A new perspective

Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
Say, who are the people in your neighborhood?

Well, they’re the people that you meet
When you’re walking down the street
They’re the people that you meet each day

–People In Your Neighborhood, Sesame Street

I want to write about the people I encounter over and over again in my life. The UPS guy, the bartender, the woman who makes the awesome salad for me at the deli.  I want to follow them around for a day and see what it is like to live their life. I want to listen to the way they talk to the random people they meet.

Isn’t it sad that we only get to live our own life? We only get to see the world through a single pair of eyes.

Well, except the recipients of an eye transplant. It isn’t possible yet – too many connections… but eventually… Would they see the world differently than they did before?

What if, when you got bored or depressed, the solution was eye replacement instead of pills? But that might mean you started seeing things about your loved ones or friends that you’d never noticed before. Like the way he chews his food. Or the way her face looks all squished up when she laughs.

I saw a Ted Talk once with a woman who wore prosthetic legs from the knee down.  She designed custom legs for herself and could be any height she wanted. ( I wonder what her driver’s license says: DOB: 1/1/1981, Eyes: brown, Height: varies.)

We can all add a few inches to our height with the heals of our shoes, but what if you wanted to be shorter?  Say you were a thief or a pickpocket where being 5 foot nothing would be an advantage.  Just wear the short legs while you are on the job.

I like my height, but I can imagine people who don’t.  The 6’6″ girl or the 5’1″ guy.  I know I am projecting, but I always imagine that the people who have the crazy body piercings, like the string of ball bearings implanted along the top of their head, or the metallic horns in the forehead, must be dealing with some fairly serious body issues. The self-hatred must run deeper than just the skin to cover your face with disfiguring bits of metal or to hide behind a layer of permanent ink.

But what do I know? If I could follow them around, if I could live their life for a day, see the world from their perspective, maybe it would make perfect sense. Maybe I’m missing out on something with my limited view.

I certainly hope so. I searched for some pictures of people with extreme piercings – but I can not bring myself to add any of them here. They made me feel like crying – and not for the imagined physical pain. I’m trying really hard to not make assumptions, but all I can think is that they didn’t get enough hugs as children.

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Alright, I’m going to end this post in the opposite direction and invite you to see the world from my perspective.  Lately I’m all about drawing trees with ‘digital finger paint.’ So here is my latest attempt:

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