Spectator...

I've heard we shouldn't  spend life watching from the bleachers.  We need to be involved, be a player.  But sitting here at a pub in Boston I can't help but sit in wonder at the circus of people all around me and enjoy the acts being played out before me.  The drunk chicks at the bar, trying desparately to come off attractive and engaging.  The cluster of techie geeks  trying to measure their intellect as if they're the Ron Jeremy of IT. A group of Russian speaking people that makes me miss the days of the Cold War and, if given the chance, we would've bitch-slapped those fuckers out of eastern Europe. There's the semi-cute blonde waitress that's trying to put on enough charm to earn more than a 10% tip. Or how about those salesmen who are trying to hock their wares to a poor schmock who's just trying to get through a burnt grilled cheese sandwich while fighting thoughts of suicide, because that seems like a better option than going back to that dung pile he calls a life?  Sometimes it's nice to sit back and watch, like a really bad reality TV show, and feel some level of contentment that it's not your life being played out before you.  It truly makes me feel thankful for my life and for all those in it...