The Watcher

I am what some people may call a watcher. This is my story.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not crazy. I don’t watch an individual because I am obsessed with them. I simply do it because of the pleasure I get from watching them interact with other people.

I watch a girl walk by. We are in the library on a moderate sized college campus. She converses with her friends. I eavesdrop. I become enveloped in her stories. I laugh at her jokes. I listen with such intensity. I can imagine everything she says. She leaves. That’s all right. More will come.

A group of twenty-something males and females settle in the student union. They talk, about what, I’m not sure. This time I choose not to listen to what they have to say, but instead, I watch their actions. I am fascinated. These are simple actions that we perform everyday, yet when I watch them, I see something most people don’t. I take the time to notice. A girl’s hand brushed along a guy’s arm. The eye contact, or lack there of, between two people. These things reveal everything about a person.

I don’t know why I watch. I don’t particularly like people. I am not what some people would call a people-person. Yet, I am fascinated with their interactions. I don’t like interacting with people. I just like to watch.

I am at the library again. This is the best place to watch people. I’m not inside the library, but in the lobby area where friends, group members, and faculty sit and converse with each other while drinking their Churchill’s Coffee. The great thing about this particular place is that if you get bored with the inhabitants of the lobby, you can look out the great windows in front of you and watch the hustle and bustle of people hurrying to class, work, or wherever their paths may take them. I often choose to do my watching of people on the outside from inside. You can get the sense of what people are thinking by watching them without hearing them. Nothing needs to be said. I think this is what Bazam would equate to his Holy Moment. While Bazam likens his moment to the difference between reality and reality being recreated, such as in film, I find that reality of what is said versus reality of what is thought is a better Holy Moment.

The Holy Moment

I watch through the panes of glass. I watch people interact, or the ever-increasing lack of interaction. People walk past each other, avoiding eye contact. It is sad. People walk with their music blaring or yelling into their cell phones. I am guilty of this, just as they are. But when you watch it happening, it grabs a hold of you. You try to distance yourself from what you consider the undesirables. People you don’t want to deal with. We crave to be connected, yet we disconnect ourselves. The Holy Moment is when you realize this. You can watch any conversation from a distance and replace what they are talking about with any dialogue. It all means the same. But there is still body language. That is what makes the conversation worth having. That is when their soul is shown to the world. You can see what they are trying to hide. The emotions are spread out before you like a palette. What are they saying? More times than not they are longing for contact. But they are afraid. Why?

This is why I watch.