Privilege

Yesterday I listened to an episode of This American Life from a week back called "The View From In Here". In Act One, we hear about the story of an inmate and corrections officer who had sat down together to share a real conversation for the first time. This was put together after the inmates watched a documentary called "The House I Live In", which talks about, among other things, how the war on drugs has perpetuated a vicious cycle of locking away drug offenders for relatively short stints that render them unable to earn an honest dollar because they are turned away from jobs and college grants due to their record.

Much like all of us, in a way, these offenders have to do whatever it takes to make a dollar. As a result of their situation, they choose selling drugs or theft to line their pockets. If I were them, I'd probably do the same thing.

There are a lot of things I could write about today, like most days. Last night my car was broken into for the third time since I moved to Tacoma. Like the first time, I did myself no favors by parking in an empty Foss High School parking lot instead of paying the measly five bucks for parking at Cheney Stadium for the Rainiers game. In my defense, crowds have been so thick for the only two other games I've been to that parking here seemed like a natural and popular choice. Regardless, this was not the case tonight and I ended up with a rock through my window and down a stereo face plate and iPod again.

Thanks in part to the comforting presence of Aly, I reacted more calmly than the last two times. There was not much I could do after the fact and knew this was an avoidable situation. If we'd have biked there or parked in the stadium lot I'd still have a passenger side window. If I'd have brought my valuables instead of leaving them in the glove compartment then I'd still have them. Nothing to do but clean up the mess and replace what I'd lost.

The One Awesome Thing today is that I can do that. I have the money and ability to replace my window, stereo, and iPod if I want to. I live in a house with a garage to keep my windowless car safe until the missing one is replaced.

Who knows what the story is of the man or woman who busted my window to earn themselves a hundred bucks for my old stuff. What I do know is that my story is different. It is one of privilege. I came from a family that raised me well and provided for me. I learned the value of a dollar and have done what it's taken to earn the dollars I have. I came from a family of resourcefulness, which has resulted in the privilege I've provided for myself to be able to afford a comfortable lifestyle. For this I am forever thankful to God for providing.

It's easy to get down on yourself or others when something awful like this happens. How often we forget how much God has blessed us in these times. Bad things happen to good people all the time, but we are quick to forget that good things happen to good and bad people all the same.

Let us thank God for the blessings He has provided today. The sins of my assailant and myself have been washed away with the blood of Christ. Neither of us deserve it, so we've already received far more than we shall ever need.

Stories

Too many things to mention from one of my best weekends in Washington. Timber! Outdoor Music Festival was this weekend, featuring an array of talent from the Pacific Northwest. There were some amazing folks I've seen a few times before like Ivan & Alyosha, Lemolo, and my favorite Seattle songwriter, Noah Gundersen, and some other great performers I hadn't seen before like Bryan John Appleby, Hobosexual, and Fruit Bats. The most pleasant of surprises was Vikesh Kapoor, who I expect to see more in the near future, including August 13 at Fremont Abbey.

I could honestly write a whole lengthy blog about this amazing weekend, but the One Awesome Thing I want to address today is people's stories. Listening to dynamic songwriters this weekend reminded me that there are plenty of stories to tell.

Everyone has grown up in a different place with unique parents and a variety of rituals and traditions. Listening to Noah Gundersen sing about Jesus, wondering what his thoughts are today, what they were a year ago, and what they will be in ten years is what makes music transcendent. I wonder who was "Easy to Love" for someone in Ivan & Alyosha or who's been off and on for Megan or Kendra from Lemolo.

Stories are what songs are composed of. Without the people living those stories, there would be no story to tell.

We all have our own story. Looking around Timber or the Mariners or Sounders games this weekend, I could only wonder what everyone's story was. Seeing wedding rings on some artists fingers and wondering if they'd told their wives they love them that day. Seeing college-age kids and wondering what other nonsense they'd get into this summer before classes start again. Wondering what brokenness might be temporarily mended by the words Eric D. Johnson or Bryan John Appleby.

This weekend, my story was of a celebration of life celebrated with people whom I care for in a time of my life I'm sure to look back on with thankfulness for the fullness I've experienced.

