Hmm.. I may have to make a new category for this stuff.

Emotions and I have always had an odd relationship.

For the first 12 or so years of my life, all my emotions were intense. I didn't do anything in half-measures. When I was excited, I was ecstatic; when I was sad, I was downright depressed.

For the next 12 or so, it became a dichotomy; My happy states were often hard to define. I didn't (and still don't) smile much--even when I'm really happy. I didn't (and still don't) show my feelings much. At that time, a significant aspect of that was that I was hiding my emotions. I was countering the way I was for the previous 12 years. However, my low moods got even lower. There were a lot of times when I hit the bottom of the barrel with a forceful thud. ... and then started digging.

For a about 6 years after that, I kind of bounced around emotionally, not really feeling much of anything. There were a few major points (high or low) spread throughout, but nothing consistent.

For the last 6 or so years, things have leveled out. I'm much more in control of my emotions than I ever have been. I'm more stable, more consistent.

Throughout this all, there's been two apparent perceptions to my emotions by those around me: Either my emotions screamed out--often affecting those around me--or they were completely unreadable. Unfortunately, this last part seems to be even more the case these days. Part of being more "Zen" (for lack of a better term) is that it's made my emotions even harder to read. Combine that with the fact that my humor is extremely dry and subtle, and my idea of a smile rates as a "moderate frown" on anyone else's scale, and you've got a recipe for misunderstanding. Now... add my somewhat...umm.... "strong" personality on top of that, and my tendency to present myself authoritatively (yeah, that means "arrogant"), and you have the side-dish and garnish to go with that recipe.

What it basically comes down to is that people think I'm sad when I'm actually happy; that I'm angry when I'm slightly annoyed--or just being assertive with my statements; that I'm confrontational when I'm just presenting my view confidently.

There are those who, once they get to know me, realize what I'm actually like and just "shift the scale" about 3 steps to the right. "Hmmm... If it were anyone else, I'd say he's morose, but it's Blaze, so that must mean he's mildly contented."

I will say this, however: Nobody has ever seen me truely angry. Annoyed, miffed, cranky, even severely pissed off. But never angry. And that's a good thing. It's not something I've even seen much of, myself. It's something I hope that nobody else ever has to see.

So, for those of you who might be having a hard time telling what my mood might be at any given time, either use the "three places to the right" method, or--if you're daring--ask me. I'll tell you. And I'll be honest about it.

Part of my personal code (admittedly, a work in progress) says "Be loyal and true".

It means that a friend is a friend, and an enemy is an enemy. But there are others, too.

Unlike most people, I make a distinction between "friends" and "aquaintences".

A friend is someone who will get your support without hesitation and without question. A friend is someone of whom you ask the hard questions. A friend is someone to whom you're loyal, even when they're wrong. A friend is someone who tells you when you are wrong. A friend is someone who understands when you're honest with them--even if it hurts. A friend is someone who is honest with you--even if it hurts.

An aquaintence... is someone you hang out with when things are good.

I would rather have 3 friends who will tell me when I'm wrong, and listen to me when they're wrong, than 3,000 aquaintences who're just along for the ride.

So....

Which would you rather have?
Which would you rather be?

"Friends, Davey, don't need you to draw them a map."
--Gina Marie Wylie; Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Some of the things I post here--like "If..." or "Stood Up"--may sound as though I'm depressed, or that I have a bleak outlook. That's not the case.

I know that my demeanor comes across as though I'm unhappy. I don't smile much. I don't laugh a lot. I look serious.

That's just the way I am. I have a unusual outlook on life for a westerner; I try not to let things affect me. I try to keep an even keel. When I post about things here, things that seem to be depressing, I'm not complaining, I'm explaining.

I've found over the years that my mind and emotions don't work like others. I process information and experience in ways that those around me don't understand. I react in ways which are too subtle and too passionate. My normal state is stoic; my extremes dangerous and fierce. When things are stable, I don't speak of them. When clouds cross my brain is when the best words flow forth.

People--even people who have known me for years--look at me and wonder what I'm thinking. Wonder what I'm feeling.

Things I write here, emotions and observations, are my way of explaining myself.

I'm a hermit. But I'm a hermit because I've chosen to be. It's what feels right to me. But people don't understand the reasons behind it. They don't see three decades of experience and decisions that have lead to the way I am.

I fall between the cracks because that's where I belong. I belong to nothing because those things are not what I am.

This is my life.

It is what it is.

I was supposed to meet a friend today. We were going to do some shopping and just hang out for a little bit--my treat. I sent a message this morning saying "let me know if you're still up for it".

I received no reply.

Last month I invited a friend to come visit for our little town festival; a way to get away from some bad situations for a couple days. Everything was set--until a couple days before when she decided that there was something better she might want to do instead. She'd call and let me know.

I received no call.

I expected--as I always do--to be let down. But being right doesn't lessen the wound by much. It's still a disappointment; it's still a slap in the face.

