In Walnut Creek, Jaywalking is a Bad Thing. A dangerous and risky business that must be discouraged, even punished, to save the local residents from injury and possible death.
In San Francisco, on the other hand, Jaywalking is an accepted part of life in the Big City. It is overlooked, even encouraged, by the constabulary, perhaps as an aid to controlling the growth of the local population.
Everyone must make their own choices, and accept the consequences. The rest of us must accept those choices, even if we believe them to be discourteous, unwise or even unconscionable, Nevertheless, don't be surprised if I get pissed when your choices affect me in a negative way.
By "pigeon-toed" I mean that one's toes point inward toward each other. Charlie Chaplin wwas the very antithesis of pigeon-toed.
I also happen to find pigeon-toed people rather unattractive, but there's nothing wrong with that. Plenty of people find blondes, or redheads unattractive, or heavyset or skinny people, people with not enough muscles or too big a nose. Breasts that are too small, or too large. Attractiveness is a very personal, subjective matter, and what turns one on or off is as arbitrary as people themselves.
But taking a physical attribute, and assigning a personality trait to it, is nothing more than a prejudice. It is extremely unfair to the people concerned, and makes no more sense than, say, claiming that tall people are more artistic than short people. It is not something I am proud of. But I can't help it.
Nonetheless, I do not treat pigeon-toed people any differently than anyone else. I do not do more or less for them because of it, I do not hire or fire them because of it, I don't act as if I am better than they are, because I am not pigeon-toed. What I think, no matter how distasteful, unpleasant, and illogical it may be, is my business, and is protected by the constitution. Acting upon it, however, is another matter.
We are all free to think what we want; we are not necessarily free to do anything about it. Yes, I must deal and come to terms with my shortcoming, but in the mean time, I can not, must not, let it alter my interactions with others.
Guilt comes from within. It is a recognition of a debt unpaid, or a responsibility unkept. "Guilt trips" are nothing more than a painful reminder of whatever it is within us that causes a feeling of guilt. If you truly feel no resposibility, no debt, than nothing anyone can say could make you feel guilty. If you are troubled by guilt, then it is your conscience that is not clear.
I was at a concert recently, featuring the Santa Fe Chamber Orchestra. On the program was one of Mendelssohn's early works (his second, in fact), and one of Brahms. After the concert had ended, and the applause died down, and the people began gathering their coats and belongings, I overheard a exhuberant woman gushing on about the performance and the music, and how good it all was.
She went on to comment how today there are now prodigies such as Mendelssohn and Brahms. This comment (which I may very well have mis-heard) stuck in my mind as I left the concert hall. I wondered, too, why there were few great contemporary composers, especially in light of one of the other pieces on the program that day, a work by a composer named Schnittke, written in 1985 and not getting any better with age.
I got to the parking lot and realized that the woman was wrong. There are modern day musical geniuses, but they no longer work with harpsichord and symphony. Many choose to compose for electric guitar or rock quartet. The example that came to mind immediately was Kenny Wayne Shepherd, a young blues guitarist whose instrumental pieces are jam-packed with emotion.
There are others, of course. Prince (or the artist formerly known thereas) was a child prodigy, and continues to write musically correct and notable pieces. Shania Twain, a country/western singer, hit the top of the charts at an early age, as did Bonnie Raitt.
But today, not all of our prodigies are limited to the music industry. Many have sprung up in the science world. Woz, for example. And Bill Gates. Many others are out there, unknown, but with their products still loaded on people's hard drives.
I figured that it was a case of some people thinking that their business was more important, their errand more urgent, their lives more significant than mine. That somehow, they were better than me, and therefore had some sort of right to go in front of me.
Then one day, I realized why it was wrong to cut in line in traffic, other than the sheer rudeness of it. You see, if traffic is moving along at, say, 55 mph and a sign announces that the left lane will end two miles ahead, cars can then merge (two miles in advance) at near their existing speed, say 45 mph.
If, however, they wait until the last minute, (perhaps going around and ahead of the cars merging right away,) they will end up merging at close to 0 mph. This of course means that everyone behind them, likewise, is now traveling at near 0 mph.
So, in order to gain a few seconds advatange, they force all the other people on the road to slow almost to a stop. They are attempting to better their position at the expense of others. This, of course, is completely unacceptable.
Then my sister came up with a plausible excuse. She suggested that perhaps when they pulled the knob or pushed the lever or twisted the handle, perhaps they were unwittingly not quite pulling, pushing, or twisting far enough. That made sense. So now I just think they're stupid.
Then there's that evil looking weapon of torture so many have to yank on their eyelashes. I don't know what that's for, but if someone came at me with one of those, I sure as heck would do my best to kill them.
Of course, most women like this completely ignore the fact that all the makeup in the world won't get someone interested in anything but spreading their legs and making a deposit. If you want people to like you, there's no better beauty aid than a nice smile and a sweet disposition. If you like yourself (sans Max Factor) others will too.
Don't let life pass you by. There's too much good stuff going on to just sit back and watch it from the stands. Get out, enjoy yourself, and above all, live life. I'd much rather die trying to keep active and busy than to stay alive by playing it safe.
What is the "real world"? Is it working two jobs, 70 hours a week, getting 3 hours a sleep per night? Is it living up to one's responsibilities? Facing one's creditors and dealing with them? Or is it smashing a water bottle because you've been kicked out for not paying "rent", when rent was only spending time with one's own father and taking him places.
Maybe the real world isn't working three jobs, getting only a few hours sleep (which are worthless because your body keeps forgetting to breathe), waking up to change urine-soaked sheets, spending an hour and a half on the bus, working, to get to another, dull job, only to go home, fix dinner, work some more, and go to bed, to be tortured by nightmares.
Maybe it isn't. Maybe it's worse.
On the one hand, there is the fact of brotherhood, not genetic, but social brotherhood. A life-long friend and companion, the life of the party, the occasionally thoughtful. Perhaps one should just let him live there; he doesn't cost much. A little extra heat, some water, a bit of food (okay, a lot of food). What is that compared to a little generousity, a little decency?
On the other hand, there is the broken promises, the missing money, the constant requests to "borrow" money -- as if it were ever to be paid back. There are the root beers, sitting on the kitchen floor, rather than in the fridge to replace those drunk. There is the space, which would be nice to use as a computer room, or music room, or library, or storage room. There are the dead cars in the backyard, and car parts everywhere -- car parts for a car that's not mine. There's the fact of living with a constant reminder that it always falls to you to solve everyone's problems, to support the others, to do what must be done, whilst everyone else does what could be done. There are broken dreams and reminders of lost hopes.
How hard is it to throw one's brother out on the streets? Very hard. But what's one more nightmare added to the bunch?
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