Spirit-Led Blogging

There were a lot of Awesome Things coming from our weekend in Portland visiting Tim and Lauren. A bagpiper riding a unicycle. A Hispanic folk band doing a photo shoot in the middle of a busy crosswalk. A stretch Geo Metro. If you've been to Portland, you know the list goes on.

But the One Awesome Thing came in my inbox last night. I've been writing this blog for 5 years this summer and it's never been about anything in particular; just random thoughts I've had about the world around me. I left one career (youth ministry) to pursue another (higher education management), which led me from home (Pittsburgh) to where I am today (Tacoma, WA). Despite the seemingly disconnected subject matter, one thing has been consistent; my faith in Jesus Christ.

Writing from the perspective of a twentysomething Christian has helped to engage in some conversations, but mostly with my friend, Meg. We worked together in high school, were friends outside of work for a while, and had lost touch until she started reading my blogs when they'd occasionally pop up. She contacted me to talk about being a twentysomething recovering from "church" (like many of us are), and the conversations have gone from there.

Meg recently made a Spirit-led decision with her life to relocate and wanted to share that with me. I couldn't be more thankful to know that the truths I've shared about who God is have resonated and helped Meg to explore and learn who God is on her own.

I often think about things to write about with the purpose of tooting the horn of my own opinions, but the Tim Keller sermon that Aly and I listened to in the car yesterday reminded us that the Gospel is about the blood of Christ and not our own interpretation, denomination, or philosophy. I'm thankful that I can look back at most of my writing and know that the Spirit and the blood of Christ have been in the marrow of my writing. When Meg reads anything that is good, she's reading the words of the Spirit written with my fingers. That's Awesome.

Sunrise, Sunset

I have not had much free time near a computer lately, so I apologize for slowing down with my One Awesome Thing series. Today's Thing was too good to continue putting off. Sorry, too, that I will be brief today.

This past weekend, we celebrated Aly's birthday with a belated trip to Vashon Island where her friend Kelsey's family owns a house. I could get into details about what we did (biking, sailing, catchphrasing) and how great it was, but I'm sticking to One thing here.

After a long day on Friday capped off with a few rounds of Catchphrase, we started to set up a Roku box to watch a little Netflix. Apparently something was watched, but I fell asleep almost instantly and ended up sleeping on the couch for the first 4 hours of my slumber. Around 4am, I awoke, considering whether to remain on the couch the rest of the night. It was cold and I had a sleeping bag and bed upstairs, so I arose to find this sight.

What beauty! The sun was off in the distance still and was shining some of its light toward Dead Man's Cove (it's not actually called that). I couldn't believe how amazing this sight was, so I snapped this picture.

After going back to sleep for a couple of hours upstairs, I rose to find what seemed to be a light that someone had turned on in our stairwell. I arose to investigate, only to find that the sunrise itself was what was causing this sight. See here.

I could go on and on about this beauty, but I'll let those pictures speak for themselves. In short, it is moments like these that remind me how blessed I am to live in Washington.

When Someone Else Makes Plans For You

I had started to write a couple different blogs yesterday then stopped. They weren't appropriate and were too prideful in nature, talking about things I like but with the context of things I don't like. That's not the point! This is!

We're going to Vashon Island tonight to belatedly celebrate Aly's birthday. Her best friend's family has a cabin on (near?) the Sound, so it sounds like it's going to be a great time.

One of my favorite parts of this excursion? I haven't made any of the plans! If you look at my desk, you might think I'm a pretty solid "P" on the MBTI, but I lean more into the "J" category simply because I like to make sure my ducks are all in a row before letting myself relax. That especially goes for making plans to do FUN things! I like to be in charge of what sort of fun is happening, where, and when, so I tend to insert myself into the planning role.

Not this time, though. I have very little idea what sort of entertainment even exists on Vashon, so I haven't bothered to so much as make a suggestion. I knew we'd have to get there via ferry and that we'd leave today and come back tomorrow, but nothing else. Tell me where to be and what to bring. It'll be a great time celebrating Aly!

Our lives can be lived this way every day. God has a plan, which means that any plan I make can just be thrown out the window, anyways. I constantly have to remind myself that I'm here for a reason. There are plenty of good things about living here (Aly, Michelle from the Club, this beautiful summer), so it's easy to remember why I'm so far from my familiar territory. I know that living in Pittsburgh or anywhere else would not be as ideal as I romanticize, so it's good to remember that and constantly think about the good things in my life.

