Misanthropy FAIL.

(October 26, 2006)

I've found that one serious benefit of thinking just about everyone is an asshole is that sometimes I get overwhelmed by random acts of kindness that aren't really that big of a deal.

A week ago, one of my classmates from the post-war British drama seminar and I realized we were at the same concert five years ago. Ok, maybe that's not that weird; U2 has a lot of fans, I know. They're kind of a big deal. But I think it's weird that we found out, because he's from Virginia and I'm from Ohio and, somehow, we both ended up in Cleveland's Gund Arena -- which is really fun to say, because it sounds like a venereal disease -- rocking out at the same time.

Also, we both had tickets to see them in Boston in 2004, and neither of us ended up going. Eerie.
So, those two discoveries alone were enough to make me forget about the need for universal health care for a minute, and enjoy the humanness of the whole thing in an oh-how-sweet-we're-all-connected state of mind.

But then, Jim shows up to class last night -- with mix CDs. Mix CDs! U2 live, and Beatles b-sides! I mean, come on. That nearly destroyed me. It was one of those completely unselfish acts of thoughtfulness that left me shaking my head in amazement (Cynics, take note: Jim is in his mid-thirties and married, so it really was an unselfish act of thoughtfulness, not a geeky romantic gesture. Not that mix CDs aren't romantic. You know what I mean.). I still haven't fully recovered.