Clear Intentions

His lips parted...

Slowly, a final breath climbed
out of him, as his chest contracted outward,
his abdomen clinched as his shoulders raised,
matching the hairs on his arms and neck...

His intentions are clear.

Throughout time his gaze has separated reality
from fictitious accounts of fantasy found in the
dreams of young men. He has been intent on
performing this moment, with these exact
actions, ever since he decided to take his
final breath.

With his final breath, he began to position
himself for the greatest challenge of his known
existence; The outcome has played over and
over in his mind and now it was the moment of truth...
Licking his lips, his nose is greeted by a minty
scent of security.

The moment had arrived.

His arm extended, his right hand opened as
his right leg bent in a downward motion
so that his knee would gently press upon
the floor...

And as their eyes connected, her lips parted...

And slowly, a final breath climbed
out of her, as her chest contracted outward,
her abdomen clinched as her shoulders raised,
matching the hairs on her arms and neck...

Her intentions were clear.

As he replayed the events over and over in his
mind, he realized all of her movements that night
matched his...all but one...for she was moving
towards him, as he took the last breaths of his own
life and entered into theirs.

An Epiphany

This is an attempt to reveal that the
simplest questions may not always
have the simplest answers...at least
not for this guy, the voice below.

There's one question that he always has trouble
answering. It's the question that drives him,
yet it's also the question that he never feels
he has ever been able to accurately answer...

Who are you?

Disguising his inability to respond quickly, his
clever retort is also a common pet peeve,
answering the question with a question...
"What exactly would you like to know?"

Brilliant! Perfect! Now, instead of hesitating,
thus divulging his secret, he has placed the ball
in the inquirer's court. So, if his answer isn't
sufficient, it will not be his fault, because he
has responded to the "clarified question".

Who are you...well, I guess, what do you enjoy
doing?

Ha! Now, he can choose to address this many
different ways. He can give generic answers
with a couple of specific things to make the
inquirer feel that he attempted to answer.
Rarely, if ever has his bluff been called,
because he is a "wordsmith", a clever
smooth talker; one who studies his interviewer
and responds according to his/her facial
expressions, but not really answering the
question.

Who are you?

If they only knew...If they only knew that
I haven't been able to answer that question
for years. Sure, I can be defined
by my associations, my memberships, my
occupation, my hobbies...but truthfully
those things don't define me. As the
popular and powerful phrase states,
"I define me!" Yet, I have no idea...
I have no idea who I am...

I have placed myself in so many situations,
damaging my perceived character,
all for the cause of helping others.
My dad told me that I had a big heart and
that one day it would get me in trouble...
My dad is always right because I have seen
more troubled days than I would like to admit.

As I'm thinking right now, I have had an
epiphany. I think I know who I am now. So,
I shall restate the question and then answer it.

Who are you?

I am a troubled man...one who continues to

seek an elusive dream,
an elusive dream that, with each day,

grows more and more into my greatest joy.

I am a troubled man, who is seeking Peace of
Mind, so that one day I may truly rest.

Hmmm...I wonder if I should tell the next person who
inquires, "Who are you?" That would be a
great way to begin a conversation, don't you
think?

The Lesson, Chapter One

This is Chapter One of my novel, The Lesson...a story

of finding something you never knew existed.

"Raise your hand if you would like to read a color," announced
Mr. Anderson, surveying the room for any inappropriate behavior.
From right to left, his eyes scanned each group of desks, each isle,
the door and then, finally, he regained the courage to turn his back
and began to write.

"Laurie."

"Green, Mr. Anderson. I always want my favorite color."

"Just making sure it's you and not an alien using mind control
over you," laughed the sci-fi loving educator. Mr. Anderson often
made jokes, not for the students to enjoy, but because it put him in
a better mood.

"David, red right?"

7th Grade English classes began and ended the same way, every
day, for the past 10 years. Students knew what to expect from
Mr. Anderson, and Mr. Anderson made it clear what he expected.
Work. Hard work. If students were looking to have fun, they knew
they would not find it in Mr. Anderson's room. Sure, there were
laughs, maybe some jokes, silly comments and possibly a movie or
three during the year, but not fun. Just work. Group work maybe,
but hard work, nonetheless.

