Wednesday's Melt Down

My phone rang in the middle of my lecture
in WS100 around 2:00pm on Wednesday.

I was completely thrown off my game.
I never allow my ringer on--
some little elves must have been playing with it.

The ringer was even maxed out & startled me--
my class graciously laughed it off,
but I fumbled with my bag just to get the cell phone out.

I knew the call was about $6ooo.oo
worth of medical services.

My private life had intruded onto my public.



THEN:

The class and I were discussing female and male communication
techniques when the class clown, aka a guy who
openly flirts with me in front of the class,
stretched out like the Orginal Gangster
to put his Thang Down:

"Yeah, well, like--"

He has the class eating out of his hands,
admittedly, including me, he's such a player,
no one knows what is going to come out of his mouth--
my own mouth is twitching at the corners with a grin,
my eyebrows furrowed in a "Really?" Here we go.

"Like when I meet a girl,
it's all about, like, _intrigue_.
You know. I talk to her
to put out my intrigue vibes."

The class looses it. WTF? Intrigue?
He's a blonde Shaggey. There ain't no intrigue
under a puddle.

I try to look serious, but I can't.
I simply can't.

I start laughing.

And I don't stop.

I cover my face with both hands,
turn my back to the podium, to the class,
and laugh.
I wave at my face to get oxygen.

1/3 of the class is loosing it too,
1/4 of the class seems confused,
and the rest are becoming uncomfortable/worried, I guess.
'Meniacle laughter' doesn't cross
my mind until much later.

For a split second, a sharp fear
that I will never ever regain control
ever again.
Then, overwhelming grief. Shame.

I turn around, I must dismiss them,
the door is in the back,
laughing, Batman meets Joker, "Well, that's it--
your homework for Monday . . ."
That phrase gets me back in a groove.

I step out into the atrium/cafe
of this posh new building and make my call.
A student skips out on a conference--thankfully.

I walk outside, through an amazingly
cultivated landscape with golden trees
and fountains--and for the first time,
I hate it all.

I hate how artificial the architecture is,
the system of education,
how hopelessly artificial I have become.


THEN:

I've lost my keys. I trek all over campus
looking for them. I haven't eaten all day
and it's 4:00pm. I have a worrisome,
suspcious notion that the keys are in my bag,
that I just can't see them. That the psychosis
is keeping my brain from registraring them.

I take off my shoes and wonder down a slope
of pines toward the parking lot.
The grass feels soft and lovely.

For a moment I know who I am--
a nymph. I was meant to wonder the trees,
make love, and eat small bites of fruit
with cheese. The wind feels lovely in my hair.

"Which way are you trying to go?" A suit asks.
Bastard. With his bourgeois hair, glasses, and loafers.
"I can unlock the buiding for you."

I float past, smiling, shaking my head no.



It took five hours for my partner
to bring an extra set of keys and another hour & 1/2
to get home.

I didn't want to come home.
And I don't want to be here now.

I canceled all classes for Thursday and Friday--
so, you catch me in the midst
of my Mental Health Weekend.

Hope all of you have happy mental health this weekend too.