I was watching an episode of CSI: NY the other day (Yes, it was one I had already seen before and, no, I do not feel the need to explain my family’s CSI, Law & Order tradition to you now…) and one small thing caught my attention. There was a mentally ill man who thought he was Clark Kent and he tried to stop a robbery at an ATM which resulted in him being killed in an alley after pursuing the thief. Now, that didn’t surprise me, CSI wouldn’t be CSI if someone didn’t think they were a superhero and there has to be a crime scene or the whole thing would take place in a very boring office building. What made me hesitate was that the guy who was mugged, when told that the man was dead, simply said, “The man in the cape? He saved my life and I’ll never be able to thank him.” Huh… I mean, that’s sweet and exactly what you would want to believe you or any half decent person would say, but really? Not once did he say, what was up with the costume? Seriously? And it bothered me. Not because he didn’t ask, but because I thought it seemed odd that he didn’t. Maybe it’s a peek into my twisted view of humanity right now that I think it’s unrealistic to think someone wouldn’t make fun of him a little. Maybe I’m just too critical of media portrayals, like books where the fiercely independent strangers end up madly in love and engaged in the short span of three or four story months and about 250 pages (yeah, I’m talking to you, Miss Hoag). Whatever the reason, I’m a little dismayed that my mind automatically leans that way. I have an urge to build a mental prop of Lincoln logs or little cerebral legos in a frantic effort to straighten the direction of my thoughts. I want to think nice things about people. I want to believe most of us would make the right decisions in difficult situations, that selflessness and altruism are not completely spent like another forgotten rainforest or the plight of the dolphins. In all honesty, I see as many people hurt one another as help. I see people completely oblivious to the way their actions affect those around them, completely blind to the fact that their words and behaviors have an impact on countless others. I remember my mother telling me the Golden Rule when I was younger and how simple it seemed, how basic. Maybe it is that simple for some people, people who are innately good and kind and righteous. I am obviously not one of those people. It is a constant struggle for me to put myself in other people’s shoes. I don’t mean it is necessarily difficult to accomplish once I remember to attempt it, but I find myself a little overwhelmed sometimes by the many things I try to pile into singular minutes and in the rush to deal, to survive and achieve and create something better than myself out of the tiny pieces of matter I have access to, I admit… I forget. Sometimes things feel harder than they should and days seem longer and colder and lonelier. Sometimes I let myself forget how lucky I am, how simple my life has been and how I wake up every day warm and safe and loved. Sometimes I get bitchy. Sometimes I think I am too busy worrying about what few troubles I have to be happy for a friend who has had something precious happen. Sometimes I am too quick to jump to conclusions and too slow to apologize. I’m getting better, though. I’m trying to catch myself, take a deep breath before I speak, mentally count my blessings and respond to people with love and encouragement. Occasionally I still flip off a drunk bastard without looking up from my book, but hey, no one’s perfect. :)