It was a known fact that anything said in his classroom

and anything that may have occurred in the presence

of the students and Mr. Anderson could appear on an

assessment. This could have worked in the students'

favor, if they were paying attention, had a great memory

or were great at taking notes! Three years ago, two boys

were discussing the latest video game while Mr. Anderson

was teaching and their exact conversation was used in a

quiz on quotation marks!

Til this day, his students can't figure out how he was able
to teach, listen to their conversation and remember exactly
what the boys said. Consequently, the boys earned lunch
detention for talking during instructional time. If you were

to ask them then or even today, those guys would say

it was well worth it. To have their names and their

conversation used on the quiz made them instant legends!

There was once a fire alarm that interrupted an assembly.
He used this situation as an essay question to measure his
students' ability to create a poem, that incorporated

figurative language, to describe the incident.

Mr. Anderson also used conversations he overheard in the

hallways. He used them in grammar lessons.

Most conversations were spoken using incorrect grammar,

so his students were assigned the task of correcting the

sentences. They were also assigned a week long project

to create a comic strip using those sentences.

"So, today we are going to begin our winter project. We are going
to create a game to help us learn our vocabulary words. This game
can be used in all of your classes so it's very important that we pay
attention and follow all directions."

Could this be true?

A game? A game in Mr. Anderson's class?

Could this be the first game ever played in Mr. Anderson's class?

The student's were...confused and excited, an amazing combination
of emotions to say the least. Mr. Anderson had always made several
comments about how games did not have a place in his classroom,
how playing is for gyms and playgrounds or extra-curricular activities,

not for learning, not in his classroom.

Mr. Anderson's beginning of the year speech began like this:

"This isn't recess or P.E. This is a learning environment. In this

particular learning environment, we must have order. We must

have order, structured procedures and high expectations of

behavior. If one of these things are lacking, effective learning

cannot occur. And if there is one thing that I will not stand for,

it is someone, much less more than one person, hindering

another's education."

Yet, here it was...on this day, Mr. Anderson seemed to contradict
his very being with every word he uttered. He continued his

project introduction speech, "you will be grouped and each group

will be assigned different aspects of the project to complete. If one

group is slack, the entire project will crumble and all of your work

will be for not." Mr. Anderson sometimes used words like slack,

not to try to be cool, but it was one of his many ways of getting his

point across.

Students were in shock. Carrie, who was the youngest of four

siblings, two older sisters and one slightly older brother,

all who had experienced the wonderfully talented Mr. Anderson,

secretly sent her older brother Ronald an instant message

spreading this unbelievable news. Ronald replied, "it must be

a joke or maybe he has finally gone off the deep end!" Another

student, Daniel, actually thought about raising his hand to ask Mr.

Anderson if he were feeling okay, but decided against it.

No one ever wanted to get on Mr. Anderson's bad side. Although

there were not any games (as of yet) in his classroom, Mr. Anderson

would give students a lot of control over how lessons were taught

and how work would be completed. No one wanted to give up

such power and freedom.

There were stories of how Mr. Anderson stripped one class of

their "rights as students." Mr. Anderson did not

speak to them for three weeks! Not even in the hallways or cafeteria!

In fact, before those students were allowed in his classroom, each

had to have a pencil (already sharpened) in one hand and a

binder in the other hand before being allowed to enter his room.

Then, once inside the classroom, all of their assignments would be

on a PowerPoint. The slides went through each section of the

lesson, just like it normally would, only no one read or explained

them. Mr. Anderson would not allow those students to

volunteer to read the color coded slides, which always included

very cool graphics. The colors sometimes represented the

difficulty of words, or the amount of words students had to read.

Mostly, this was a way that Mr. Anderson discovered, as a young

teacher, to get the most reluctant students to participate in his class.

