Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Day 3: Broke But Gave This Man A Dollar?

I gave the therapist $35 of the $50 I had in my pocket today, and I also had to take a cash advance off my credit card (something I testified that I would never do, but I had to because my Chase payment for $553 is coming out of the bank today and I only had $327 in the bank). But on Friday I went to put the damn money in the bank to pay Chase, but Friday the bank took $180 out of my personal accounts to pay for the loans I have open on the business. I was like "Dammit!" So now I gotta watch this and go and pay these things in the bank instead of doing it online because the bank is snatching it from me.

But even despite this, I gave a Latino man standing on 6th Avenue a dollar. Why? Because he had this condition with his face where it was swollen and red and severely deformed. I thought to myself that if it was hard for me to find employment, I wondered if it was harder for him? His face was hard to look at and I'm sure people discriminate against him all the time. I gave him the dollar and he said "Thank You", smiled, and gave me a postcard. He seemed very appreciative. It said, "Life is an act of value." It had some other things on it. Also on the postcard he explained what he was suffering from which was "Hemangioma". Here is a pic of what it looks like:

I said to myself that I am quick to think that I have it so bad. I can't imagine what it was like for him growing up. So even though I need my money I gave him a buck. If his goal was to tear on your heart strings, he succeeded with me. I saw how no one was stopping or even paying him any attention. I kept walking and then stopped and turned and went back to him. I did think for a second and said, "Hey, he has money to buy these nice ass postcards though!" Anyhow, I guess he probably is explaining his condition all day long so that's why he invested in the postcards? So there was something inside of me to help this guy even though no one is helping me. I think sometimes that this is a character flaw because people just end up screwing me over in the long run. But I'm probably too old to change this now. Being nice counts for shyt and I know this, but I act otherwise.

There was another man in the Port Authority begging for money for a bus ticket. He was telling people about himself and what he did and what not, and was saying that he had to get to Massachussetts. No one that I saw gave him anything. I said to myself, "People don't give a shyt about your sob story." I have to remind myself of this. No one cares about your mess!

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