Last night, I was walking adjacent to the Boston Commons to get onto the T to go home after class. I looked over, and there was a group of four guys. They were standing pretty close to each other in a circle. There was a cold wind, and I think their positioning was an attempt to block it out as they talked.
For a second, I thought they looked like a prayer circle.
I should've . . . walked over to them and started to pray with them. "Oh, Gracious Father, please protect these young men from sin. Help them to stop touching themselves as they think about their mothers in perverse ways. Please, help them to stop worrying about occupying Wall Street so that they may one day occupy Heaven. Please, Father, guide these poor souls. Amen." Afterwards, I would have smiled at each of them, patted one of them on the shoulder, and walked away.
26 January 2012
24 January 2012
(#25) The "Clash for Coins" I Should've
The other day, I was riding on the T when a man began moving around the train and asking for change. He was very, very nice about it, unlike certain homeless individuals.
As he was asking for change, he kept telling us about himself. "I am homeless. I live in the Cambridge Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I have no money for food or shelter. If anyone could, please, please, spare any change, I would greatly appreciate it. God bless you. Thank you." And then he would repeat himself. He did this several times.
During one reiteration, I got an idea.
I should've . . . started moving around the train and competing for change, coming up with an even more dramatic story and see which one of us inspired the most sympathy and got the most change. "State legislation has been passed so that I can never live in a house again. I live in the sewers underneath Cambridge, Massachusetts, attempting to stay warm by covering myself in the waste that oozes through those dark, stinking passageways. Rats have eaten off all of my toes. I have arthritis, asthma, and erectile dysfunction. If you could, please, please, spare any change, I would greatly appreciate it. God bless you. Thank you."
I imagine the homeless man would have glared at me and began to tell even more dramatic details about his impoverished life so as to combat me. I would have then made something else up, and we would have gone back and forth until I either got off on my stop or he stabbed me in the gut.
As he was asking for change, he kept telling us about himself. "I am homeless. I live in the Cambridge Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I have no money for food or shelter. If anyone could, please, please, spare any change, I would greatly appreciate it. God bless you. Thank you." And then he would repeat himself. He did this several times.
During one reiteration, I got an idea.
I should've . . . started moving around the train and competing for change, coming up with an even more dramatic story and see which one of us inspired the most sympathy and got the most change. "State legislation has been passed so that I can never live in a house again. I live in the sewers underneath Cambridge, Massachusetts, attempting to stay warm by covering myself in the waste that oozes through those dark, stinking passageways. Rats have eaten off all of my toes. I have arthritis, asthma, and erectile dysfunction. If you could, please, please, spare any change, I would greatly appreciate it. God bless you. Thank you."
I imagine the homeless man would have glared at me and began to tell even more dramatic details about his impoverished life so as to combat me. I would have then made something else up, and we would have gone back and forth until I either got off on my stop or he stabbed me in the gut.
18 January 2012
(#24) The "Roundhouse Kick" I Should've
I find people who complain excessively to be very, very annoying. Lucky me, I am stuck with such a person for the next few of months.
I went to my first class of the new semester this evening to find myself in it with a girl who complains about everything. She doesn't like the classes she's taking (including the one we are currently in together), the literature course she took in the fall made her never want to take a literature course ever again, and she's tired of the city and just wants to "get back to the farm". Please! By all means, go back to the farm! It went on and on.
When we moved into the classroom (we had been early and were waiting outside of it for a few minutes), I was pleasantly surprised. We were on the 11th floor and had an amazing view of Boston. It overlooked the Common and the capital building and all kinds of tall, lit up buildings. The view is definitely the best I have seen since coming to Boston, and I get to take it all in every week. It's great.
But as this girl continued complaining before class, and then during class, my patience grew very thin and I began fantasizing . . .
I should've . . . grabbed the girl and thrown her towards the large windows that overlooked the city. I should've then shaken her and screamed "I'm sorry, but you're not going to make it back to the farm . . . unless the farm to which you want to return is IN HELL!" and then roundhouse kicked her through the window and watched her plummet eleven stories down. At that point, I would've gotten the entire class to lean through the broken glass and tell me what they saw in her blood as it lay splattered across the pavement like a gory rorschach test . . . a dingo . . . a locomotive train . . . maybe even SpongeBob SquarePants! Oh, what fun!
I went to my first class of the new semester this evening to find myself in it with a girl who complains about everything. She doesn't like the classes she's taking (including the one we are currently in together), the literature course she took in the fall made her never want to take a literature course ever again, and she's tired of the city and just wants to "get back to the farm". Please! By all means, go back to the farm! It went on and on.
When we moved into the classroom (we had been early and were waiting outside of it for a few minutes), I was pleasantly surprised. We were on the 11th floor and had an amazing view of Boston. It overlooked the Common and the capital building and all kinds of tall, lit up buildings. The view is definitely the best I have seen since coming to Boston, and I get to take it all in every week. It's great.
But as this girl continued complaining before class, and then during class, my patience grew very thin and I began fantasizing . . .
I should've . . . grabbed the girl and thrown her towards the large windows that overlooked the city. I should've then shaken her and screamed "I'm sorry, but you're not going to make it back to the farm . . . unless the farm to which you want to return is IN HELL!" and then roundhouse kicked her through the window and watched her plummet eleven stories down. At that point, I would've gotten the entire class to lean through the broken glass and tell me what they saw in her blood as it lay splattered across the pavement like a gory rorschach test . . . a dingo . . . a locomotive train . . . maybe even SpongeBob SquarePants! Oh, what fun!
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