Do you see people?
I think I might be losing my mind. Just in case, I decided to eat a cookie.
They are the best cookies! My super-hot wife made them: chocolate chip. They had the absolute perfect balance between doughy softness and crunch. I didn't know cookies could be made that well. I've had so many cookies throughout my life, and they'll often have burnt edges, be hardly baked in the middle, contain singed chocolate chips, or some such thing. These, however, were downright perfect.
I need to start writing more interesting stuff. I know it's just a blog, and I know I called it "rambling," but I should probably start some thing where I exercise my writing — especially finishing stories. I should probably write a bunch of mini stories — like one a day or something. I need to get better at writing small, choppy stories so that I get over my creeping little fears and inhibitions. I so often cower back from writing because I think it has to be something special. That's why I made Rambling in the first place: I didn't want to have to commit; I didn't want to be held to any sort of standard; I didn't want people to think I was really writing — just a bit of silliness, really.
Did you see Finding Neverland? I just quoted Peter Davies. He was always trying to be so mature and serious. Finally, when he let himself write a play, he made sure to excuse it as "just a bit of silliness, really." I would prefer instead to be like Mr. Barrie. He scarcely could separate his dreams from his fictions or his reality from his dreams — I don't know which. He saw. He saw things.
A little while ago, my dear friend Steven Petrillo got me "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain," a text- and work-book to help just about anyone learn to draw. In the textbook, the author, a Ms. Edwards, describes how drawing is just a matter of seeing. She described how, often when we draw, we revert back to childish approaches: drawing an eye as a circle with a dot; drawing a nose as a triangular lump; drawing hands as five little oblongs. Edwards wrote that we must see: not an eye but the smooth curves that cut around other smooth curves; not a nose but a dipping ridge set between two shaded regions; not a hand but many corners and creases all overlapping. I think that's how Mr. Barrie wrote: he saw. I want to see.
I also think of the movie Avatar (the one with the blue aliens). "I see you" was the Na'vi people's way greeting one another, but it was also a way of expressing connection and understanding. "I see you" was not meant to imply you are optically visible. Rather, it was meant to imply I carry an intimate understanding of you and your personhood. They saw. They saw each other. They recognized each other. They welcomed each other, respected each other, and even felt each other.
I used to work at a movie theater. I mostly was in the box office selling tickets. Almost invariably, customers would walk up, say, "Hi. How are you?", and look above me at the movie times. They did not see me. I jokingly referred to myself as an organic ticket-machine. As an experiment, I wouldn't respond to them until they asked for tickets to some showtime. They didn't notice. They were not looking for human interaction — at least not unplanned human interaction. I don't intend to defame anyone, but it still makes me wonder what humans are doing with their lives.
Do you see people? Do you see waitresses, tellers, customer service representatives, cashiers? Do you look at their faces — I mean really look? Do you notice eye colors ever? Do you notice freckles? Do you even notice name tags? Do you speak with them? I do not mean speak at them: commands, requests, or what have you. Nor do I mean the bullshit greeting "How are you good how are you." Have you ever taken the time to strike a conversation, share some questions, and draw out some insight? Do you see people? Do you see your friends? Do you see your siblings? Have you ever looked at your brother's face, wondering what hangs around his eyes? Have you ever looked at your sister's hair? Have you ever noticed your dad's beard? Have you ever looked at someone's hands while they're not paying attention to you?
I am a tutor. Often, I look at my students as they're working. I wonder — nothing in particular. I just wonder. Sometimes I wonder about their stories. Generally, I just wonder about their confidence, their disposition, or something like that. Have you ever listened to voices? Have you ever tried to hear the backstories behind voices?
I know. A close relative of mine hides so much pain and frustration. For anonymity, we'll call him Felipe. Felipe packs away so much disappointment with his financial situation, his wife, his job, himself. He stores it all away. Felipe has a pretty good blank-face: the face that shows you only politeness and vagueness. I have seen him cry one time. I don't even remember the topic. I just remember trying to get one question in edgewise. "How are you?" has been torn from reality by too many fools. "How are you?" doesn't really exist as a question for Felipe anymore — not one that ever summons a true answer anyway. Thus, I approached the same question with different words. I don't remember exactly what I said. All suddenly, Felipe starts crying. All suddenly, Felipe wipes his tears and redoubles his blank-face.
Felipe is not seen. Felipe is not heard. Felipe indeed digs himself into a lot of his own crap, but that doesn't excuse those closest to him. I try to see Felipe whenever I'm in the area, but, I fear, Felipe will endure many more years with a blank face and an empty heart.
Do you see people? Have you looked? Have you searched? It is not easy. It is not safe. It takes a lot of energy. Do you see people? Ask yourself: do I see people? Do I see my family? Do I see my best friends? Do I see my spouse?
