Unless you’re wearing safety goggles.
The title of this post comes from a greeting I get from my partner every time I go into the work studio when he’s using the laser.
It’s a warning, but it’s also become a bit of an endearing joke which is still a warning.
While my mind does have a lot of glitches, luckily it doesn’t seem to have that one which doesn’t hear the word “Don’t” when someone says “Don’t do that” and only hears “Do that”… otherwise I’d look at the laser every time my partner tells me not to and my eyes would be fucked.
My eyes… aren’t as sharp as they used to be, which is a blessing when I look in the mirror as I see myself through gaussian blur and appear ethereal.
“Is it smokey in here or is that just my eyes?” – is something I ask regularly… sometimes it is smokey due to the laser burning and the open window is blowing the smoke inside rather than taking it out… for dinner?
My eyes… used to cause trouble for me with other people or so they used to tell me.
“Don’t look at me that way!” – was an oft repeated instruction, usually in an angry, upset, offended or distressed “they’re the victim here and my eyes are the victimiser” tone.
The other one was – “Why are you looking at me like that?” – sometimes followed by – “I didn’t do what you think I did!”
If I revealed that I wasn’t thinking anything, I wasn’t thinking about them at all, and hadn’t noticed what they’d done… yeah, that’s not what they wanted to hear even though in theory it should have been good news.
Of course the moment someone drew my attention to them and what they were up to which was making them all paranoid and projecting their paranoia into my eyes…
My eyes tend to stare, don’t blink as much as they perhaps should, and do that more when my mind is away on a thought journey – miles away from wherever my body is located and whoever is around me at the time.
Occasionally I’m in my body looking at the person and maybe even thinking of them – “Look at how their nose sits on their face… it’s such a perfect piece of design. What a fascinating structural marvel the nose is… I wonder why every nose is different, what’s the purpose of the variety?”
I have a bit of a thing about noses.
Probably because once mine stopped being a cute little button and became a big honker which didn’t fit my still a child’s face… people kept commenting on it, telling me how large it was, gasping at the size, “You could be so beautiful if it weren’t for that ugly thing!” and making me feel more self-conscious than I really needed to be about a functional piece of face gear which I can’t really see unless I look in a mirror or at a picture of myself or see myself through the eyes of others telling me what they’re seeing and… ew, they can’t unsee that.
The repeated judgement of my nose got to the point where… I wanted to have a nose job. But back in those ancient times, a nose job meant having your nose broken… and why on earth would I deliberately pay someone a lot of money to break my nose!?
And there was no guarantee that such an extreme fix would fix the problem of other people judging my nose and thinking that I needed to hear their judgments… just in case I quite liked the way I looked, can’t have that – “Don’t like the way you look! You don’t want to become vain, do you!”
Making me self-conscious about my nose by criticising it… actually made me more vain rather than less vain, but I guess people don’t bother with checking out how their methods of fixing people actually work or don’t work in the long run.
Eventually my face caught up to my nose and the whole facial system became more balanced. My nose is still prominent, and it always stands out in pictures…
What’s that… oh… you need a visual…
The problem with most cameras, including the one on your mobile phone, is that the regular lens they use does a bit of a fish-eye with the nose… and if you have a prominent nose it becomes a focal point, gets widened and stretched until any selfie is just all nose.
If you smile – the wider the smile, the wider the nose.
I recently had the good-bad idea of using selfies taken on a mobile for a business website profile pic…
My partner looked great in his, as he always does. Yes, I’m blinkered by love even after more than two decades together, but he is very good looking.
I thought I looked okay in mine… “That’ll do” is what I said about the pic… we’re never totally happy anyway, are we, with photos of ourselves because that’s not how we see ourselves in our mind’s eye.
How do I see myself in my mind’s eye? Like my WP profile pic mostly… but how am I seeing that? Shut up with your questions, me!
My problem with the pic, and others I had taken of which that one was sort of the best, was that I kept making a weird expression and couldn’t stop myself from doing that so… “Fuck it, that’ll do!”