I understand that people have busy lives, and I know that I'm not at the top of anybody's priority list. That's not a problem. But I would like to think that when someone plans something with me, that I'm at least worth a phone call when they cancel. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. Maybe that's not part of the way things are done anymore. It just seems that in this age of connectivity--cell phones, text messages, IMs, e-mail--it would be a simple matter to send a message saying "Can't make it. Maybe another day?"

I don't know how it is with people today, but to me it's an insult to be forgotten or ignored. It says I'm not worth the time. I'm not worth the effort. I sit and wait for the message to come. And the silence is worse than rejection.

People wonder why I'm a hermit; why I don't go out with people and do things.

Because there's always someone better. There's always something more imporant. There's always somewhere more fun.

There are only so many times a man can be slapped in the face before he learns to step back and not offer himself as a target anymore.

Sometimes, knowing you're alone is easier than hoping you're not, and being proved wrong.

I know where you are; for I have been there, too.
I know how you feel; for I have felt it, too.
I know what you fear; for I have feared it, too.
I know what you desire; for I have desired it, too.

Beyond that, however:

I see where you should be when you don't know where to look.
I see the steps you take when you feel like you're standing still.
I see the fire of passion within you when the world feels cold.
I see the path and the destination when all around you is black.

All you need to do is take my hand and walk beside me.

For sand and tea:

I just watched the movie "Dangerous Minds" again--it was on cable, and I had nothing else to do.

I have, for most of my life, been a teacher. For a few years, I was allowed to do it as a profession. I never taught in the inner city, but I can understand a large part of the difficulty involved. Teaching poetry to is difficult whether the students be hoodlums or hicks.

The problem isn't with the students. And it's not necessarily with the teachers. The problem is with the politics. W decided that there should be "no child left behind". But he has no clue what a child really needs. He was fed his meals with a silver spoon; he never had to use a knife to get a meal.

The problem with teaching our children is not with the children. It's with the teaching.

The conventional tactics say that they must learn the writings of dead English poets. Why?

Is Dylan Thomas more relevant that Bob Dylan?

Is Sir Thomas Wyatt more relevant than Snoop Dog?

Poetry is not about "classics", it's about touching minds an souls.

A message is meaningless unless it's relevant to the one it speaks to.

We make our students recite the First Amendment... yet we deny them the freedom of speech. We talk to them of the Fourth Amendment, yet we search them based only on rumors. We tell them to respect authority, and then we give them every reason not to.

Our students don't learn beacause of the system; they learn in spite of it.

Why is striking down laws against gay marriage "judicial activism", but striking down the 6th Amendment isn't?

I want to change the world. I truly do. I often wonder what I might have accomplished if I had taken a political path early in life, and kept my nose clean.

I can't do that now. I can't run for any office higher than school board member because my past would come out; I have far too many skeletons in my closet, and I've made far too many enemies who play the game far too well.

I have friends who do marches and walk-a-thons--who donate money to good causes, and who solicit money for good causes. I have friends who have marched on Washington and staged a sit-in. I have friends who volunteer for re-election campaigns, and sit on political committees and participate in civic groups.

They are out to change the world.

And what do I do?

I can't take the world-view on this. I'm constrained by the vitriol of small minds.

So what do I do? I try to change the world one person at a time. I cast my voice upon the wind, but the chance of anyone hearing is slim. So I work to change the world one person at a time; one soul at a time. I talk to people. I teach students. I become a friend and mentor to young men & women . I attempt to shape them, direct them, show them their potential, encourage them, support them, and then pray to a loving and forgiving God that they take what I say to heart and go forth to change the world.

I am not the one to shape the face of the Earth. But perhaps, if I work very hard, I may have the privledge of being the one who teaches those who will shape the face of the earth.

If Satan were to stand on my doorstep and offer me rule over the whole of the earth for twice ten years in exchange for my soul.... I would be tempted. If the price was the confidence of those I trust and teach, there would be no question: I would turn it down.

I will never be known. I will never be one whose name is inscribed on monuments, printed in textbooks, or spoken of in classrooms. I will never be a Name. But I can hope that I will be a whisper in the back of the mind of those who *will*, one day, change the face of the Earth. My legacy is only a whisper in the back of a memory of those who will, I hope, change the world for the better.

Do I want to be a name? Yes. Absolutely. I want to be Charlemagne. I want to be Alexander. I want to be John Paul II. I want to be Stalin, or Khrushchev, or Washington, or Franklin.

But I know I won't be. Am I okay with that? I am. There are over 6 billion people in the world at this moment. Only a tiny fraction of them will become known. Only a tiny fraction of those will become a Name. And only a handful of those will keep that Name longer than the span of the current news cycle. I will never be one of those.

But I *can* affect the course of the future. And I am. One soul at a time. I can be proud of that.

"The word “hurricane” comes from the language of the extinct Taino people of the Greater Antilles and Bahamas, to whom it meant evil spirit. The word “loot” is Hindustani and traditionally meant the taking of booty by soldiers in war and by corrupt officials. It is now also commonly used to refer to thefts of works of art and antiquities. I am not sure when it started being applied to civilians in disaster situations. The Washington Post published an interesting article on the semantics of looting as used in the Katrina coverage and on the etymology of the word."

--copied word-for-word from "Sense from Seattle".