Never Play Poker

My English teacher in my senior year of high school wrote in my yearbook.

He's a flamingly gay man who would hang little ornaments from his handlebar mustache around Christmas time. He is fearless and observant, and amongst other things, he wrote in my yearbook, "I could always tell how you're feeling by the look on your face; never play poker."

In the years since I've thought about that frequently. I've always thought that he misjudged me, in that I don't think he ever saw how I play the pokers of life. But perhaps he's correct, after a fashion. Don't play poker, David, because you wear your heart on your sleeve.

Today I was called extroverted. Really extroverted. I suppose I've become that way; I suppose it makes sense. My problems don't get internalized unless I'm afraid they're going to hurt someone. And even then, they're only hidden from the people they'd hurt. When I'm happy I act it. When I have something on my mind, I find someone to talk to about it. My thoughts are all out there in the world, being stored in some sort of human network between my friends and family.

I try to be fair. I try to only put things on people I know are willing and glad to accept them. I'd certainly do the same for them in an instant, because externalizing your thoughts also means you want to store some of other peoples' as well. This isn't gossip - it's empathy, joint problem solving, shared joy, philosophizing.

Some people don't work this way, certainly. I become frustrated with them when they close up and honored when they share a piece of their lives. Thoughts are a gift, a sign of affection, closeness and trust. The people I get along with best are open in this way. They provide and accept thought and desire, worry and fear, with grace and caring.

Internalization happens when it becomes clear that bringing something out into the open will hurt a person I care about, and, of course, this is something that happens frequently with big things and small. I'm not a gossip. I keep peoples' secrets and cherish them. Freedom of information, for lack of a better term, certainly only works when tempered by an appropriate amount of nondisclosure. Life, unfortunately, often means knowing when to keep your mouth shut.

And so, my teacher, unfortunately your observation is half the picture, as it necessarily must be. As much as I might appreciate thought and information, I appreciate my friends, family, and causes more. If I know something that might endanger or upset them with its careless enunciation into the open air, you will never find it out by looking at my face or asking me to answer questions.

Often it's difficult to tell which is the appropriate thing to do, and when that happens you'll find me at my most uncomfortable. The ambiguity of the decision doesn't change the consequences of making the wrong one.

So maybe he's right, and I shouldn't play poker.

Probably, though, it's because I'm just not crazy about the game.

Lost in Cambridge

I think I need a place to speak. I'm not sure about what. I need to keep writing something. I had the realization the other day that I hadn't written a piece of fiction in at least a year. That sort of thing has just ceased to be a part of my life. I'm becoming more and more of a kaishain in life than anything else; I spend from 7:30 am until 7:00 pm dealing with my work life as an employee. I have four hours to myself at night.

Even that time is being usurped; Tuesday nights are now game development night. Wednesday it's cards. Thursday it's Japanese. What do I do anymore? I'm ceasing to be more than the sum of the activities my environment imposes upon me.

There was a time when I wrote down my thoughts on life. On politics. On technology. On everything. There was a time when I encapsulated all that into little worlds, one at a time. There was a time when I enjoyed screwing with language just to see if I could. There was a time when I wrote just to write.

There was a time when I had things to say. I seem to have lost them, though, somewhere between home and Cambridge.

Maybe it's time to draw a map.