The Eyes Have It

Greetings, WYMOP readers!

For the past year or more, Facebook has been drowning in political posts, and in the past week they’ve only picked up speed, like a toddler running downhill after a ball who’s just realized things are about to end badly. Usually I’m apolitical: I have opinions, but don’t want to get involved in the “discussion,” since it’s more than likely to degenerate into name calling—though, on Facebook sometimes it starts out with name calling, which does save some time. I’ve been posting less and less of my own thoughts (mostly about the people I meet at work), and simply reading the argum—I mean, “discussions” on friends’ walls and getting more and more depressed.

Then I saw it: a post on a friend’s wall, starting out with “Why not take a break from negativity and learn about each other?” It was followed by a bunch of simple questions, like “Who are you named after?” and “Last time you cried?”

Well, this looks cool, I thought. And fun. He’s right—this might be just the little Facebook thing to get my mind off the negativity. So I copied it into my own status and started replacing his answers with my own.

“Named after? My father, and his father before him. Last time I cried?” That one took a little thought. “A couple of months ago, I think.” Pop or water? Favorite lunch meat? Do you still have your tonsils? The questions went on and on, some of them fun, some of them plain, but even answering the plain ones was kind of fun. Then I got to question #20: “Eye color?”

“Blue,” I said. Then: “No, green.” Then: “Uh . . .”

Look, it’s not like I can actually see my eyes, and there aren’t any mirrors near my computer desk. Hell, there aren’t any mirrors in my room, no real reflective surfaces at all, unless you want to count the windows once it gets dark. I got up and headed into the bathroom, determined to be as truthful as possible with this little Q & A, just for the fun of it. I flipped on the vanity lights and leaned in toward the mirror.

Well, that didn’t help, I thought. The lights are right above my head. All I’ve done is throw my eye sockets into shadow, and I can’t quite make out the eyes in there.

I flipped the second lightswitch. With a whir and hum the vent fan kicked on, and the light above the shower flickered to life. There, I said to myself. That’ll be behind me, and I should be able to—

Nope. With the lights above and behind me, my eyes were cast into even deeper shadow. I leaned closer. I leaned away. I turned slightly from side to side.

No dice.

I sighed.

I went into the bedroom and scooped something from the bookshelf by my bed, then returned to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, leaning close again.

I sighed.

I sighed a third time as I sat at my desk, typing “Blue-green” into the fun little getting-to-know-you quiz. I ran through the rest of the questions without incident, feeling a little depressed. I posted the thing, stared for a moment at the slightly larger-than-usual text on my computer screen, then set aside the reading glasses I’d been forced to don for the first time out of necessity, rather than for comfort, merely to see the color of my own eyes. I caught myself trying to sigh a fourth time, then scrolled on through Facebook. Maybe I’d find an amusing political post that would cheer me up.

Talk to you later!