It seems I should clarify part of what I was getting to in my post, which was unfinished. My point is not that I suffer from low self-esteem in terms of my evaluation of my own physical attractiveness. Trust me. I am supremely confident about my ability to attract men. If a guy rebuffs me for sex, my response is not "What is wrong with me?" my response is "What the fuck is wrong with him to turn down such a, well let's be frank, sublime piece of ass?" What I was more upset about is how men have put me in the "Just for Fucking" category and somehow these other chicks who are not as smart and often times not as good looking are put in the "Love Object" category.

To some degree I feel lied to by my parents, my mother conditioning me to be attractive and both conditioning me to educated and intelligent with the implication that this would lead to happiness and marriage. It seems the more I look around there are an awful lot of men who say that like smart women, but what they really mean is women who are slightly less smart than themselves Remember this pair? I recently ran into Irish Eyes at the bus station who went on and on about how awful it is to date a girl who can't understand Nietszche, yet he was always intimidated by me. He went ahead this weekend and married a girl he considers his intellectual inferior. For a long time I thought it was was because men might fear that my disability would make me dependent on them, but my childhood friend Bridezilla, who is less attractive, less intelligent, and less emotionally stable managed to find herself a husband who will literally drop everything because she can not handle the monumental task of getting her prescription filled at the drug store. (Mind you, Bridezilla, has been hospitalized for psychotic episodes and I cut off the friendship when I got sick of her calling me and asking me to send my migraine medication to her in Georgia because she was over the limit on her clonazepam AKA clinopin. She's been unemployed since she graduated from school and before marrying this rube she was engaged to another twit whom she left.) Meanwhile I am slogging up and down subway stairs carrying ten pounds of books. Generally, and remember this is a general statement, men are terrified once they find out what I do for a living, and often they lose interest when they realize that I could kick their asses at Trivial Pursuit. Many men have admitted as much to me to me (Thus John Yule's great "Act stupid, more cleavage" advice.)

What's particularly interesting is that in this analysis it is my intelligence not my lack of it that puts me into the "Sex Object" pool. Generally when I put a person into the "Sex Object" pool it is because I wouldn't trust them to sit the right way on a toilet seat not because they can offer pithy opinions on Newtonian physics. Am I terrified by brilliant men? Absolutely. I lived in fear of dealing with the Beast because I felt my intellectual inferiority almost every minute, BUT that was part of my attraction to him. He pushed me beyond my limits, and generally I think that is what Love is supposed to do-push you to develop-challenge you. I didn't let my fear eliminate him as a possible mate (or whatever). And of course he emigrated just like the rest of my love interests.

One of the other things I was contemplating this weekend is my inability to understand weak people. When my students get one paper back with a bad grade and just give up, I simply can not understand. The whole concept of giving up is beyond me. Not that I consider this virtuous. Certainly the ability to walk away would have been a boon to me at many points. For example, when I was an undergrad. I didn't change majors even after I knew I wasn't going to be an actor because I didn't want to be perceived as a quitter. I knew lots of people who changed majors, but looked down on them as being weak instead of thinking perhaps they were doing the best thing for themselves. How much better would my life have been if I changed from acting to psychology? But no I slogged through all four years with grim determination and completely ignored that I wasn't supposed to just get to the end goal, but ostensibily be doing the right thing for myself and that might entail taking more time or making mistakes.

Still considering that determination is tied to my survival it is not particularly surprising that I would find it difficult to let go of things. Survival is always a choice. The reason why suicide disturbs so many of us is it serves a reminder how much of a choice life really is. My therapists have always reminded me that every time I have managed to drag myself out of a hospital bed, it was a choice. But it doesn't feel like a choice to me. I know on some intellectual level that I could just have given up back in 2001, moved back home, quit my job, even been committed, but it didn't really feel like an option. And this inability to perceive quitting as an option is joined directly to my survival. So when I see my students give up after such paltry discouragement I find myself getting angry. Hell, I find myself getting angry at my co-workers too. As I was teaching the other profs about the Aeneid today one prof said, "You know I'm glad you are making this presentation because you know there is just so much information it's hard for me to even know where to start." As I don't have any magical powers, I'm shocked by his statement. Sure it's a daunting task, but it is after all your job so you do it. And this rage on some level I know is wrong and is based again on my own inability to understand giving up and accept it as a viable option, but I don't know how to train myself to accept that it is reasonable behavior.

And speaking of giving up I'll stop here. This wasn't the post I meant to write. That will have to wait until tomorrow.