It Turns Out My Mental Illness Was All in My Head

Thank you kindly for thinking of me
If I'm not smiling, I'm just thinking

Glad and sorry, happy or sad
When all is done and spoken
You're up or I'm down

Can you show me a dream
Can you show me one that's better than mine
Can you stand it in the cold light of day, neither can I

- - From Glad And Sorry by Faces.

Don't we all create a public persona for ourselves? The us we show to other people. Free of doubt, firm in our beliefs, striding comfortably through life never shitting or spitting. Our pasts were glorious and interesting, our lovers gorgeous, our accomplishments Olympian. Our defeats manifestations of bad luck or the result of evil machinations. We are pure of heart and our versions of events have the ring of truth and why shouldn't they. They are -- after all -- our versions and we have earned your confidence because you know us. He'll you may even repeat our stories: "Thompson at work said that he once....."
Horseshit.

So I went to the doctor this morning and it turns out I'm something or the other and don't have some such but I need such and so. It was all good in other words. Then since my next class wasn't till mid afternoon I made a quick trip to the gym. I'd tweaked a hamstring so stayed off the treadmill and did 30 minutes on the cross ramp next to some guy half my age who was plodding along watching Family Guy and chomping on gum. He hadn't manufactured a bead of sweat by the time I finished and he'd started before me. Go figure some people.

After home for a smoothie and putting on my fancy duds I was back downtown and to the BART station. There was a young woman walking in circles which I felt like I didn't need to see so I moved on down the platform. Got on the train and there were three people who put purses or backpacks on seats next to them presumably because they paid two fares although it could be because they reckon themselves too good to have another human being in such close proximity. Go figure some people.

I'm a fancier of foggy drizzly rainy or overcast days but I must admit to enjoying what awaited in San Francisco. Clear especially blue skies but with a light cool breeze. Makes one want to walk along the bay and not go into a building and teach but I love my job and there you are.

At school/work. I taught a class. I rose above mere competency and flirted with brilliance. It's what I do.

In the teacher's room a fellow teacher made the shocking claim that she suspected some of her Saudi students are anti-Israel and perhaps anti-Jew. I keeled over in shock. Go figure some people.

I came home pretty much the same way I came to work only in reverse. There were a lot more people around me as it was during the commute hour. Other people can be a royal pain in the ass. I mean of course in large numbers congregating in one area. Somehow I don't mind them so much at a sporting event where it is advantageous to have the masses to heighten the excitement but when you're trying to get yourself home you don't want a lot of people cheek to jowl. But there they are so you deal.

Shortly after the missus got home we went to the grocery store for purposes of purchasing groceries. This task was completed without injury or incident. On the way home I begged the wife to drive by 1624 Milvia Street here in Berkeley the location of a cottage occupied by the great Allen Ginsberg at the time he first read Howl. Both Jack Kerouac and Gary Snyder visited the abode so this is a place where giants once walked. Darling wife obliged and I said my customary "holy holy holy."

Now I'm home again with last night's Letterman on the high def boob tube. And I'm writing this. See?