Skip to main content

I Used to Wear Eye Glasses Too

I shut my eyes in order to see.
-Paul Gauguin 1843-1903


I have some severe issues with eyeballs. They seemed to follow me around everywhere I go.
My issues started when I was about 7. I walked into the living room on a sunny spring day and my mother and brother were sitting on the beige couch that had a brown and orange stripe up the middle.
"You could use an ice cream scoop!" My brother giggled.
"Or you could drill into it," my mother said.
"What are you talking about," ever-curious me wanted to know.
"Ways to remove an eyeball," my mother said, matter-of-a-factly.
My own eyes widened. Immediately sickened, I left the room.
But I guess this was fun for my mother and brother and for the rest of my life in that home, you could find them periodically talking of the removal or odd loss of an eyeball.
Who knows where neurotica begins. All I do know is I have never been able to watch people stick their fingers in their eyes or flip their lids back.
I have only heard of the lady who can pop out her eyes.
My brother was 5 when all this began. It was also around this time he learned to lie. I noticed very quickly the changes in his eyes when he was. I had to! I was always getting in trouble for things he did. Like I would have enough nerve to steal the riding lawn mower to drive around!!!! Christ, there has been four generations of non-driving women in my family..And if we go back that far, cars were not invented before that.
And even though my brother got better at the art of lying, with the early exposure I had to it, I have ever since been able to tell when he was. My brother's job now is that of shady character. He gets away with most things. I am still the only one who knows when he is lying. I know when most people are by looking in their eyes.
I gauge people's moods through their eyes. If you pay close attention, you can tell when the person who says they are fine is really sad, lonely, edgy or more than fine. I am good at giving people what they need, if I am in the mood to do so.
I think I have an amazing pair of brown eyes. They are my most favorite thing about me. They are so dark, they sometimes look black. I have learned to mask emotion by watching other people's eyes. I used to do that a lot. I do not do that so much anymore. I appreciate everything I feel now.
Everywhere I go there are people with stories. If you catch my eyes, I am hoping I will be able to catch yours. Sometimes, I take the inspiration from your eyes and use it for my writing. Other times there is something else to be found in your eyes and I want to know for sure. I will talk to you.
I will forever be grossed out by things like eye snot, but even I know, eyes can give you so much more than seeing just colour and awaring you to danger.
Just open them up for a look-see.

Comments

Brent said…
Eyes give me the willies. eh. I, as you know wear glasses, and have thought about getting contacts for ages. I can't even bare thinking about touching my eyes. Even when I was little and would dress up for Halloween, taking the makeup off at night around my eyes would almost make me pee my pants. There also used to be this guy on my elementary school bus who would flip his eyelids up. I'm horrified even thinking about it now. Wow. Me so crazy.
Queenie said…
Oh no you are not Brent! I used to wear eye glasses and could stand to get them again but they look hideous on me. I refuse to use contacts--they are scary-ass things! So, I guess I might go blind....
cbeck said…
I finally had to break down and get glasses. Being a chemist, I can't even consider contacts, though I would never wear them. I just keep telling myself, "self, you look sexy and sophisticated. Ignore those laughing people."
Queenie said…
I'm too sexy for my eye glasses..my eye glasses.....nah..there is not even a nice ring to that. *Whining*-I do not WANT glassesssssss...

Popular posts from this blog

The Village Itself

Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories. It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines. I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart. Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars. It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned. Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town. It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down. Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths. "Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...

What If I Need Them Again Someday

"I am leaving," she said, but he got to them first. "Give me my keys," she smiled sweetly at him. Damn. She still wanted to smile at him. He laughed and smiled right back. "Not a chance." "I don't want to be here," she replied. She meant it. "Give me my keys." "But I already took back everything I gave you. You're shit out of luck." He laughed, right in her face. She had agreed he could have it all back if he wanted, afterall, she knew. And it had not bothered her. Even though she would really miss the Guns n' Roses album. It had not bothered her too much. To give back the things he had gave her. She had not even thought of her car. Or the fact that he owned half of it. So while he laughed, she shook her head and when he was done, she said, "It does not matter. I did not own a car six months a go. I know how to get around this town." She reached down for the coat; near her feet. She put it on. ...

Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more. That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be. I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius.  On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe. "What is this?" I demanded. And loudly. My son shrugged his shoulders. "I like it. It's nice. Took a long time." He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.   And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house. I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary. It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it...