At Cocke Hall, I killed the rest of my awake hours dissecting what had happened yesterday for these musings. In further analyzing my feelings on the matter, I am pleased to discover that none of my usual nascent misogynous feelings were provoked by The Twenty Dollar Crisis. In the model of Jessika contained in my brain, the one I use to predict her behaviour and extrapolate the actions of others similar to her, there may only be a weak emphasis on her being female. Thus when she does something, I do not expect similar things of other girls. Thus when she treats me like shit, it is just her doing it. I am not a victim of womankind. It is possible on the other hand that I have matured beyond an automatic hate for all things related to or within the same category as the source of my problems. Perhaps by now a series of "firewalls" have been erected around the neural models I keep of my friends, protecting them from judgment based on the actions of others.
One of the aspects that was particularly humiliating about the central event in my life yesterday was that I was to be abandoned even though my presence is a rare commodity. I don't think Jessika would have done a similar thing to Steve Weiner. I didn't like the implication that I had become a burden. And if I am now a burden, a social responsibility, a charity case, surely the responsible action at this point is to leave her completely alone. And so...
I didn't try to find Jessika for today's 4pm consolation date. I wouldn't want to make her suffer through an afternoon with boring old me. For my part I think I'll be happier not seeing her septum ring for awhile. I always did think septum rings were ridiculous. Twice as ridiculous as Eddie Vedder. Even if I liked her septum ring, I'd be missing it soon enough regardless: she'll be back in Philadelphia for a whole month in a day or so.
At my house I took a bath and then went to bed at around 7pm, awaking again for work before 1am.
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