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Storm in brushing.

Yesterday one of my students has blown a lead early in my course. Unprecedented situation that has left the class silent stupor. For my part I confess that this event yet harmless really shook me.
few weeks ago, Jean-Charles joined Terminale S where j'officie as professor of History and Geography. For health reasons on which Parents do not want to linger when I met him (the young man is subject to severe anxiety attacks) JC has decided to change schools to prepare your tray at all serenity. JC
the specimen is typical, or even caricature, of high school come from a posh suburb. Brushing, jacket and matching pants, little gingham shirt, polished shoes. Only thing missing for the perfect mix of young neuilléen that the membership card of the fan club of Nicolas Sarkozy. JC speaks with elegance and openly displays the ambition to integrate Science-Po after graduation his high school diploma. In short, a boy certainly nice but whose personality has immediately attracted the indifference or even hostility from the rest of the class where the atmosphere is rather relaxed in even though most other kids are from the same environment .
Yesterday morning, while the students joined their place and I was leaving my satchel containing the red cardboard sleeve over my terminal, JC approached the desk and stood up facing me. While he was passing me rambling about an oral that would have been imposed the previous weekend, I watched an eye large drops of sweat beading on his forehead and followed with another unusual rolling his eyes in their sockets, physiological evidence of his obvious mental disorientation. From time to time JC stopped in the middle of a sentence and stared at me with his eyes suddenly motionless. While I tried to see clearly in his remarks and offered him a ride to the infirmary to lie down for a moment, the charming class representative passed him to join him. While continuing to stare me he raised his right arm and grabbed the girl by the shoulder to push violently away. This gesture gratuitous violence, coupled with his look haggard knotted my stomach. The class representative remained silent and watched with amazement concern our exchange surreal. Responding to the provocation she dared interrupt us to tell him of his thinking. While staring at me JC shouted against him:
- "You go to your place! "The class
froze. A heavy silence fell upon the classroom while BC, now silent, still staring at me. I then pointed to two students and came hard, using my sweetest voice, to convince the young man to reach the infirmary. He resisted a bit but ended up following my advice. Head down, under heavy escort, shirt soaked with sweat, he left the room. I saw in his eyes that he was lost.

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Living. The woman

Do not worry, I'm still alive.
If no new messages, animating my blog is just that these days I have no desire to write. Driving my twingo I write every day for new posts that I am unable to type once back in my apartment. When I force myself to write the result is bad (my last production was a disaster). So I abstain. Theoretically this pause is temporary but I do not know when I stopped. One week, one month, one year? Who knows?

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puzzle (revised).

Lily is my wife puzzle. Every day I collect the photos she sent me and tries to redial on my computer screen. I have all the essential elements of his anatomy. I know his face, his belly, his back, his black hair, her breasts, buttocks, her hips, her thighs, her sex, her feet and arms. The digital parts of this puzzle should shameless allow me to have today a complete picture of my dear Lily. Nevertheless, I still very difficult to develop a complete picture of the person. When I close my eyes I see an assemblage of images whose unity is beyond me.

For some reason I will not expose here, our physical meeting has been postponed to the end and I felt a terrible frustration. Obsessive torments me constantly, that of taste and smell her flower without waiting for the fruit she promised me.
Until we simply Long telephone conversations interspersed occasionally by carelessness sensual, imagining together our first contact outside the virtual space.

forced abstinence imposed by the current situation really painful to me because my ferocious sexual appetite has been tremendously stimulated by erotic telephone blunders of the past weeks. ( Crystal Ship Sailor ). This week, Miss A, charming and modest young lady in love with my person, has also failed to undergo the wrath of my libido. It is not so little that I have the opportunity to be tipped on my futon.
few days ago, A. indeed contacted me to offer me an output drive. Given the paucity of programs we have decided to postpone the release until the following week. While we were about to hang up my male hormones took over and made a proposal to my correspondent that I now quite ambiguous. Why does she not come home that evening, watching a DVD and keeping me company? His refusal
, preceded by a long moment of hesitation, did not surprise me beyond measure but I am convinced that I had only to push it a little bit to convince her to join me.
With hindsight I think I was right not to insist further. If Miss A. took the risk of being thrown into the lion's den I might take the opportunity to try something with it despite my lack of feelings towards him ... and while thinking of my dear Lily. We all escaped.

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Day Crab.

This morning, on entering the staff room, I immediately felt something was amiss. In this small, smoky room where teachers are waiting for the end of recess, the atmosphere is usually relaxed, even schoolboy, let alone the eve of a weekend.

Today the atmosphere was simply a disaster. I joined in silence one of the few vacant seats wicker while some colleagues greeted me with a pained smile and forced. Others do not even look m'accordèrent, eyes lost in the distance or simply attached to the ceiling or on their shoes.

Only once installed I discovered that the object of attention. C, very corpulent music teacher, was surrounded by his four colleagues talking in low voices. One of them gently encircled her neck while slipping him a few words in his ear. When freed himself from this embrace, I have come across a brief moment her eyes that I froze.
His eyes misted and reddened by tears, shouted "at relief.
Lost, I tried to understand the situation with me clinging to a few snippets of conversation exchanged in whispers by C. and those around him. She spoke in a news to share with his son's efforts to regroup and hold back the tears, of his intention to give battle to the end.
Miss A's mother confirmed my worst fears. A damned crab had taken up residence in the liver of C. and this, briefing the previous day by his doctor, had to share it with friends.
I'd love to get up and shake my arms out loud through the 120 pounds of pain and anxiety but it is something I'm not. I see people suffer capsized but I'm still not what those who know how to find the appropriate words and gestures.

few minutes later I heard that JP mentioned a few weeks ago on this blog (the post 22-10), when to him was going through his last days, also devoured from within by death-grip. The day before, I had been on the phone, where a pasty see, he assured me that he felt much better. I had so wanted a good year before I realized my blunder. The guy seems to hang on despite the dark shadow that hangs over his hospital bed. It will disappear soon unless I've never heard him complain of his condition. Here's what to me makes sense of the word "courage."

Some days, the ephemeral nature of our existence and jumps me violently in the face and immerse myself in agony the next day. As the years pass and I realize my end very close and that of my family.
Men are definitely not made to die.