Eye Don't Know

Ignore the pun if you can't smile at it. That is my standing advice to all those with much better senses of humor than me. To fill you in on the past scattered hours, I've been poring over the most random Hebrew flash cards. It's not helping terribly with my class but now I can tell you how to say "watermelon" and "lake" in Hebrew. Ask me about it sometime. I promise, it's thrilling.

I've been noticing more and more that the kids on campus by and large prefer to avoid eye contact. I'm not sure why this is. Eyes meeting sometimes leads to a friendly smile. I thought Texans were supposed to be naturally friendly. Maybe that's only east Texans? All the east Texans I know are friendly. But is it pride that makes us avoid locking eyes? I'm much too important to actually meet the gaze of a lesser being. Therefore, I will refuse to acknowledge my fellow travelers. Or perhaps it's almost like a sign of submission? As if when you meet their eyes, you have somehow truckled to someone else's desire (the desire to make eye contact). That sounds silly, doesn't it? It could be the fear of appearing weak. If you go around looking into everyone's eyes to get a returning look, you might appear needy. You need eye contact so you can feel you've been recognized and acknowledged by someone. That probably sounds equally silly. But we're a species of mimes and clowns, imitating the pitiful strut of the peacock next to us. I've noticed that those who don't make eye contact usually either look at the ground, look away or stare directly ahead. It's a little maddening if you spend to much time thinking about it. I think the reason I'll settle on is conceit. Not sure if I covered that one, but nevertheless (or nonetheless?) it is my choice. The tendency to not make eye contact (not to be too rash with generalizations) seems to be a symptom of being self-absorbed. You may pawn it off as being shy. But from my own experience, when I take the time to pick at it, I am swimming in my own interests and I really don't want to look too far beyond my own nose. I simply care too much about looking nonchalant. It's hopelessly stupid.

P.S- I have a friend who once told me how she can't wait to get to heaven. At times it would actually move her to tears. Now, like any good Christian, I know that heaven is where my real home is. But I've never cried because I wanted to be there so much. I've perhaps cried because I didn't want to be here anymore, on earth. But how do I become homesick for a place I've never been? I suppose I just need to study the postcard sent from the resident, yes?

Enjoy the scraps of your Tuesday. A full helping of Wednesday will be right up.