SNAPSHOTS:
Imagine a campfire in the desert. Next to it, a cowboy is
lying on his back with his bedroll folded beneath his head. His hat sits on his
chest, which is rising and falling tiredly. He's looking up at stars with grey
eyes. Across from him is another cowboy. He's sitting upright, his back braced
against a scrawny tree, his own hat hooked on an up-drawn knee, his eyes on the
fire.
Neither of them is talking or feeling the desire to do so.
They're just sitting, just being, just living.
I cannot fathom this situation. The idea of sitting in the
presence of someone who isn't family, of sitting there for a prolonged period,
with no escape available? Calling that a nightmare might be too strong a word,
but a cage would be closer. It'd be a cage.
Eye Contact:
If I had to be one of these cowboys, I'd be the one sitting
up, because you can't make eye contact if you're lying down. Eye contact is
polite and if avoided, will be seen as rude. If my friend was facing me,
however, then I'd have to time that very eye contact and make sure it didn't go
on too long for fear of awkwardness.
Hands:
Every time I shift position on the hard ground, I'm aware of
my hands. Do I brace them on my knee, beneath my hat? Do I fold them behind my
head and take a break from eye contact to stare at the stars? Do I drag my
fingers through the dirt? Do I gather tinder and toss it at the fire? My hands
would need to be placed somewhere, a decision that would need to be made and
remade each and every time I shifted position.
Talk:
To be in the presence of another person automatically
requires the presence of conversational pressure. Questions MUST be asked and
answers listened to. Stories must be told and eventually brought back around to
a question, so as to provide a segue into the next topic.
Silences:
Silences, like eye contact, must be measured. If they go on
too long, they turn awkward. Some of them are natural, pauses as topics shift,
but it all depends on the participants. If the other person didn't put in the
same amount of effort, conversation would die. More silences would happen and
they'd be longer. The pressure on me mounts as I realize that it is totally my
responsibility to facilitate the interaction. My body gets tense with the
effort of that job and more than that, by there being no end to it in sight.
Emotions:
Everybody fakes emotions in conversations. If somebody says
a joke that doesn't strike you as all that funny, you still laugh to be polite.
If somebody says something sad, such as their aunt is sick, you say you're
sorry even though you don't know their aunt. If somebody is angry over the way
they're being treated, you say that you understand their frustration. I take
this a step further. I past a smile on my face at all times unless a topic
swings towards darker subjects, as this makes me look friendlier. I feign
others opinions on movies and books, for this avoids conflict. In my book, a
perfect conversation is one that comes and goes without a silence, difference
of opinion or misunderstanding. A downside to this is that not only is the grin
now involuntary, but my views have become fake. I go into every conversation
wearing a mask over my face, my voice and my body.
Hugs:
Physical contact can be comforting and thrilling, depending
on the circumstances and relationships involved. A hug from family or a lover
is not awkward and does not factor into the following. Any touching outside of
this is jarring to me. Hugs are measured in length and are avoided if rudeness
won't result from doing so. Being brushed up against, a hand being placed on a
shoulder, a brushing of fingers to pass over food at a diner, all of these are
startling. I don't invite them and if they occur, I try to breeze past them as
quickly and smoothly as possible.
To be the cowboy that sits at that fire, to lounge there
without pressure on my body, my face or my emotions seems impossible. The only
way that I could be in that situation and not have every muscle in my body
taught as a bow string would be if I was staring at the stars alone, devoid of
company. Stars and fires are meant to be shared, but until silences can be too,
I'll have to stay a lone cowboy.
