Pick Your Eye Placement
The human eyes, being the windows to our soul, are perhaps our most powerful way of passing along our inner thoughts and unfortunately, our internal prejudices.
Bluntly, eye contact is powerfully overwhelming. Sometimes it’s just not needed. Often it can be intrusive. Matter of fact, animals in the jungle do not make eye contact with each other unless they’re ready to square off and fight.
Therefore, deciding what to do with your eyes in any particular situation grants you the peace of mind of knowing that you’re not passing along false information to other people because they misinterpret your gaze.
This is the power of the cell phone. When you’re going into an environment where you do not know anyone, you’re not aware of how things will turn out, or striking up conversations with the people next to you may be perceived as wacky, look down at your phone. Pen a note. Peruse a book.
If you want to convey that you’re deep in thought, stare straight ahead.
If your selection is to scan the room as if you’re keeping yourself open to possible introduction, then turn your head from right to left and go back and forth like you’re slowly mowing a lawn.
Yet, when you’re in a new situation, avoid eye contact. Since nobody knows you, it will generally be considered to be criticism.
As De Niro once said, “Are you lookin’ at me? Are you lookin’ at me?”
Save your eyeballs for better use—intimacy.
Where you place your eyes determines what you are communicating to the surrounding atmosphere.
Just keep in mind—until your presence is welcome, your eyes can be viewed as being too aggressive.
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G-Poppers … July 20th, 2018
G-Pop was nine years old when Bobby moved into the village and started attending the little elementary school.
At first the parents thought he might be a Negro, since he had skin a couple of shades darker, and curly hair. But on careful inspection and tracking down some details, it was confirmed that he was Italian. This allowed him to be suitable for playtime and interaction.
But Bobby was different.
He wasn’t like all the scared children from our burg who were frightened to death to displease the grownups who held the key to play-time and candy. Bobby didn’t care.
When the teacher came into the room, the rest of the students fell silent–like attending a funeral. But Bobby just kept chattering, glancing up at the teacher and smiling back at all the other terrified third-graders.
He was the same way during recess. He played hard, rough and mean. But at the same time, he was sweet-talking to the girls, so they liked him. In no time at all, he developed a reputation among the teachers, staff and some of the parents of being a brat.
Yes. Bobby the Brat.
What concerned them most of all was that there seemed to be a breakdown of discipline across the board–because other students began to feel the liberty to be curt, selfish and overly aggressive.
There was so much pressure on Bobby that when the time to begin fourth grade rolled around, he was gone. His parents left town.
Bobby the Brat had departed, so things went back to being orderly. Even though we all denounce the blandness of being orderly, disorderly comes with a nastiness which spews out poison which has been deposited in our “mad hole.”
Yes. All God’s children got a mad hole.
It’s a space deep inside where we stuff all of our frustration, misgiving and prejudice, thinking it’s a garbage can–but really, it’s just a container where our bigotries decay.
And then one day, we reach a point of rage when this poison is vomited out of our mouths.
It’s a mad hole.
It’s never cleaned out–ignored.
People try to freshen it–try to put a lid on it, so to speak, but as long as it exists, it will eventually erupt.
G-Pop wants his children to know that the truth is, you can’t get provoked unless you’re already pissed.
Nobody pissed you off. They just provoked you until you finally spilled all the putrid contents of your mad hole.
Often all it takes is for Bobby the Brat to come along and tease us with the notion that we aren’t crazy and we should speak out our stupidities loud and clear, for everyone to hear.
So we do.
Civility dies, kindness is mocked, being nice is deemed weak and the only distinction we have seems to be in the horror of our mad hole.
Mad hole
In my soul
Take it in
Make it sin
First the hate
Of your fate
Rots your brain
With things insane
It’s begun
Load your gun
Me against you
Us against them
Don’t wonder if it’s true
Repeat it again
Mad hole
Leaves a space
For me to despise
The human race
The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this inspirational opportunity
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Tags: aggressive, brat, discipline, G-Poppers, garbage can, gun, hate, human race, insane, Italian, mad hole, Negro, orderly, pissed off, poison, putrid, recess, sin, soul, teachers, third graders, vomit