On negative pragmatism, cautious optimism and pre-emptive self-sabotage

On Negative Pragmatism...
I started a Masters in Public Policy to get away from the woolly concepts of poli sci (my unfortunate choice of poison in undergrad) so that I could pursue something that seemed imminently practical and practiceable. What do I land straight into? A philosophical assignment, apparently.
In one of life's great ironies, I find myself back in the thicket of the intractable and tautological thought processes that I had spent my entire undergrad trying to avoid (Confucius v. Mensius, anyone?). Just my luck.
So what did I learn this week at this imminently sensible, professional school? NEGATIVE PRAGMATISM. I tell you, life is a cruel joke, and I am at the butt of it. So, a bright bloke named Karl Popper (he must be bright, as he fancied himself an expert at philosophy, that unending train of thought that seeks status as an avademic discipline) sought to practice negative pragmatism. In lieu of maximizing personal happiness--a woolly concept that he thought was too elusive to bother pursuing--he advocated minimizing suffering. (The pill-)Popper justified this depressing (though probably true) turn of events in light of "the absence of any moral symmetry between happiness and suffering". If Popper had his way, the US' Declaration of Independence will read that we should have the right to "life, liberty AND THE MINIMIZATION OF SUFFERING." It just doesn't have the same ring to it, eh?

On Cautious Optimism
Nevertheless, I have decided to give optimism a try, since my mother insists that I try to live by "The Secret" (some fancy self-help book she got on discount). Shame she doesn't let me on the great secret.
Thus, I will give the Public Policy thing a fair shot.
Another side-effect of the cautious optimism? I decided to try and extend an olive branch to THE EX. I really should know better. In an ideal world, all exes should part with a "well, we tried, what else can you expect?" sort of shrug. The aforementioned exes should also keep in casual contact (a sort of cyber booty call) and laugh about the entire experience ("youthful passions," "puppy love," etc) at some socially-accepted juncture in the not-so-distant future. Alas, it was not so. My olive branch was spurned. No, in fact it was burned. If Thomas Friedman has anything to say about it, I should start a protracted conflict in my indignation resulting from the dismissed olive branch. I hope it lasts for generations, and a pair of star-crossed lovers crops up somewhere down the line of our descendants, just to add some garam masala to this whole humiliating experience, if only so my romantic misadventure will look better by comparison.

On Pre-emptive Self-Sabotage...
I am a sucker for causality. Drawing a line of causality through the random events of my life is one of my greatest pasttimes, allowing me to delude myself into thinking there is some greater pattern emerging from all the mis-steps.
Another such cause-and-effect sequence is my self-destructive behavior towards members of the opposite sex. I've decided to kill any chance of anything ever happening between me and all remotely eligible males by scaring them off with the scariest comments ever. I come off as a deprived, sadistic nymphomanic with cannibalistic tendencies. Charming.
I really needn't bother so hard. I'm pretty sure that the above description is pretty accurate, but if that is my true nature, it will creep out eventually without my advertising it.
Perhaps I am just going through the classic stages of a romantic meltdown. You know: denial--> angst--> self-destruction--> creative frustration--> amnnesia-->disastrous romance-->repeat cycle. It would really bring me great comfort to know that negative pragmatism, cautious optimism and pre-emptive self-sabotage will be coming around again.