This morning a guy and a younger one, perhaps his son stopped by the house. As they rang the door bell, I put 'Moby Dick' down, and rushed to the door.
The guys were inquiring about a Cadillac parked on main street. A tree is to be cut down this morning and they were wording if the car belonged to us. It was not one of our cars, for main street parking only comes with an two-hour parking limit.
As much as eye contact is important in conversing with someone; when I look into men's eyes I feel weak. It's a weakness as if I were in love, and I'm not all sure where it comes from. He was just a stranger. It's quite an uncomfortable feeling that is... eye contact, or the thought of love. I feel like they know... these men I'm forced to have eye contact with on a social basis.
I feel like everything is sprawled out open when I make eye contact with men, and then it leaves me feeling ashamed.
Am I afraid of the male gender? Could one show me a special kind of love I long to cherish and hold on to? It seems right, or ideal but wrong... all at the same time.
Could eye contact be seen as a simple form of intimacy?
We do it every day...
but something forced is never right, or justified, especially on terms dealing with intimacy.
I know...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Someday they will come - the right words; the words...
It is the evening of Tuesday January 4th, 2011. I am writing under the influence of coffee, the urge and needing to.
My last piece I wrote (unpublished via net) pertained to my father's death. There's so much that comes to my mind on the subject... but I'm just not ready to write about every detail that comes to mind.
With father's death just before Christmas, the anticipation of celebrating the holiday and the new year was definitely something to look forward too. The holidays went by fast, and now I feel I call this period "the long haul". It is very quiet in the home, and without Dad's presence around... his absence is kicking in. I am struggling with going out in public and finding myself with my head low. I feel I could break into tears just walking down the street of our village; walking his dog.
I find myself alone, staring where his study/desk is... asking in dead silence, "Dad, where are you?" and tear up.
_________________________________________________________________
There's so much I want to say about life and current happenings with my family which is consisting of mother, and my older sister, Brittany.
Today though, I found myself in conversation with Victor, from Tobati, Paraguay. It brings me much happiness to talk to people from my birth country. In a way that seems odd to describe other than saying the way that it is... it brings me hope. We talked about the languages, culture, soccer, and he complimented me on my knowledge of the country... in which I feel is very little, but of all countries... publications on Paraguay are a rare find. I have two books I peep into periodically.
I need to wrap up, walk Black Jack, and call it a night!
My last piece I wrote (unpublished via net) pertained to my father's death. There's so much that comes to my mind on the subject... but I'm just not ready to write about every detail that comes to mind.
With father's death just before Christmas, the anticipation of celebrating the holiday and the new year was definitely something to look forward too. The holidays went by fast, and now I feel I call this period "the long haul". It is very quiet in the home, and without Dad's presence around... his absence is kicking in. I am struggling with going out in public and finding myself with my head low. I feel I could break into tears just walking down the street of our village; walking his dog.
I find myself alone, staring where his study/desk is... asking in dead silence, "Dad, where are you?" and tear up.
_________________________________________________________________
There's so much I want to say about life and current happenings with my family which is consisting of mother, and my older sister, Brittany.
Today though, I found myself in conversation with Victor, from Tobati, Paraguay. It brings me much happiness to talk to people from my birth country. In a way that seems odd to describe other than saying the way that it is... it brings me hope. We talked about the languages, culture, soccer, and he complimented me on my knowledge of the country... in which I feel is very little, but of all countries... publications on Paraguay are a rare find. I have two books I peep into periodically.
I need to wrap up, walk Black Jack, and call it a night!
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