no matter how mad she was at me, I'd always care for her and be there if she needed me. She started crying and said that she had been making bad choices and feeling hurt about it and she wanted to share things in her life with me, but that she couldn't because I was jealous and judgemental. I didn't deny it, but pointed out that I'm a guy, not a girl, and that I didn't always appreciate being just the friend. (I mentioned other female friends of mine as well, so I wasn't making it about Us.) I did not say, but may later if it comes up again, that as a guy, I am not into being used by other people, which seems to be a girl thing. I also haven't ever slept with anyone who didn't at least like me. As a guy, all I can say to her behavior is that it's a bad idea and she ought to stop it. If she were attracted to me, I might be able to show her what it's like to go out with someone who actually loves her and cares about her. But she isn't, so she keeps throwing herself away for these self-indulgent, obnoxious, coke-snorting losers who don't care about her as a person. Such a sad, old song.
After we were talking civilly again, she mentioned that me trying to act like nothing was wrong had made her even madder. "But a few weeks back, when I was mad at you," I pointed out, "you just kept talking to me like nothing was wrong, and when I didn't react, you blew up and made me stop being mad. So when you were mad, I thought that I ought to use the same strategy, but when I did, you still blew up, saying things just don't go away!"
She shrugged. "I'm a woman. My hurt feelings have more validity than yours."
I haven't called or texted Ram since last Wednesday. This evening, she called me; I was studying, or at least should have been, so declined it, and after class called back to leave (a rather unemotional) message. I am still wondering if I want to be friends with her, or resent her too much for leading me on.
What a world of difference this little pill, Prozac, makes. I may not be my old cheerful, laughing self, but I'm far from the near-suicidal puddle of resentment and tears that I have been these past months. No more spontaneous weeping, no days of bleary depression. Just one example from legion: last night, when I was instant messaging MA, she (still angry) said something off-putting and abruptly signed off. In the era BP (Before Prozac), this might have sent me into a weeping spiral of recrimination, self-loathing, and fruitless, foolish late-night calls or texts to MA. Instead, I thought, "That's lame, but I'll deal with it tomorrow," and went to bed.
I've never been on mood-altering medication before. I must say that it's done me a lot of good.