Mr. Anderson believed that all students needed something to

identify with and as adolescents, colors were a big part of their

waredrobe, which in turn, were a big part of their lives. So,

his lessons would always make some kind of connection with

his students.

Each slide was on a timer, so if students didn't

write or read fast enough, the slide would automatically change

and those students would miss out on that information. Anyone

who spoke more than twice would receive a referral to the office.

And the principal supported him! Can you believe that?!

Mr. Anderson was really good at documenting things and

retelling events exactly how they occurred. This was his bread

and butter when it came to discipline. Going against Mr. Anderson

was like going against an army. A kid didn't have a chance!

Mr. Anderson was really stubborn and always kept his word, even

when it seemed improbable. So, for students to know this about

their teacher, how was it possible for him to switch

gears like this? What had happened to Mr. Anderson? Were there

aliens controlling his mind? Is that why he overused that lame joke

on a weekly basis?

No, those were silly questions. The reality was that there

was definitely something going on, but no one wanted to rock this

boat. Think about it. If Mr. Anderson is introducing one game,

who's to say he wouldn't allow more "fun" and "play" to happen

in his class? The possibilities were endless! And anyone

walking by his classroom on this day, at this time, could see these

endless possibilities dance across every 7th grader's mind

simultaneously, as Mr. Anderson introduced this new and exciting,

but very different project.

Looking in the Mirror

In reflection of this piece, I feel it is necessary to share that
at times I have these moments of clarity. This piece is an
expression of one of those moments, where I recognized
some things about myself that I may never reveal, yet the
process in which this discovery was made, is one that
I felt I needed to share.

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I began to wonder
when my face became so familiar. I began to wonder when
my facial hair began to grow, when my mustache and chin
hair connected, when my nose hairs began to grow out of my
nose...and I can't remember...

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I began to wonder
when was my face rounder, when was my face slender, and
if I even knew it was either round or slender
without seeing pictures or having someone tell me I gained
or lost weight...and I can't remember any of that...

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I began to wonder
when my face began to change from laugh lines to trace lines
for an occasional scowl, where did these lines come from
that I'm finding in my face, or when my ears disappeared because
those things were huge! Wait...my ears still stick out from my
head (just pulled my hair back, darn it!)
but I don't remember when that other stuff began...

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I began to wonder
if I enjoyed my growth spurt, if my voice ever changed with the
dramatic screeches in the midst of excitement, or when I grew
all this body hair (my future wife will enjoy this I'm sure, Ha-Ha)
but I can't remember...

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I realized that I do not
look at myself. I have not looked at myself with the intent of
finding new things or to remind myself of who I am, even though
I look when I shave or to wash my face or to see how my clothes
may or may not fit. I am surprised that I haven't stopped and
stared because today I found that I didn't recognize myself...
I look familiar...but I do not appear to be the person I have
envisioned myself to be...and that has placed
a great smile on my face!

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I realized that
I am changing! I was looking at myself in the mirror and
I realized that if I'm not who I envisioned myself to be, then
who is this man that everyone else sees?
I realized that this is an opportunity, a grand opportunity that
I have each day; because with each day the changes mentioned
above had to have happened...slowly, but purposefully, they have
occurred, developing over time because with progression there
must be change--so I have this opportunity to project the on-going
production of an evolving man to the world that I am attached. I
realized that I have the opportunity to make lasting impressions
with small, maybe even unnoticeable gestures because
over time, those gestures will create a great change
in the world around me.

I was looking at myself in the mirror and I realized that
I am changing...I was looking at myself and I began to accept
these changes...I began to embrace these changes...I began to want
more changes to occur...
Because with any progression, there must be change!

Seconds Please

This is an abstract piece that I hope will generate many
ideas or questions as to what it is I'm speaking of. I enjoyed
writing this, for saying one thing several different ways is
as exciting to write as I imagine it is to read...Enjoy!

Seconds please, yes a little more;
Not just on one spot either, even it out
All the way around...I'm not shy about
It at all.

