Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Recently I responded to a friend's blog in which she stated among other things that she often felt invisible. Recently, I'm afraid that I've shared that feeling a little too often.
In day to day life, it has always amazed me how some people can totally ignore you. How often have I walked down a street and said "hello" to people passing me going the other direction and they totally blow me off like I wasn't even there! How many times have I walked into a room full of people and experienced the "if I look the other way maybe I don't have to acknowledge him" syndrome. How is it that people can be so unfriendly?
Here at Sparks, most of my experiences have been just the opposite, especially with my friends on the Outdoor People team. I can't imagine anybody in that group blowing off anybody else.
However, over the past couple of weeks. I have found myself becoming the invisible man! I've tried out a couple of new teams. One that I just found on my own, but the other I was invited to join by a friend who was already there. In both cases, I had a few, (very few) people welcome me when I introduced myself, but then when I started to post on their threads - I was totally blown off like my post weren't even there to read! What's up with that!
I'm not angry about the incidences, just disappointed! The lesson I've learned from this though is to make sure that I'm always responsive to the new people who try to join in!
Thanks again to all of you out there who treat me as a friend! I deeply appreciate you!
Monday, April 16, 2007
I started a short bio in my journal and decided to post it as a blog, but it's too long for one post. Here's the 1st section.
On Being Me
I’ve always been a philosophical kind of person. Even as a small boy, I would at times go off by myself to think. Frequently, I would venture off to the meadow of my grandfather’s farm which was located just behind our house. There I could find all I needed to stimulate my imagination and feed my curiosities. There was a small stream that fed the remnants of a pond whose earthen damn had been washed away. The little spring was home to salamanders, frogs, snakes and bugs all which held a fascination for me. There was the foundation of an ancient barn that’s walls somehow ceased to exist, but still was home to a horse drawn seeder and hay rake from an earlier times that I knew nothing about but still became part of me. Lumber from the old barn could be fashioned into a clubhouse or a fort or simply a hiding place where I could be alone. The meadow itself was alive with wild flowers, and rabbits and pheasants and just a great place for a little boy to begin to discover his place in a much bigger world.
As I passed into adolescents, I never outgrew this need to think about my place in this world. My introspective journeys at this point were not always pleasant ones and my self image was less than perfect. Much of my going off by myself now was to feel sorry for myself. I had entered a time when I had learned that people who actually care for you can be cruel. I was only in elementary school when I started to let people tear me down. I was overweight and wore “husky” sized clothing, something that my mother seemed to have need to tell everyone. I also had a couple of uncles who seemed not to understand that teasing a young boy about being “chubby” would leave scars that would last a lifetime. After being teased I would often retreat to my meadow or to reading a book (my other retreat). Actually, I would often take my books to the meadow where I could escape to the adventures of Robin Hood, Swiss Family Robinson, Davey Crocket, Daniel Boone, or Robinson Crusoe. What fun it would be to live the adventures in those books. I dreamed of being shipwrecked on a lonely island managing life on my own or of fighting evil knights as a favor to King Arthur. I learned that adventures were found not only around the bend in the road, but also found with the turning of a page.
The transformation from “not so little boy” to teenager was filled with the typical bumps in the road that probably everybody experiences. The lack of confidence in myself, the devastating fight with acne, the scary attraction to girls and the awkwardness that accompanies the attraction and not knowing how to handle it. But also during this time came a realization that adventure was really there to those who sought it. My father was by no means a naturalist. He was an avid fisherman and hunter, but his interest in the outdoors was limited to what he could shoot or catch. It didn’t matter, what was important was that he took me along and gave me entrance to an enchanting world that I still enter at every opportunity – the world of the outdoors beyond the meadow. I loved both hunting and fishing!
Monday, March 26, 2007
1. The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20
Get An Email Alert Each Time WOODHEAT Posts