You're Supposed To Write This

Humans are never a bore. An annoyance maybe when it comes to common sense, or a disappointment when it comes to morality, but there's nothing to get you thinking and feeling more than the human race. Sure, teacup-sized animals with pillow soft fur might make you awww a bit and the mysteries and deep open spaces of unexplored nature have you marveling, but the flesh and blood that we brush shoulders with daily, or the funny habits we squint our eyes at when we are privileged enough to catch a quick glance, never cause a dull moment. Especially in New York, where the time gaps in between memorable human encounters is almost as short as our patience being in close quarters with them.  This week alone has been full of blog-worthy encounters and non-encounters with the city's quiet inhabitants, and it's been fascinating. For instance, there was the scruffily dressed, dreadlocked man in line at the Bank of America on 7th Avenue, whose staff know him on a first name basi...

I wouldn’t say I’m popular, but I love meeting people. My circle of affiliations, my rolodex, expands at an alarming rate.   Friends. Mentors. Peers. Associates. Mentees. Co-workers. Classmates. Whatever you choose to call them, I have a lot of them. When I sit and recollect my scraps of a social life, I often find myself in the midst of some extremely diverse crowds and in the company of some very special individuals. I see it all as blessings in the form of mixxy behavior.