My neck hurts and I have a headache and Wendy's burgers are total crap once they've been re-heated in a microwave.
I am home alone - Michelle is at Girl's Brigade, and Bonnette is not here.
I have some 'things'(thoughts, observations, whatever... probably of little-to-no actual 'knowledge' content (see below)) from today, but shall be reciting them in the most boring fashion cos I'm in a bad mood and I don't care. Not even a bit. Scribbled on the back of my hand, so I don't forget them, are reminders of two incidents I that wish to recall and relate to you this evening.
The first scribbling says 'g on sc'.
This is iminahurryish for 'girl on scales'. You're still none the wiser, so I shall continue. Part of my route from work to car when I go out for tech lectures during the day takes me through the Downtown Shoppping Centre (Aucklanders will be familiar with this, others may not), wherein lies the Downtown Pharmacy. Outside the pharmacy is one of those units that you stand on, and it prints out a little thermally-printed slip of paper that tells you your height and your weight and calculates your Body Mass Index(BMI) or something-or-other. So out of the pharmacy with a $1 coin walks a girl, who stands on the scales and puts in her coin. This was all very well... until I noticed she was wearing heels. Does not the fact that she is wearing heels (not terribly short ones, either) render the purchased results useless?? Why would someone pay money for false data? Well, I figured, She was either trying to fool herself (since increasing ones height without changing ones weight produces a more favourable BMI (and it is much easier to make yourself taller than it is to make yourself lighter)), or she was going to take it to show her friends, and say 'look at me - I'm more better than you'. Either of those two possibilities automatically lead me to make a decision(at least in my own mind) that she is not a very nice person. Upon realisation of this fact I felt most terrible, and nearly rushed over to apologise, mostly to apologise, but also that I might actually interact with her in the hope that she might turn out to be a really nice person who was creating ficticious data as part of a study, or that she was in fact a service techinician calibrating the unit.
Conclusion: My bad mood really does tint my glasses.
The second scribbling says 's h g - limit'.
This is illthinkaboutitlaterish for 'scary homeless guy - over the limit'. You're none the wiser on this one either, so allow me to elaborate. Earlier this year, through some version upgrade or bug fix, or something, I gained an enhanced version of the 'conciousness of homeless people' add-on. See back in my blog for details - I can't be bothered finding the link(s). Now, one of chaps who frequents the CBD is rather tall, rather unwashed, has longish scraggly black hair, and is very scary. He draws on his face with permanent markers, and sits around on benches frightening people. He actually reaches out to grab you, giving out a short sharp bark. I've yet to see him grab anyone, but its jolly disconcerting, nonetheless. He is, quite clearly, out of his mind. Now, this got me back to mulling over the question - is homelessness the catalyst for mental instability, or is mental instability the reason for homelessness? In the case of the scary chap, I really do wonder what would happen if a very brave person of great strength and patience, took this chap aside, offered him a place to live, new clothes, employment and a sense of family - just straight up, no strings, off the bat. Would this semi-imposed sense of belonging, order and sanity have a positive effect on this man's life - on his mental health? Would he find somemeaning in life, beyond simply scaring passers-by?
Conclusion: Who knows, but it would be a most interesting and potentially rewarding venture.
Another thought, not annotated on the back of my hand, but a thought all the same, is this:
'Nice People'. Aren't they simply great? I was walking back to work, and happened apon a colleague of mine walking the other way. This person is perhaps the 'Nicest Person Ever', and after just stopping to chat about trivialites for but a minute, I found myself still smiling at least 5 minutes later, despite my previously dull mood. What makes a 'Truly Nice Person' is determined by too many parameters to think about in this sitting, but I'm sure a great proportion of it has to do with an indwelling of the Holy Spirit in that 'Nice Person'.
Conclusion: I hope I am a 'Nice Person'.
