Deep Scars on Heels (Revalations)

New results revealed to me. I am quickly reporting them here to be seen.

Saw someone with red eyes. He showed deep and severe scars on his heels. He has been bitten by that huge snake.

I also had deep scars on my heels.

I have been right all along. WE both were bitten by the huge snake revealed in my dreams.

However, I am not exactly sure whether the huge snake and the one who looks like a walking, rotten corpse are one and the same.

The woman classmate I have been fighting against is the snake’s best disciple. She sleeps comfortably beside the huge snake, with its protection I think.

The man was targeted by the snake because he has done very well in his life. Before he was bitten, he was also clean. That is my belief.

I was targeted by the snake because I was doing very well before I was bitten. I am also clean, physically and spiritually. Clean and healthy. The snake represents spiritual decay.

That’s what I had been suspecting all along. When I started to work under the snake, the reality immediately revealed its truth to me. I had been warning the man ever since. But of course, many of the snake’s students made sure the man would not hear my weak voice of the truth. For one version of my side of the story, they immediately had ten other versions ready for his ears.

Therefore, not only did I have to fight for my own life. I had also had to in a sense fight for his, and telling him again and again what really was going on.

The good thing about me, or may be a bad habit of me is I handle situations mostly by myself. If I had gone to tell him all the injustices and malpractices, he might be alerted much more earlier. Or he might got fed up much more earlier. Who knows?

“I could do nothing about the situation,” was the answer. So I dealt with everything myself then.

I went to various University authorities when I could not get the situations straightened out.

It was not my purpose to go against the man. I had to report what actually was happening in that language program. I had to fight for my life and my reputation!

The snake uses the women as its tools for grabbing power, urging phd and master’s students to be high-end or low-end prostitutes.

She does not care a damn about the students. I did not toe the lines so I was almost crushed during those 1.5 years.

The most prevalent feature of the snake and her proteges is lying.

The very first time I went over there to work, my contract, according standard practice, should be one year. It was because of visa requirements. No student wanted to be found working illegally in the States.

When I got the contract, to my surprise, I found the contract stipulated as half a year.

I was a very careful person, which probably saved me that time.

I did not report this to the Supervising Professor. I directly brought the contract back to her and pointed it out half a year did not work for visa purposes.

The new contract was changed to one year. That, however, did not alert me. If I had remained highly vigilant, later things would not be that bad. Many more traps would be waiting for me down the road.

Each new instructor receives one section of 18 students. I received two sections of 45 students. Registration then was not monitored by computer. The Language Program regulated it within itself. The two course coordinators controlled students’ distribution.

The next semester, I was going to have a lighter load since I had two overloaded sections in the fall, for I was due to be on the market looking for jobs.

Fall semester is the most crucial in looking for jobs, not the spring semester. Or shall I say they are both important.

The next semester, load was indeed light, 11 students. But it was at 2:30p.m. Almost all students were sleepy.

The next year, one week before class started, I was suddenly informed I was responsible for the entire class five days a week, not two days or three days a week, which I should get according to practice.

Another year busted.

For the spring semester, I was finally retrieved back to the English Department. This time teaching a much desired literature class. But since it was the first time, the reading load, which should stayed below 1000 pages all semester, reached over to 1,400 pages. It was my first time and I was too inexperienced. It was too heavy. It almost equalled a graduate course. Students were very unhappy. Though I cut out some down the road, it was still heavy. Of course it meant I was unhappy, too, for I had to finish all the readings beforehand, prepare for the classes, lead discussions, prepare tests, and grade all the papers.

The fall semester, the textbook recommended proved too difficult for freshmen. I finished my phd, so I could handle them. Freshmen college students are not happy with those readings. One master’s student in the office said that one should not set students up for failure. That opened my eyes. The textbook was recommended because someone might want to set me up for failure because students did not like the class, they would not say it was a fabulous textbook, that they totally enjoyed the class, therefore my ratings would not be in my favor.

Somewhere along the way I lost my sense on who is actively working against me. It does not seem to be a single case, or the workings of one individual.

The only one I ever hoped of getting support when support was in dire need did not respond. Since he himself was bitten, his first instinct is self-protection and self-survival. When he did extend, it was almost too late.

Therefore, in most cases, one has to rely on oneself. Self-protection and self-advocacy is extremely important. Relying on others is not a good strategy. It is too easy for others to wash their hands off of you.

I had been attacked by the snake. He was attacked by the snake. That formed some ally between us both.

There should be stronger ties and alliances. But abuse through the years has worn the ties and alliances thin.

The bottom line is I have not betrayed him. He must keep that in his mind whenever he tries to put things into perspective.

As to what he did towards me, I do not wish to note down here.

My dissatisfaction at my treatment has led to some honest words. But they were not intended to be harsh. That survey almost felt like somebody was purposely laying traps, for I had never received a notification email informing me that the entire evaluation system had changed that year. I guessed my own evaluations perhaps had been ambushed in the same way.

If a man believes conscious answers and choices never tell the truth, what is he going to rely on? He cannot honestly believe only “involuntary memory” can tell the truth.

Plus, Proust does not have the only channel to truth. He may be great. But the world has many more masters.

There are many more Masters of Modernism, many more female masters of alternative modernism. There are many more ways to getting to know the truth. The truth about art, about life, about spiritual understandings.

Since the results have been shown that I had scars on my heels, that he had scars on his heels. The case now is closed.

During times of test, it almost always means you have to take the most difficult way out.

Till today, I still do not know who that huge snake is. That woman was sleeping beside it. She must have known. If I could send her to prison there might be a way to know.

Where is my right shoe?

In fact, many women had come forward to destroy and plunder. I know this fully well. I do not know whether I should blame them or the man. Or everybody else might say I can only blame myself. I do not accept that understanding.

I do not accept that I have to blame myself.

At first I went too fast, and had to be slowed down and had my heart poked through. Now I went too slowly, because I am too tired. Every one is allowed to go ahead of me.

What personal religion is all this about? I am sick and tired of it all. I do not have a lifetime to waste.

If somebody comes in and prevents me from pursing my fulfillment, I am going to take their head off.

Return me my pearl! And my girl.

Somewhere along the way I came to vaguely understand why someone is saying “The Rivers of Belief” is wicked, from its initial prologue, to the contrasting images of the priest wielding his sword on the immutable land and the woman first prostrated in the water, but she later stood up with a sword in her hands.

The leading singer is sining “lay beside my heart and look into my soul, my friend.” I have laid beside someone’s heart and looked into his soul. I originally thought it was a good heart and an inspired soul.

I hope the result is. Too many trials. One too many!

Too much of life!!

Which straw killed the camel?


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