Bloody nose day

I didn't post this on my groundhog post, but groundhog day this year has been officially deemed by me as the bloody nose day. In my first class, one person left the room plugging her nose. I can only assume that she had a bloody nose. I don't personally get bloody noses very often, but yes, even me, in my fourth class started to get the bloody runs dripping through my nose. When I was writing a long essay question about the reading (which the teacher does sometimes instead of quizzes... I'll say here I like the long essay questions a lot better than quizzes, because I may have not caught on to what she put on the quiz). Naturally it would happen then. I'm sure the teacher would have allowed me to leave then and take care of it and write the quiz thing after, but I didn't want to worry about that. So what did I do? I grabbed my nose and tried with one hand to open the newly bought (good timing that...) package of tissues, which I have since learned is impossible. The person next to me helped me open it and get a tissue out. I held it to my nose (by this time the teacher had noticed my distress, and seemed about to ask me if I needed to take care of it) and I continued writing. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but ah well. I finished everything I had to say and left to take care of business. I talked about the experience with my classmates as we waited for our next class. I found it highly ironic that I should have a bloody nose on the same day that someone else in my class left class for it. Even more ironic? Someone in that next class also had a bloody nose. I come home and tell Pro Boxer, and what else?? He had a bloody nose as well.

It was a bloody nose day.

On to other things.

I don't know what to talk about. I have so many things, I hesitate spending the time updating you all, you all. Yet here I am. Maybe I'm just prolonging having to write a quiz that I have no idea how to write. There is a midterm that I'll have to start putting together... lots more meetings with the students still (tomorrow will be the last big day, but there are a few still after that), other things to plan for, lots of other things to plan for... Japanese club, Jazz Band stuff... Essay to write (I just turned one in today...), stuff. Just lots of.... stuff.

As for my emotional and spiritual health... there is lots of stuff to do with that as well. My ... employer? manager? whatever he is, the teacher that I'm working for (who shall be known on here as The King) seems determined to help me feel better about myself or maybe he just wants to fix things - he's a guy, you know? I'm not sure how much I have talked about The King on here, but let me give you a run down. He was my teacher for a class last year. No idea how much of an impression I made on him, but he made a pretty big (and very good) impression on me. The class was Beginning Creative Nonfiction. I was merely taking it to graduate. I knew I wanted to focus more on Fiction rather than... really anything else. But The King is such a good teacher, that he can make me feel like I can do what I once thought impossible. It is all because of him that I am now taking the Adv. Creative Nonfiction. He got me to love it. There is something somewhat liberating about writing about my own life. Which is maybe why I continue to post on here, I suppose. Maybe I always loved it, but he got me to realize that. I call him The King (only on here) mainly just as an inside joke that only I get. Well, he would too if he ever read my blog, which I doubt.

Whatever the case, I must have made some sort of positive impression on him, because when it came to choosing a TA for his class this semester, he came to me. He called me up telling me that he needed to give the people a name that day. Which leads me to believe (I have never asked him) that he didn't really know that he had to pick someone and he had to make a snap decision. Whether or not that is true I have asked him once why he picked me. I hadn't applied, in fact, I had to go through the application process after I had already landed the job. His reply? I was on his short list of people that would work well. Smart, well-spoken, reliable, motivated. But "for reasons [he didn't] quite understand, [I] seemed like the right choice." And yes, that is a direct quote, because he sent this to me via txt, and I have locked it so I won't ever lose it. I'm LDS, "Mormon," whatever you want to say. I can read between the lines and see the possible revelation lying there. I can't quite remember his wording on this, but he has told me something to the effect that he wishes to cure me of my hatred for myself and to get me to see the good in me, I guess - he's a guy - he sees something needing fixing - he must fix. He has read some of my poems, he has read a lot of my work for the class I had with him last year. He is a great reader and can see the bitterness behind my words. I have had txt discussions with him about religion, faith, trials... and for some blasted reason, I can listen to him. He isn't telling me anything any different than what my friends and family would tell me to get me to gain my faith back. He tells me that it is God blessing me. Whether or not that is true... somehow his words are able to strike a chord with me. I'm still bitter. I'm still angry. I laughed at him when he told me that he wanted to help release me from the lack of faith in myself.

I told The King today that I'm just bombed. I'm so loaded down with so many things that I need to do (and really should start working on them rather than writing here), and that I blame him for it. I truly feel like I'm going to break, and break soon. He tried to help me feel better by saying that I'm doing an amazing job. Because of the person that he is, I know he was being sincere. "Yes," was my reply, "but there is only so long that I can continue to be great in everything that I am doing before I break." (this statement I'm just now beginning to realize, The King might have been pleased with his work... normally I would have scoffed at his compliment, but here I accepted it and said that I was great in other aspects as well...)

"And think of how great it will be if you come out of this without breaking."

Yeah, that was his ever optimistic reply. I believe him. I can't not believe him. I accepted this job because I believed him. But at the same time, I can't not think of the negative in that. And think of how much more depressed I'll be if I do break. Cause I see it happening in the near future. Sure when things calm down a bit (after this week -meeting with the students about their first essay- is over) maybe I won't break then. But test making, quiz making, 30 page essay writing (for the Adv. Nonfiction class - I blame The King for that as well), the concerts, the reading Shakespeare plays, more essay writing.... I truly believe that one of these days this semester I am going to break.

I wonder what The King will have to say when that time comes.