All this pain begins to feel like pleasure

With more tears you'd make a sea a desert
Salt my wounds and I'll keep saying thank you
--- Shakira, "Fool"

A month ago I went to see my doctor and complained of depression. He asked if I thought about suicide and I said quite a lot. He asked if I ever thought about it in detail, like the manner or method. "A couple of weeks ago I was out of town at a hotel and I looked out over the balcony every day I was there and thought about how violent the impact would be if I jumped," I said. He looked quite alarmed and asked if I'd ever been hospitalized for depression. He put me back on Prozac, which is what I'd been wanting to do for some time. It's not a panacea, and it's not perfect, but it does help. It doesn't make you happy, but it makes you... indifferent to things that otherwise would tear you up.

I feel a hella better, and as long as I eschew an abundance of self-analysis, I should be okay.

And but so anyway today after work Ms. N and I gave a PowerPoint presentation about the conference we went to. We made it funny, and it was well received. At the end I talked about how much I'd enjoyed being inspired by the conference's last keynote speakers, the teacher astronaut and the author philanthropist. After the meeting, the custodian came up to me and talked about the astronaut some more. I said, "Yeah, I really was inspired. I came away wondering if a boy in my class would be the first person on Mars or something."

He said, "A boy? Oh, you were doing so well up until then."

Now, I'd said "a boy" because I was thinking specifically of J, a tall, healthy, smart boy who is fascinated by space --- the sort of perfect kid astronaut. But he was half-kidding me for apparently playing to stereotypes. So I answered, "Oh, sorry. That wasn't very inclusive, was it? I meant to say that I came away wondering if a girl in my class would grow up to be a secretary at NASA."

He gave me a reproachful look.

I said, "Oh, was that the un-P.C. term? Apologies, again. I meant to say she could grow up to be a typist at NASA."

Man, it's a good thing I have a knack for passing myself off as an affable blunderer, or I'd probably get canned for my loudmouthery.