Focus point

A thought just occured to me. When I speak with people I tend to look at their lips rather than the eyes. I've never even assumed that it is the usual/normal thing to do to look at the eyes, until some years ago. But I still haven't figured out why people look at the eyes in particular. And which eye do you even look at? You would either look at the right or the left eye. If you try to look at both eyes, your own eyes would be constantly moving and throw the other person completely off whatever they were trying to say.

Anyway. Getting back to the thought that just came to me - I've just realised why I look at the lips rather than the eyes, which I've been doing for as long as I can remember (although this may make me sound like a person with a bad memory, it's more likely to be that I don't remember this aspect beyond a time because it was only then that I had newly discovered a point to focus on the face). A friend of mine used to repeat silently whatever was being said by the person she was speaking to. She would be silently and somewhat noticeably be mouthing what you say as you were speaking. It was after I noticed this that I started to looking at lips while talking to her, probably to check if she was mouthing every single word I was saying. And then I started looking at people's lips as they spoke, and before I knew it, it had become a habit to focus of the lips of people when I am looking at their face.

It was after I realised that people might find it uncomfortable that someone is looking at a part of their face that everyone doesn't look at, that I stopped looking at their lips and started looking at their eyes. But I still have trouble focusing on which eye to look at. Maybe I should look at the nose....


Trials of life continue as I write...

まってる

I am waiting for my pens...

Words that move...

"I've still got sand in my shoes..."

... and socks, and my car. And while it may be a while before clean it out, it was all very worth it. 4 girls, one car, virtually unplanned trip down the coastal area southward bound. With both of the navigators having lost satelite signals and no reception area for mobiles, every prospect of getting lost was in sight somewhere in the vicinity of the Royal National Park. Well, if one claims to have "Lose directions" in the itinerary, well then, nothing has gone wrong, has there?

Truth be told, until we reached Sea Cliff Bridge we had virtually no idea where we were. We first pulled into a random beach along the way (quite possibly Austinmer beach) without really knowing what road we were on. After a little splash here and there and a bit of climbing up some rocks we were back on the road. As to how we ended up on Sea Cliff Bridge after that, I've got no idea. But we got there, got past it without finding suitable parking spot, ended up on some street where we spotted a sign "Art Gallery", and U insisted we go it. It turned out to be a gallery in a home owned by a nice couple - the wife being the painter and the husband being a jewellery maker. After looking at some very nice jewellary (with very nice prices) we turned back to Sea Cliff Bridge, parked and the four of us sat rebelliously on the railings of the footpath (of course instigated by myself). As we watched the nigh indistinguishable line in the horizon between the sky and the ocean, we talked over the guesome details of what would happen if someone (S) were to fall over the side and hit the rocks (this discussion being instigated by U. Thank you, U).

After praying in a little park near by, we hit the road again, heading towards Garie Beach in the Royal National Park. As we wove [read: sped] through the many twists and turns of "The Sqeezeway" (there's a reason they named it so) I decided that next time I have to bring U on such a trip, I will gag and blindfold her before she is allowed in my car. As lovely as the views were, it started raining soon after we got there. As fun as it may have been for the rest of of them under one umbrella in a windy beach, I had more fun things in my mind - going up some small hill in a corner of the beach that looked like it could have been blocked off due to danger. But did I care? - Not on bit! Up I went a few meters, down I came after deciding that it really was a bit dangerious. But only for the slippery mud from the rain. As much as I love to see the ocean on a rainy, windy day, I would like to make another trip there on a sunnier day and climb that hill ... and every mountain....

Back home through some really nice roads, a pot of soup at U's uncle's house (uncle being at work and no family), a poor and interrupted attempt at watching "The Imaginerium of Dr --------" (can't remember the name), and we were home at last.

All in all, I'd say that was a good day.

• 80% in a tajweed reading exam is not a particularly high achievement. Especially when you are reading from a memorised surah. Although, I may not have made a mistake in a word that I've been marked down in. Still, I love my tajweed teacher so much, I couldn't possibly argue with her.
• So, exams being over with (and we will not dwell on how they went) it is now time for some self evaluation (that's hint enough). I found something precious a little while ago, and I've lost it again a few days ago. And now I'M feeling very much lost.
• I've been dissing the whole notion of one not being able to function in the morning until one has their coffee or tea. Now it seems that I've fallen in the same trap. I'm sitting in my room with the heater in front me and a mug of green tea. The mere smell of it is enough to energize me, but I still prefer to taste it.
• I am continuing to mourne the fact that Dawud Wharnsby Ali has taken up the guitar again. But I supposed it has helped him in expanding his personal horizons and realizing what more he can do with his talents. (But it still begs the question - how much is actually necessary? ... But we won't debate right now). Here is what I'm talking about - Pages of Hope. The song is quite catchy and I won't pretend otherwise in spite of my disposition.
• "...We've digitized the revelation; Does our rehearsed recitation go any deeper than our throats?..."