Touching is Feeling
October 06, 2004
I’ve got no site to blog on for the moment (shameless plug: www.handsomemonkey.com) and since some of you are in need of some reading material, I thought I’d do a guest update here.
I’ve realized how important it is to have physical human contact. I didn’t have it for most of my life. Raised by asian parents, I was taught to be objective rather than base my actions on emotions. Emotions were for white devils. That’s why they had movies like Dirty Dancing and Kramer Vs. Kramer. We Chinese dealt with problems using cold-blooded violence, a la Enter the Dragon, and sometimes a sprinkling of humour (think Drunken Master here.)
Alas, as my parents learned, you can’t raise your children in Canada and expect them to hold on to old world ideals and values. For 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, your kid attended a white ghost school. You don’t really expect them to come home without a tinge of rebelliousness, did you? You didn’t really expect them to come home and salute you and say, “Mother, father, today I was taught to do things the white devil way, but do not worry as I will never stray from filial piety.”
Unfortunately, it’s hard to meld the old and new world values. And so, for many years, I did what most normal kids would do. I mixed them up. I approached things emotionally when I should have approached them objectively, and vice versa. It wasn’t until I was 16 or so when I realized how meaningful it was to touch someone you love. How contact, even through a few layers of cloth and fleece, could reassure yourself and those that you touch. It’s a mutual thing. Prior to that, I don’t remember ever giving my mom or dad a hug. I never shook hands with friends, or tussled with them for fun.
When I got into a long term relationship, that’s when the floodgates to physical contact opened. I’m talking about touching in purely non-sexual terms here, folks. A simple holding of hands, or a big hug, or even a tickle here and there can communicate so much. And as most relationships do, mine ended, and with that the touching ended. It was strange to go back into isolation. I might as well have been in prison, cut off from the outside world except through bulletproof glass and steel bars: Seeing, but not feeling.
I’ve come to realize that I miss it. Even worse, I’ve lost my “touch”, so to say. Touching someone is once again strange to me, kind of like dancing with that shy girl in PE 8 with the cold clammy hands. Except I’m the girl with cold clammy hands. It’s sad. It’s funny, most people miss the intimacy of relationships, the passion and/or romance, or the moments shared with a significant other. I miss the touch. Of having a warm body pressed against me, a light kiss, a playful slap on the arm.
You touch, in order to feel. I’ve come to realize that right now, I’m feeling nothing.
Is there anyone out there?
Where have all the updates gone?
I wish I had more time or something to write about. Just the usual for me. I’m still testing the limits of my management skills. I’m balancing about 20 things on my to-do list with ample opportunity for praise, feedback, reprimanding, and plain ol’ chewing the fat with people.
