Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Feeling, nice?

So I perceive my reality mostly through feeling and literal tactile sensory. I mean, I'm charismatic, I can voice things that used to find very difficult to explain. This comes from a few years of practice and trying to instill hope in those i care about. I'm certainly visual, when it comes to attraction I had specific visual taste. Cut Girls, soft guys. I like black guys, eastern european or hispanic girls. There are aspects of the visual that are programmed into me, like anyone.
But when it gets right down to it, I memorize everything I feel. The way it feels to kiss one person or the forces at work when my car lost control last week before the memory loss. It's the primary sense to me. I mean, I can't remember my Dad's voice and my vision is tainted by colour blindness and an astigmatism.
I yearn for those moments. Those moments where my hands on her hips or upon his torso. Where my arm is around my friend. When I can take the hand of the person who I have on some level connected with.
The way about fifty people's hair feels. The texture, the length. The way it felt that gave it away the fact it was over the last time I kissed Emma. The feeling of flipping my car over, when I don't remember it all. The stagnant air when I watched my dad die. To be blunt, the thoughts when an ex from way back was on her knees. The pain of a broken heart that I subconsciously wont let go of, even though I'm having new feelings for new people. The way the ground dipped beneath my feet six years ago when I was contemplating the meaning of Jesus when I was thirteen. The sting of three deadly syringe needles entering my neck. The cold gleam of metal against my jaw. Eleshia's head on my shoulder a little over a year ago in New Mexico. A young woman reading my palm in my old church. The feeling of the wind when I spoke to Susan for the first time. The satisfaction of reaching the top of that Plateau in New Mexico and the unique nature of the air. The gentleness of a sharpened knife cutting into my skin. The way the rock felt against my hand as I followed Candice onto the summit of that small mountain.
Everything for me is about contact.
I'm the type of guy who can express my feelings in words, but I don't want to. I'd rather hold hands with the person who is mine for the time. I'd rather hug those who I care about, place my hand on the person who I know is hurting.
I mean, a clean and honest kiss or and slow random dance when no one's looking is more of an I love you than the words, in my opinion.
The emotions, thoughts, dispositions I can feel when I'm touching someone is much more clear and true to reality that what I can see in their body language or hear in their voice and words.
Shaking hands with someone is always a milestone in my mind, it demonstrates a level of trust and respect and I wont forget it anytime soon.
I don't know if all people perceive things this way, but I do. Whether it makes me unique or whether it makes me the same, it definitely makes me human. If it's unique, I suppose my A.D.D. has something to do with it. Seeing as my mind moves so fast I can't focus on anything I see or hear long enough to remember it. But touch and feeling is primal. It's right there with Emotion and inner-feelings. Even my thoughts aren't that clear, as there are billions.
When I dream, the clearest thing I can always remember is that I can feel pain, intense pain, in my dreams. Like stabbed in the leg with a scalpel pain, but worse.
When I dream, it's always really real. I call it hyper-real. It's so real and the scenarios always make sense, unless I'm a little distraught, then my dreams become very metaphorical. Built of memory. Mostly memory of feeling, cause visual they get weird when I'm emotional.
I mean, just a few days ago I dreamed the car accident on a Virginia road, but the road ran into a brick wall and the car was crushed. I flew through the windshield. But instead of hitting the wall, my hands landed on the hips of my latest ex. Mind you this is very unnerving as I never have dreams of this nature and when they are like this I never see people I actually know in them except maybe my Dad or someone very obscure. But no sooner do I kiss the said ex, because in a dream that's what you do, does the five foot wonder burst into a cloud of black smoke that smells like weld and oil and I'm standing on a conveyer belt controlled by the obscure former co-worker Christina. Which really confuses me, cause I don't remember any conveyer belts at Arvin, nor do I see her as effective to the metaphor as say David, my former set up.
But now I've gone off subject.
I mean, I'm also ver visual, too. Like I said, I have that which I am attracted too. Even go for the androgynous appearance. But I only remember fragments of things I've seen. Even now, the memory of the way my Dad's eyes were still blue when he was dying is fading away. I can't remember the house I grew up at up until 9-11. I'm terrible with faces.
Anyway, enough self analyzing. Time to post this thing.

Oh! Also in a side note. Because I haven't really acknowledged it publicly: it's really old news and I found out about it like a few weeks ago right in the middle of This Week in Google, but I just want to say thank God for the lifting of Prop 8 in California. If the most liberal state in the union can't allow same sex marriage then our country doesn't have nay hope. So I'm glad to see the people come to their senses. I almost want to grab a boy while I'm out there and just marry him and get a divorce just because I can, but I would never do that. Marriage is a sacred bond between two loving partners and it's meant to last. It'll be a miracle if I ever fall that much in love. I like bouncing off the walls of reality too much.

Brent Matthew Lillard

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