My nose looked large in it and my partner decided to tweak my nose in the pic without telling me. So when I saw it… “That’s not my nose!” was what I said. It was a gorgeous nose but it wasn’t mine and this was a profile pic. And then… “Wtf, dude, have you seen what tweaking my nose did to my eyes!!!” – they looked like grey alien cat eyes.
My partner is an expert when it comes to using Photoshop but he’d done the tweak in a hurry and… my face was messed up.
We reached a compromise… he un-fucked-up my eyes and un-tweaked my nose a bit but kept some tweakage because he needed that. And I was “Whatever, it doesn’t matter… most people don’t meet me or see me, anyway.”
No, I don’t usually mention the business/work side of my life on my blog, because… something along the lines of “Don’t mix business with pleasure”… it’s unprofessional… which is a fancy way of saying something else, like “It’s none of your business, you don’t need to know about it.”
What do I do? I do grunt work… in other words I grunt when asked to work.
So it really doesn’t matter what I look like – I look grumpy, fyi.
My main “job” at the moment is to not look at the laser… cool, I can do that!
My eyes are important to me…
I use them for more than just reading, which is one of my favourite activities, and seeing, which is also a favourite activity.
I use them for hearing too… and thinking.
I’m a visual thinker…
I said this recently, I think it was in a reply-comment on a post rather than in a post – if you put a gif in your post, I can’t read the words in that post because of the gif, it’s too distracting.
Flashy flashy flashy… look at me, I’m doing the same thing over and over and it’s so not interesting after the first time I did it!!!
That’s why I use Ad-Block. You can block any flashy flashy flashy distraction and actually hear… think.
I don’t use Ad Block to deprive websites of earnings… I just can’t navigate your website if things are flashing all over the place, so if you block me from accessing your site until I stop using Ad Block… bye bye because I won’t be able to concentrate, I won’t be able to see what I came to the website to see which is usually in writing form, so there’s no point in my being there.
Those flashy flashing images, be it gifs or moving adverts or videos playing without permission are a bit like lasers to me.
Don’t look at the laser!
My eyes… my eyes…
My eyes… have caused problems for me in other ways.
“You have kind eyes” is something I’ve been told by strangers, they’re the reason why some stranger in the street picked me to ask the way or some other question or chose me as a confessional, to offload their problems, their entire life story, while we were stuck in a waiting room, a bus, a plane together – it’s a compliment but also a rather onerous role to be given just because of what they saw in my eyes.
Which reminds me…
Of a great post by Cage Dunn (my glitchy mind has rejigged his name to Caged One):
WordPress is also glitchy at times, and atm it’s not being cooperative when it comes to sharing excerpts, at least the way I do it using the “quote” box feature on Gutenberg (which is a system I adore)… but I’ve figured out a complicated workaround which requires extra grunt work and effort on my part, when I really feel compelled to share, which I do now with CD’s post, and the bit of it which wowed me the most:
“The bathroom window takes up all of one wall. It’s huge. Faces west. The afternoon sun makes the space as bright as an operating room. I like that. No mould.
The other day, I went in to dust and wipe and tidy. The doors to the mirror shone to a smear-free finish. The best time to do it is in the afternoon when the sun highlights all the marks and smudges.
I looked up, and …
My father’s eyes looked back at me.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the direct relationship between the two of us. We don’t look alike in any other way. Different hair, body shape, facial structure, ears, hands, feet.
But the eyes — I have his eyes. And he had his mother’s eyes. I loved her eyes. She died too young. 50.
I stared at her eyes, at his eyes, at my eyes.
The mirror stared back at me with my father’s history. I couldn’t look away. My chest burned with the need to speak to him, to tell him things we didn’t talk about when he was still here.”excerpt from It’s In The Eyes – Cage Dunn: Writer, Author, Tell of Tall Tales
It’s such a magnificent piece of writing, of skill using words to conjure up images, visuals, story…
Thing is though…
My eyes… are the only part of me which are mine and only mine.
They’re nothing like my mother’s eyes – thank goodness because they were beady and harsh. Pretty though but scary for me when they were looking at me… what they saw when they looked at me was not pretty, and her mouth felt I should know the awful truth at all times.
They’re nothing like my father’s eyes – although the eyebrows are his, and they’re brown like his, but the brown is lighter, it has green around it if you look really closely while shining a laser into to them. They’re more hazel… his were brown verging on black.
