In the morning: the guy with the mustache coming down the stairs rolls his eyes in irritation as the mass and press of humanity storms out of the subway cars and shoves him aside on its way out of the station. I think, somewhat piously, about how good it would be for everyone not to take things so personally when the world knocks them around a bit.
When I'm coming home from work, tentatively making my way over the icy drifts piled several feet high at the at the corners and in the crosswalks, a woman walks briskly past me crossing the street, and I find myself annoyed. What, I'm not walking fast enough for you? I think to myself, and pick up the pace.
One year ago: Hard to Stomach
Two years ago: Talking Back to Showtime (cont'd)
Four years ago: Honesty is the Best