Nobody Knows

Hey, nobody reads this blog anyhow, so I'm going to just forget about what I thought anyone thinks. I did originally make this page so that people could catch up on what's going on with me, but it doesn't really matter. Let's face it: nobody really cares what's going on with me. So I'm going to make this blog a fun thing for ME to read. Yeah.

There aren't too many things I like very much about my body right now. But I, most of the time, like my eyes. I didn't always, but I'm kind of getting narrowed down for likeable areas. They are brown. They are tiger eye (the semi-precious stone) color in the light. In high school, I liked to wear dark colors to bring out their darkness and to contrast my pale skin. I called my eyes "cow brown" or "poop brown," but now I realize that they shouldn't be compared to such yucky things. They see nearly clearly, and the whites stay white most of the time.

If I didn't have eyes, I couldn't see my children smile. That's something I didn't appreciate in high school, but it makes me grateful now. I can see the beautiful colors of spring, a welcome sight after the gloom of winter. I can see music on a page. I can see words in books and in letters. I can see the emerging writing scrawls on paper and pictures my children draw.

Eyes are windows to the soul, they say. One can read a person's intentions by gazing into those eyes. The best eyes to see are those of innocent children. Sometimes it's heartbreaking to see innocence and realize that someday it will change and the children will have to learn hard truths. When one holds onto youth for too long, eventually one's heart breaks and cold reality sets in. But seeing that innocence in young eyes does bring back goodness.

On our trip to Mexico last year, we came upon a truckful of Mexican army men in downtown traffic. As I looked into one of the men's eyes, I saw something I've never seen before. I smiled at him, and his gaze deepened. I realized something: a young man, no older than 20, sat ten feet from me and my family with a rifle in his hands and murder in his eyes. It was a very frightening realization to me. In contrast to this man, I deal daily with five young children who have never had any thoughts of that sort in their minds, and I'm sure that army man began life the same way. To go from one point of the spectrum to the other in only a few short years seems impossible, but there it was.

As usual, I'm rambly, but it all comes down to eyes. They're my favorite thing about myself, and they are the first thing I notice about people because they are so telling. Since this is my first real blog here, I'd like to welcome myself to this blog and thank myself for putting such relevant input onto this page. Also, I'd like to shake my hand and tell myself to sit down and shut up.