On Passion

I am a fairly dispassionate person. While I don't know if I would recommend this state of being, it does help when confronted with emergencies and dilemmas.

It does not help, however, when interacting with others.

It seems that other people expect you to be aghast when they tell you that some celebrity or distant relative has died. While I certainly understand the pain a person feels, it seems that expecting me to feel the same pain is unproductive, at best.

Listenings, 4-13

I do enjoy listening to people. Here's an hour of my life:

G's seventy. Loves baseball. Knows more about it than anyone else in here, except maybe MK (according to him). He's not a huge fan of the Phillies though, which was surprising. He likely comes in every Saturday and gets the same sandwich: a cheesesteak with horseradish on the side. He's pretty happy it's a nice day out, if only because the next bar on his route won't be so smokey (they'll have the doors open). He's friends with everyone there and bought D a drink. He said that he'd have to try the hot turkey sandwich I was eating, but I suspect he'll never get around to it. I'm not sure if he was legitimately curious or was 'repping' the bar when he asked whether or not the potatoes were "real" or not (they were).