Purple Croissants

I think my brain exploded.

I was walking back from lunch at Beida Fujeng (the school where I teach) and I think my brain exploded.

I walked to class, but the pain melted away when I saw 88 thirsty admiring eyes glued to me. It really is a blast to teach these kids - out of the 440 students that Matt and I teach every week, only 8 are behavior issues, but thanks to St. Marcus, it's nothing a little love and logic can't handle. I don't know if I told you this, but right now Matt and I are team-teaching 10 classes a week. It's the gravy-est schedule this side of the Yangtze ... but I'm not going to argue. On our first week of teaching, two of the classes applauded as we walked in. As if being white, tall, and blond elicits an applause - kind of reverse racism. Kids still are taking videos with their phones of us after classes, snapping pictures, I even signed an autograph the other day. Teaching celebrities I guess.

Anyway, I made it through class. But on the bike ride home I couldn't tell my legs to move. I was pedaling slower than a weary corpse. I think I either blinked too long or blacked out momentarily because I may or may not have crashed / skimmed into a van. But I just flashed him a gringo smile and a due bu chi (I'm sorry), and he waved me away like an annoying mosquito. Well, after a two hour nap I wondered around like a zombie with a big schnoz, then proceeded to sleep from 9:50pm to 11:47am. I believe that's a Ricke record. I woke up walked to the bathroom, looked into the mirror and gazed into myself. I looked old. I looked weary. Purple croissants were underneath my eyes. It seemed as though my mammoth sleep has healed yet aged me.

But I think my brain has picked up the shrapnel and I'm glued together again. I just got done watching Gladiator with Tony and Tommy - two basketball friends. Hopefully Russell Crowe can be the fullback for the Word.

- m -