Sometimes I like people I don’t know better than the people I do know

“Sometimes I like people I don’t know better than the people I do know.”

A friend said that to me the other day. I laughed and told her that she was weird, so she gave me an example of a woman who gave her a stack of bus tickets for free because she got them at work and thought my friend seemed like a nice person.

That got me thinking later on about the things people do for others.

There have been many times when people that I do not know offer to help me with things. Just the other day, I was wheeling myself in the rain from the parking lot to my apartment. A couple was walking out from my building. The young woman saw me and rushed towards me. I didn’t even notice it. She quickly came up beside me and held her umbrella over me and walked with me to my apartment so I wouldn’t get wet.

And there were so many times, in the months after my accident and even to this day, that people I hardly knew really made a lasting impression on me. I have received kind words and sometimes guidance via visits, phone calls, e-mails, and messages. I now consider some of these people “angels” or “saints” for me. Those who frequently visited me in the hospital are included. If anyone from my class is reading this, there are some of you who I have the utmost respect for and you may be unaware of it. It may just due to something you said to me or did for me that you do not even remember.

Why does it mean more to us when these people do things for us?

Because we do not expect it. Perhaps we expect too much from the people we know. We want them—sometimes need them—to do things for us. They were there for us in happy times. Shouldn’t they be here us when we need them? We certainly like to think so.

Also, we do not know the flaws of a stranger. Our impression of them is not clouded by the previous things they have said or done. We only know the benevolent action.

Can we not continue to appreciate our friends and those close to us as if each action is being done with purity? The question, “Can you get this for me please? I’d appreciate it,” becomes the statement, “Get that for me,” after a while with those with whom we are close. We seem to lose our gratitude towards them.

But perhaps that’s the sign that people really are close to us. We understand that certain things are not a burden for them. It took me a long time to be able to ask for help from people—even from my close friends. After my accident, I noticed my closest friends becoming frustrated with me when I asked things politely or thanked them for an action. They should know that although I do not thank them often for the things they do, even the smallest things are appreciated by me. I love you all.

And what makes strangers want to do things for us? What do they get out of it? They may not see us again. We can never repay them.

Perhaps that’s it: the purity of intention. Doesn’t it feel great to help someone pick up some papers they dropped, or offer them your seat when they seem tired, or do any other miniscule action? The smile they may or may not give us in return is more than anything tangible we could ever receive.

When everything seems to be falling down around us, instead of hoping someone does something to help us, why not do something for someone else? I know I feel a lot better when I do this.

Mama's Boy

It’s the little things that are missed. I’m sure people can relate to that.

Example: the little things about someone, like the strange things they do, or the way your friend can make you laugh at the stupidest things.

Another example: the little things about a place, like the smells or the way the sun peaks through the trees, accentuating certain things.

One of the memories I have that I miss is cramming hard and sleeping later during the week, hanging out Friday night, waking up late Saturday morning, going to Mama’s Boy for brunch, and then going for a walk in the park out behind the restaurant.

I go to school down the street from there now but I’ve haven’t been since I graduated from undergrad.

That’s a sweet memory, though. Mama’s Boy has a little parking out front so when it gets busy—as it usually does on weekends for brunch—you have to park out back. I remember a bridge. Is it something you have to cross to get to the park or is it overhead? Am I even thinking about the right place?

Some of my favorite memories have been in parks: going to a park near a friend’s place and wading through the river; mountain biking with my friend on the trails in another park; going to Stone Mountain Park with some friends and having trouble grilling up hotdogs (I was told that happened the day before my accident? It seems like decades ago).

Now that parks and the things I did aren’t accessible for me anymore, I miss them. I think it's the peace that they bring me. The grass, the tress, the sun--I love being wrapped by these things. I want to lay out in the grass and take in these things.

I always get nostalgic around exam time when I am trapped inside studying.

Just like we should enjoy the time we spend with people because they may not be here soon, we should enjoy the places we spend time in. Maybe it’s not the places that are significant. Perhaps it’s the people we were with and the memories that were made at that particular time and place. After all, it’s not where you are or what you do; it’s who you’re with that really matters.

Random thought 1/7/11, 11:30 PM

Sometimes, I scratch that place on my thighs right above my knees. I remember I used to randomly scratch it for some reason because it would itch slightly. Now, I think I can still feel it every so often, so I give myself the comfort of scratching it.