Do you see people?
They are the best cookies! My super-hot wife made them: chocolate chip. They had the absolute perfect balance between doughy softness and crunch. I didn't know cookies could be made that well. I've had so many cookies throughout my life, and they'll often have burnt edges, be hardly baked in the middle, contain singed chocolate chips, or some such thing. These, however, were downright perfect.
I need to start writing more interesting stuff. I know it's just a blog, and I know I called it "rambling," but I should probably start some thing where I exercise my writing — especially finishing stories. I should probably write a bunch of mini stories — like one a day or something. I need to get better at writing small, choppy stories so that I get over my creeping little fears and inhibitions. I so often cower back from writing because I think it has to be something special. That's why I made Rambling in the first place: I didn't want to have to commit; I didn't want to be held to any sort of standard; I didn't want people to think I was really writing — just a bit of silliness, really.
Did you see Finding Neverland? I just quoted Peter Davies. He was always trying to be so mature and serious. Finally, when he let himself write a play, he made sure to excuse it as "just a bit of silliness, really." I would prefer instead to be like Mr. Barrie. He scarcely could separate his dreams from his fictions or his reality from his dreams — I don't know which. He saw. He saw things.
A little while ago, my dear friend Steven Petrillo got me "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain," a text- and work-book to help just about anyone learn to draw. In the textbook, the author, a Ms. Edwards, describes how drawing is just a matter of seeing. She described how, often when we draw, we revert back to childish approaches: drawing an eye as a circle with a dot; drawing a nose as a triangular lump; drawing hands as five little oblongs. Edwards wrote that we must see: not an eye but the smooth curves that cut around other smooth curves; not a nose but a dipping ridge set between two shaded regions; not a hand but many corners and creases all overlapping. I think that's how Mr. Barrie wrote: he saw. I want to see.
I also think of the movie Avatar (the one with the blue aliens). "I see you" was the Na'vi people's way greeting one another, but it was also a way of expressing connection and understanding. "I see you" was not meant to imply you are optically visible. Rather, it was meant to imply I carry an intimate understanding of you and your personhood. They saw. They saw each other. They recognized each other. They welcomed each other, respected each other, and even felt each other.
I used to work at a movie theater. I mostly was in the box office selling tickets. Almost invariably, customers would walk up, say, "Hi. How are you?", and look above me at the movie times. They did not see me. I jokingly referred to myself as an organic ticket-machine. As an experiment, I wouldn't respond to them until they asked for tickets to some showtime. They didn't notice. They were not looking for human interaction — at least not unplanned human interaction. I don't intend to defame anyone, but it still makes me wonder what humans are doing with their lives.
Do you see people? Do you see waitresses, tellers, customer service representatives, cashiers? Do you look at their faces — I mean really look? Do you notice eye colors ever? Do you notice freckles? Do you even notice name tags? Do you speak with them? I do not mean speak at them: commands, requests, or what have you. Nor do I mean the bullshit greeting "How are you good how are you." Have you ever taken the time to strike a conversation, share some questions, and draw out some insight? Do you see people? Do you see your friends? Do you see your siblings? Have you ever looked at your brother's face, wondering what hangs around his eyes? Have you ever looked at your sister's hair? Have you ever noticed your dad's beard? Have you ever looked at someone's hands while they're not paying attention to you?
I am a tutor. Often, I look at my students as they're working. I wonder — nothing in particular. I just wonder. Sometimes I wonder about their stories. Generally, I just wonder about their confidence, their disposition, or something like that. Have you ever listened to voices? Have you ever tried to hear the backstories behind voices?
I know. A close relative of mine hides so much pain and frustration. For anonymity, we'll call him Felipe. Felipe packs away so much disappointment with his financial situation, his wife, his job, himself. He stores it all away. Felipe has a pretty good blank-face: the face that shows you only politeness and vagueness. I have seen him cry one time. I don't even remember the topic. I just remember trying to get one question in edgewise. "How are you?" has been torn from reality by too many fools. "How are you?" doesn't really exist as a question for Felipe anymore — not one that ever summons a true answer anyway. Thus, I approached the same question with different words. I don't remember exactly what I said. All suddenly, Felipe starts crying. All suddenly, Felipe wipes his tears and redoubles his blank-face.
Felipe is not seen. Felipe is not heard. Felipe indeed digs himself into a lot of his own crap, but that doesn't excuse those closest to him. I try to see Felipe whenever I'm in the area, but, I fear, Felipe will endure many more years with a blank face and an empty heart.
Do you see people? Have you looked? Have you searched? It is not easy. It is not safe. It takes a lot of energy. Do you see people? Ask yourself: do I see people? Do I see my family? Do I see my best friends? Do I see my spouse?
Do you see people?
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