Tuesday, July 05, 2005

God bless America

Yesterday was independence day, and I only remembered once. A kid asked me the date, and after a great deal of thought, I remembered that yesterday was my country's most red, white, and blue day. This was the second time I had a fourth of July abroad. The first time was two years ago in Mexico.
I am a patriotic guy, but Fourth of July just seems silly at times. Its loud, bright, and gives me a headache; although an honest holiday for America, that seems too honest. We even launch large explosives into the air for no apparent reason, now that is an American holiday.
It was a terrible Fourth of July anyway. I began the day sicker than I was on Sunday, I am not sure why that happened, I got sleep and I was progressing. Either way, I felt terrible. I had to sub for Gina's class again, which I did not mind; however, I also had to teach an elementary school class. Thus, I was there from 9:00-6:00, even spending my two hour lunch break preparing for class.
There is a feeling that I get when I hate my job. When I worked for the CU Foundation: "Hello, I know that your television describes how horrible your old school is daily, but, do you want to give it lots of money? No? How about a little money?" I really hated my job. I would come home and think, "I have a good idea, drinking alone."
It has a physical sensation, I feel tight in my chest and I move awkwardly. It has a mental sensation, math. I take my salary, and I multiply it, I divide it, I justify it. I barter it, into little pieces. I think, "what did my day buy me today...a lamp, it bought me a nice lamp. My horrible day, was worth a very nice lamp."
This can only go on for about a week. If I have that feeling longer than a week, I will jump through any hoop to get out. Perhaps a window.
Yesterday, I felt it a little. Not a lot, not overly so. It was just a little much. Much of that pain is also from being sick. By the end of the day, I felt terrible. I began the day feeling bad, and each period was worse. At the end of the day, I had to take my swollen, fatigued self, over to an elementary classroom.
There I taught my elementary kids for the first time. I only have two, and their English is far worse than the kindergartners. This was a hard thing to tackle. I expected them to be products of this school. Instead, I had to start with words like, "bee" and "ladybug." Both were illiterate. One was better at English than the other, he is actually Vivian's brother.
I got to see teacher David teach them. He is the very serious and infamously strict teacher at the school. But people say he is good for a reason. I was dragging the class into pointless boredom. In a solid five minutes he had them enthusiastic and into the course material. It was amazing. Analogies of surgeons come to mind, and honestly don't seem silly. He knew exactly what to do, it was like breathing. It inspired me, and I did my best. It was better, but it was not good.
I got home, and felt terrible. My illness was back with such a vengeance. I simply passed out, disgruntled. The night's sleep was even worse. I woke up constantly and kept thinking of weird things. I kept thinking that my kids were in my apartment, and I had to teach them.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I do insane things in my sleep. Last night, if I had a pet, I would worry for its life. My plant was still alive, so that is good. Even more important, I am still alive (I do live on the ninth and tenth floors!). I am fairly confident that I slept walked upstairs and chased imaginary children. My dream was so vivid, and so clearly here, that it makes the most sense.
Furthermore, I now dream about people seeing me in my underwear. It is like ever other person who has that dream. I go to class, and the kids laugh. Or I get spotted from the windows in my apartment. I had that reoccurring all night long.
School has invaded my sleeping thoughts, but also my waking thoughts. I see people standing and I want them to sit down. I see lines and I want to straighten them out. I hear people speaking Chinese and I want to give them Xs. My sickness makes this all the worse. It takes some of my rationality, already dangling by a thread, and confuses it. Everything bleeds together. I am on a constant quest to educated, formalize, and stiffen. No yelling, no running, just learning.
Only one more day really. Gina comes back on Wednesday, so I only have to do this hectic schedule today. After that, I drop to an hour and a half a day. Not enough to survive if I did it all month. However, with this week, and another week as a substitute, it will be fine. Furthermore, I want to take in privates, which will help. Plus, I am ready to jump into a schedule of an hour and a half a day, maybe I will get better. Finally get a scooter. Finally get a cell phone.
I mentioned it before, I bought a plant this weekend. My sun room is actually pretty poorly named, as it only gets sun for about twenty minutes. The problem is that on that side, there is an apartment across the street from mine. It blocks out the sun when it otherwise would beam in here. Those twenty minutes are pretty spectacular if you like that sort of thing; however, it is inefficient for a plant. So I have the plant sitting on my balcony's edge. It is placed as safely as I can manage, but a good gust is all it would take. I have not named the plant yet, but I am thinking, Me.

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