Eye for an eye gives us a better perspective.

As not riding it around would make me even tardier than usual, I frequently ride my bike around campus. The other day, as I made my way back to my car after a particular vile round of classes, I found myself stuck behind a massive youth volleyball team. I slowed down and sort of idled along behind them, lost to my angry musings.

But, then, a little girl in the back turned to look at me.

She smiled and I smiled back, and then she began tapping the shoulders of her teammates. "Hey," she said. "Get out of the way." And so she ran ahead of me, clearing her cow-like team off the sidewalk and eventually we found ourselves at the head of the entire group. She turned to me and beamed proudly.

"Thank you so much." I said. "You're welcome." She said. "Team captain, right?" I asked. Her smile dropped slightly. "No." "Ah, well." I said. "Sounds like your coach made a big mistake." I looked up at the woman I presumed to be her coach and raised my eyebrows. The girl smiled widely and I continued on my way.

You know, it's not often, but every once in a while I'm reminded that people aren't so bad. Even if it is a precious minority, it's enough, I think, to balance out the rest of them.

Comments

Carolynn said…

That is adorable.

July 15, 2010 at 12:13 AM

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely. Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung. There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....

Pseudo-science (like psych).

I consider myself a man of science. I try to approach problems and deal with them logically, using observations previously recorded to handle new problems. So of course my interest was piqued when someone I knew posited that men are needier and more complicated than women. An interesting theory. But to properly examine it, one must understand the concept of sexual selection and its two aspects: male competition and female choice. Which brings us to point one: men are needier [in relationships] than women. This is true. In a natural/primal setting, the males are generally love-'em-leave-'em kinds of guys. Their main objective is to reproduce as much as they can. Humans, in their infinite wisdom, have decreased the emphasis on this to the point where it has become a footnote in male purpose. Civilization dictates that, instead of finding a partner for the sole purpose of reproduction, males find females for life companionship. With the effective removal of their natur...

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...

everything is fine

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