Whenever I encounter a particularly unpleasant person I generally assume they’re just having a bad day. It’s getting harder to be naive these days. I saw a girl yesterday drop a lighter, and she didn’t notice so I picked it up and approached her.

“Excuse me,” I said, lighter in hand, ready to complete my Good Deed For The Day.

“I have a boyfriend,” said Miss Derisive, her head spinning around like a demon that could never be properly exorcised.

In the spirit of the stairs, I should have marveled at how delighted that boyfriend must be with such a charming lady as she, but instead I put the leopard-print Zippo lighter in my pocket and walked away. Regretfully, of course, because now she must think she was justified, now her presumptuous bitchiness will continue unimpeded until she loses every last thing in her purse.

So it goes?

I made up for yesterday’s missed Good Deed by starting the day off with a zinger. A construction worker waiting for the bus almost forgot his hard hat on the bench. And properly, he just said thank you.

I walked to the edge, looked down, knew I wouldn’t, and jumped anyway.

The last time I dove into water was when I was 8, and even then it wasn’t really diving since I always jumped feet-first. This kind of head-first diving was something from the swimming lessons that I didn’t take because of chronic ear infections. Because of these infections, I never learned how to tread water, and only this past year have I gone swimming when I was at the beach. And with growing confidence, now I can dive into a lake from about a meter up! And not just once, but three times, and dozens of times from lower heights! If I keep this up, soon I won’t even need my water wings!

On a completely different note, one of the points I was trying to really get at with my Comicle called “Patriotism is Relative” was my belief that any two people will always be able to find common ground between them. Sure, you may have to use extreme examples — ie, the comic’s punchline — but it’s possible. I’m not a fan of division, and there are so many ways societies divide themselves, as seen with politics, or sports, or food choices. And of course, some division is necessary in order to stimulate discourse and develop new ideas, but it seems to me like when we attack or defend these differences with hostility, we’re just not being productive. So next time you’re about to get into an argument, start by agreeing that you’re both alive, and go from there.

People are interesting creatures. At a store today, I got into the line behind a man just finishing the process of commerce. A woman standing nearby, clearly upset by my lack of telepathy, cleared her throat.

“Excuse me,” she said derisively, “but I’m in line.”

I turned around, confused because I hadn’t seen anybody there. (I’m not one of those heinous line-cutters, after all.) But there she was, as far removed from the Standard Line Area as she could be, scowling. I looked at where she was, looked back at where the line was, and looked back at her.

“Way over there?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, destroying villages with her scowl. “This is where the line is.”

I wasn’t especially interested in either arguing or moving, so I stepped aside to let her in since the previous fellow had left. The cashier was printing, stapling, filing, and otherwise just waiting for her, and it’s not like I was in a hurry or anything, but this woman just wasn’t moving, so I told her that she could probably approach the counter now.

“What, are you directing line traffic or something?” (Another village destroyed.)

“No,” I said, “but standing so far back just seems a little absurd.”

She then proceeded to pay for something, put it in her purse, and insist that the cashier didn’t give it to her at all. For context, she was maybe in her late thirties and gave every indication of having lived in the posh part of Vancouver her whole life. We didn’t speak again even though I was very curious about her understanding of how local procedures of commerce worked.

And on an unintentionally-somewhat-related note, weeks ago I was groggy and doodling and whipped up this aggressive little dude. It started out as a can tab, but then grew a weird tablecloth body and wooden fists. I call him Tabman. He looks odd, I know, but he obviously doesn’t like you staring at him, so please stop. Thank you.

I’ve been awfully busy these days taking advantage of the warmth of the sun. I’ve been on the beach, in the water, in the woods, and doing everything summerly that I can. Because of this increase in fun personal activities, my updates have been more and more infrequent. I know you understand, because you’re swell like that. You’re a great big steaming pile of awesome, and you know it!

After Ultimate last night, someone pointed out that one of our opponents was missing a hand. My first reaction was to feel guilty for playing as hard as I normally would, but later reflection left me wondering. Surely by playing a sport that so frequent involves the hands she must want to be treated equally, so if I had adjusted my level of play, wouldn’t that have been insulting? Would I have played differently had I known before or during the game?

At a tournament many years ago, an opponent was missing most of his left arm. This was a much more noticeable amputation, and I found myself changing my intensity while covering him. Not smart. This guy knew the game and he was fast. Even when I was firing on all pistons, I barely kept up with him. I couldn’t treat him like anyone else; he was too good.

This makes me wonder about other physical limitations. Like how I’ll always take advantage of a mismatch with a slow defender. This is of course just good strategy. But what if instead of a slow defender, it was someone who was blind in one eye and I purposefully stayed to that side? Would that be fair play or would I be capitalizing on disadvantages?

The thought I had while making my way home last night was how my actions change, consciously or not, when my awareness changes. The conclusion I came to — at least as far as sport goes — is that if you’re coming to my house, be ready to play. But if we’re going to a tea party, well, I’ll take it down a notch.