I know what I like and I have always known what
I've wanted; too bad for some, they misunderstood
that when I had others I was doing so out
of my own ignorance...silly isn't it? For someone to
feel that they know what's best for you, when they
themselves have not what makes them
Want more...Seconds please, yes a little more...because
when I figured out what I wanted, that made me want
other things. Contradiction maybe? Not quite, because
how else could I grow to appreciate how special, delectable,
unique, and amazingly wonderful what I know I wanted
really was if I'm not immersing myself within the confines of
what I know I couldn't possibly desire?

Still not following? Maybe that's a good thing. It's my
Mad-Hatter Matter-of-Fact Formula to ultimate bliss
and eternal peace, so now, as I sleep without a care, there's
only the calming realization that I now have what I wanted...
Seconds please, yes a little more...

I would take time to explain but my wise father told me
"That would be a waste of time,
Say what you mean and mean what you say,"
so I'm saying now, that there isn't enough time to spend with what I
have always wanted and as soon as I have what I have wanted,
I'm definitely ready for seconds;
Not because I'm greedy.
It's only sweet motivation to finish what I
have started, slowly, deliberately, purposefully,
enjoying each moment,
So that I may begin again...a sweet redundancy.
Fresh...warm...fulfilling...PERFECT FOR ME...

So, seconds please...yes a little more;
Not all in one place, spread it all around...I'm not shy about it at all...

I Haven't Written In A While

I haven't written anything in a while so I decided to write
about not writing. This took me about 10 minutes to get
out and again I will not edit it until maybe sometime later
if needed...thanks for reading all of the previous blogs and
please continue reading!!!

It's interesting that I haven't written anything since January.
I wonder if its because I've let my life become too busy or
if it's just a matter of feeling as though I don't have anything
to contribute to the world. Seems like a pretty long time not
to have anything to say. With all of the inspiring things around
me, from students to family and friends, strangers in the day,
nothing has stimulated my mind to generate a single thought.

I decided when I began this journey of a blog not to force myself
to write. So, as readers read my work, I guess its safe to say that
everything I write just flows out. I very seldom edit my work
once it is written, which I'm sure is a horrible habit to have as a
writer. What does happen is that I will receive comments and
questions about what I meant and then, I will go back and adjust
my words or phrases.

I dare not say that I'm some sort of Jay-Z type where it just comes
out flawlessly in one take. I generally have an idea or three in my
head as a work in progress and then one day it's like BAM! Guess
that's how God works!

Oh...Congrats to the Saints! New Orleans deserves this!
Sincerely,
A Lifetime Colts Fan

I Can't Imagine

I am writing this without any attempt to
edit this piece, because if my emotion caused
an error, for now, I want it to be shown...as
this is my expression towards the tragedy that
has occurred in Haiti.

I can't imagine coping with such loss,
Separation through devastation for lack of
a better phrase, a Horrible price...
Images, video and Stories weaken the heart,
Realizing that Reality is Too Real to be True,
Hoping that for once, time Eludes us,
So that we can look back, instead of living
through the Nightmares of others...

A coward's words? Not quite...
an Empathetic Heart's Cry is more accurate;
Accepting what is real...Must be done,
so this is more of a vision of what we hope to be.

I can't imagine what Fills the mind
of those feeling Chosen to be left Behind,
Twisted Confused Hearts aching while
Hope resides in the souls of All,
The Spirit of Man, Woman, and Child
reaches out through song, speeches and
Bright Watered Eyes...
there is so much to do...
there are many ways to help...
there will be opportunities to lift others...

I can't imagine Not Helping...
I can't imagine Hearing Cries for help...
I can't imagine seeing someone being saved,
knowing there are countless numbers of others
that may not...I can't imagine Not Being Able to Do
Anything, But Wait...and Wait...and Wait...
And Scream...and Scream...and Scream...
I can't imagine....

I can't imagine what is in front of my eyes,
these Images on the screen, this Entire travesty...
I can't imagine what is real, from so far away...
in what is in front of Everyone...
I Can't Imagine...