They’re mine… they’re the one thing I had which was mine and couldn’t be taken away from me… easily… like everything else, including my self.
The mirror for me wasn’t a mirror.
It wasn’t something I looked in to see what I looked like, or what others saw when they looked at me – I learned fairly quickly that others saw what they saw and it wasn’t necessarily what was there in the face system, they tweaked it to suit their vision and version of me.
It wasn’t an object of vanity.
It wasn’t an object of self-criticism – oh, look at that spot, line, wrinkle, the crooked or chipped tooth, the fault, flaws, imperfections which make you ugly or hate yourself because others point these out and then you absorb their pointing out and do it for yourself as they did only worse… what you don’t let others get away with but let yourself get away with when it comes to yourself.
It was the place where someone actually looked me in the eyes and saw me – “I see you.”
What are you thinking? Care to share with someone who is genuinely interested and not faking interest for a variety of reasons.
What are you feeling? Your eyes tell me you’re feeling unseen. Others see everything about you or so they say and think but they don’t actually see you – it’s themselves they’re seeing using you as a mirror and then breaking it when it doesn’t reflect before reflecting…
“Mirrors should think longer before they reflect.“Jean Cocteau
As a child the mirror was my refuge, my kind eyes to ask where am I to, to ask for directions, to use as a confessional – I feel like killing myself is that normal, okay… what do I do?
Sometimes the mirror and my eyes were the only “thing” keeping me… me… alive… whatever…
These days I don’t need my eyes in the mirror as much as I used to… but even now when I catch my eyes in the mirror…
I see you.
Thank you… for seeing me.
How are you? Okay? You can always…
If you’re not.
You always know when I’m not.
I’m not I’m not…
I know. I can see.
No judging of smile. No caring if teeth aren’t white, perfect, or anything… it’s the quality of the smile, what it means and says about what’s within, not the other type of quality of the smile – can my eyes handle yellow? Crooked? Chipped? Not perfect Hollywood fake hiding all sorts of ARGH! (oh, if you’ve never seen the film – Starry Eyes (2014) – maybe it’s better if you never see it but it’s basically an in your face to those who pretended they didn’t know what we all now know when Hollywood was hit by the Time’s Up Me Too movements).
Btw, my partner is one of the few people who when they look at me – really see me.
It’s scary-thrilling how well he see-sees me. Laser eyes…
He’s actually the first person I met who helped me to stop seeing myself through the eyes of others and hating what I saw… because he loved what he saw.
Taught me to re-love what I saw when looking at myself.
So he gets cut a lot of slack when he does something like tweak my nose in a photo, which fucks up my eyes, until it’s no longer a pic of me.
He apologised for doing that – he didn’t need to apologise, I understood why he did that. He was caught up in the design and forgot that… I’m a people not a thing to be perfected by designing eyes perfecting design.
Besides… I’ve tweaked my face in photos in Photoshop, to make me look like not myself… it can be fun, and insightful, sometimes to do that. Get to look like what you don’t look like and then go – Cool, but also not cool…
I don’t wear make-up in RL… can’t be bothered… it’s work… grunt… and it makes me want to rip my face off… itchy… not me… yes, it’s relevant, connected.
My mother wore a lot of make-up, used to say she was – “Putting my face on” – sounded sinister, wtf!?! – “I can’t meet people yet, I haven’t put my face on” – but… what about that face you have which you cover up, why isn’t that considered a face?
My nose… that’s my father’s and his family’s, his culture’s nose. Roman… he was Roman after he moved to Rome from not-Rome. I know… just messing around with words and their meanings which are multiple at times.
My mouth and smile with its slightly crooked teeth (worse for wear due to unconsciously clenching and grinding, mainly during sleep and sometimes during not-sleep, since I was a little one) are actually my mother’s but she always thought and said they were my father’s… she hated her smile for many self-criticism reasons… so she saw it as not perfect, not like my father’s, not like mine. She really blew a fuse when I fainted, hit a chair corner and chipped my front tooth, her words of consolation were – “You’ve ruined your perfect teeth!”
Now is a good place to end this post.