Maturity.
Posted at 02:38 AM

"Don't do things for me, do them for yourself," he always said to me.

This statement always seemed silly and immature.

As children, we start out wanting things for ourselves. I want that doll. I want that kind of cereal. I want to go play. I want, and want, and want. We don't really think of what that doll is going to cost, or whether that cereal is really nutritious for us, or whether it is a good time to go out and play. We just have simple wants and desires for ourselves, and don't really care what concerns other people may have.

After some time, I wanted to leave home, live downtown, and be far away from my family.

I didn't really care what the effects were. I just simply wanted to move away.

It was in my moments of solitude and loneliness that I wanted someone to care about and for me. This worked for quite some time, but then I realized that wasn't what I wanted.

I thought I wanted to see the world, so I went and traveled the world.  I thought I wanted tranquility, so I took it easy over the summer.  I thought I wanted to keep busy, so I nearly killed myself and took 21 hours one semester.  I thought I wanted to be loved again, so I found it, and carelessly tossed it aside when it bored me again.

Now I've come to think that perhaps it's not what "I want" that I want anymore. Perhaps when children stop being children, is when they stop hearing their own wants and needs, and start  caring about  other people's wants and needs.

With that epiphany, I suddenly realized that perhaps I was talking to a man who was still a child, not quite ready to hear the wants and needs of a matured woman. 

Not a Typical Beggar.
Posted at 01:24 AM

He approached us as we were almost back home, and stopped a few feet away.  It was half past midnight, and honestly, I was a bit startled.  There was something in his mannerism, a bit of fear, a bit of shame, and a bit of desperation, that put my senses on alert, and I was shaken out of my drowsiness.

He explained that he was a med student at Yale.  He was in town to give a presentation of some sort for his doctoral thesis.  He was dropped off at the Hilton but his cab driver drove away with all of his stuff.  He had gone down to the pharmacy to get anti-viral medication but needed $18.50 for his co-pay.  He was black, gay, and he had HIV.

He promised he wasn't on crack, wasn't crazy, and wasn't trying to scam me.  He told me he approached us because he "had a feeling that I looked like a good, kind-hearted soul." I believed him. 

And so the three of us walked to the nearest ATM.  I handed him a crisp, new twenty without blinking.  He asked for an email address or phone number to pay me back.  I wrote it down on a piece of newspaper, but I told him not to worry about it.  I would probably spend it on something frivolous anyway.

We parted on the street corner and I bid him good luck with the thesis and farewell.  I walked away $23 less tonight, but really, I think I gained a lot more in good karma.