Don’t Stare


dont-stare-at-me-5Socializing is not my thing, in fact, I stay clear of large gatherings for the most part. But what I do love about people is observing them. Long before 9/11 happened, I would jump at the chance to the go the airport with my dad when he would go to pick up my aunt. It was a chance to see planes arriving and taking off, and I loved to see people waiting for their loved ones, those who were alone, and watching the bustle of airport workers. I loved the energy that could be felt and for me it was a happening place.

As a little girl, my Mom called it staring.

Honestly, I couldn’t help myself because going past the physical dimension, I had this natural interest in other people, how they dressed, and how many wrinkles on their face, neck and arms. The tone of their voice, their laugh, how they held themselves, acne scars etc. The list never ends. There’s a fine line between staring and observing, and I guess I was doing more staring than observing. I am almost addicted to observing others, but I don’t want them to think that I am staring. So I try to stay quiet and watch the interactions between two people or a group of people. I know from my own experience that little people are just naturally interested. I make a point not to take it personally if I find little people staring at me. Smiling sometimes disarms them, but they just usually stare back. No smiles.

I love to observe people

But with the observing also came a natural ability to pick up on their emotions and sometimes their thoughts. I like to call myself a sponge because I soaked up everything without trying. Sitting on the bus was (and is) one of my favourite place(s) to watch others around me. But it also has its perks because it come in handy as a writer, and fiction writer in training! People really do come in all shapes and sizes.

I live behind a former car dealership lot, and two years ago, they the sold the property to a Home/Condo building company, and it has been rented it out to another car dealership franchise that sells BMW’s. It is a slick operation. The employees who work in the service reception, and all of these employees (all men) wear an all black uniform with a red tie. They even have a greeter of sorts, who spends most of his time outside in the customer parking lot. I watch from my balcony window trying to figure out everything that’s going on. And yes, I know I’ll never figure it out, but I like to compare it to the first dealership which sold Honda’s. There are no comparisons.

I sit in the chair closest to the balcony window and I watch people.

A couple of weeks, I saw this women who was wearing shorts and well I can’t remember what her top looked like though I know she was wearing one. Tattoos covered both entire length of her legs, and I was like hmm. My next natural reflex was I wished I could see up close what kind of tattoos she had on her legs. Personally, I would never go for a tattoo, I like my clear skin, and what goes up must come down. What intrigues me and I have yet to have the opportunity to ask someone, is why they got the particular one they have. Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask her because I was inside and she was outside, but I think she had tattoos on her arms as well.

I have this little book in which I write down my observations in, and they can serve as future ideas for writing or a good way to simply learn to observe. What colour their hair is, is it short, do they wear too much make-up, or can I see their blue eye shadow? Do they have five piercings on their nose? This all goes into their perceived personality from afar.

I am still chiding myself because I often teetered on the edge between staring and observing, I think the silent presentation that people give out is far more interesting than when they start talking. But on the other hand I do love to listen because it’s amazing what a complete stranger will tell you things that has you thinking, “This is kinda personal bud.,”

God observes us too

But maybe it’s not in the way you or I would do it.

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.

    You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

    You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

    Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.


He’s been observing us too, but not quite in the way you or I would do it. He has delved into our inner selves, and he is aware of all that we don’t think he would be. By observing us, we have given him greater insights into the kind of person we are. I am still at this point amazed at how well He knows me.pexels-photo-38130


One thought on “Don’t Stare

  1. Two things popped to mind when I read your title. One was my mother, saying over and over and over, through years of my life, “Don’t stare!” The other was one of my favorite authors, Flannery O’Connor, who wrote, “The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.”

    If those aren’t two ends of some kind of continuum! I’m in favor of staring, myself — but politely, when possible.

    Liked by 1 person

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