God's plan may not always feel good, right, and perfect; but it is! All the time. Everywhere.

Vonnegut

I have only read a collection of short stories and 1.4 of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.'s novels (Slaughterhouse-Five with Breakfast of Champions currently in the mix), but I love them all. His satirical approach to describing war and America is something I simply haven't experienced otherwise. We take ourselves very seriously here, which is why I'm not surprised by the friends of mine over time who have enjoyed Vonnegut's writing. It's cutting, witty, and matter-of-fact. Moreso, his cuts on American society in the 20th century carry truth; which is really the point of satire, isn't it?

I was going to list satire on its own as the One Awesome Thing today, but that goes against the point of this series. Satire is defined as "in which vices, follies, abuses, and shortcomings are held up to ridicule, ideally with the intent of shaming individuals, and society itself, into improvement." This pointing out of shortcomings would do the opposite of injecting positivity into our lives, such as the 21st century's most prominent satirists do in most cases (i.e. Jon Stewart, Seth MacFarlane, Trey Parker, and Matt Stone).

Vonnegut's satire, however, provokes thought. It calls to mind the things about American society that we can change in our day-to-day lives. Things like self-centeredness, inconsideration, and over-consumption are addressed with witty humor in a way that makes you laugh at yourself and think "is this really what someone would describe to someone who had never been to America?"

These sort of wake-up calls are necessary to get us going, but to also make light of some serious matters that could easily bring us down. There's a blurred line between negative and positive satire, but Vonnegut does a good job of erring on the positive, whether he intended to or not.

Competitive Sports

Anyone that knows me knows that my two favorite things are sports and music. Since moving to Tacoma from Pittsburgh, I've had the opportunity to play a LOT more music, but a LOT less sports. I won't complain much since the music half has been a great opportunity, but this weekend I finally got to catch a rhythm with my competitive side.

The One Awesome Thing from this weekend was competitive sports. I'd specify one, but there were a few examples to note. On Friday, a pair of co-workers and I played some basketball at lunchtime, which is great for the summer because we've got a nice dry outdoor court and a lighter schedule allowing for a little extra lunchtime bonding. We decided to make this a weekly game on Fridays and to try to move forward organizing a game against a team of students. Basketball has always been my favorite sport, so I'm excited to play more often.

Saturday and Sunday continued my pursuit of tennis with Aly. It was the second and third time we'd played, but we noticed a LOT of improvement! Aly's roommate, Andie, joined us on Saturday, which was great because the extra person could retrieve balls and get a break while the other two played. Aly still has my number as I haven't beaten her in a set yet. My day will come, though!

Finally, Sunday morning I got to put on a glove and do some fielding for the first time in a while. Some folks from church have put together a softball team for an adult league and had a practice on Sunday. I cannot play on the team because I'm not free on the nights they play, but it felt great to get out and run, catch, and hit for the first time in several years. I'm hoping to be able to play in future years because I love the excitement, strategy, and drama of softball/baseball. As effortless as professional players make it look, baseball is a game of constant movement and strategy. If someone is out of position for a relay throw or to cover a base, it could mean a run or a rally for the offense.

That's it for now! Thankfully I got to get some of my own competitive energy out as the Pirates blew a 3-game series with the Cubs this weekend.

4th of July

To cut right to the point, my mid-year resolution is similar to my new year's resolution; to be more positive. So, I'm starting now with a series of blogs that I hope carry on for a while. I want to write about one awesome thing I experience every day.

It's a day late, but yesterday's awesome thing was so rad that it needs to be shared!

Yesterday, I spent the day celebrating the 4th of July with friends. My roommate from college, Josh, moved to Seattle a few weeks ago, giving us a chance to spend time together for the first time in about 5 years. Josh moved here for a job at Amazon, so we spent the afternoon on the roof of their temporary apartment building overlooking Lake Union. The view and friends were great, but not quite the awesome thing I was talking about.

Next, I went to Bellevue to spend time with my favorite gal, Aly, and some of her friends. We went to the Bellevue Family Fourth, had some free food courtesy of Aly's friend, Augusta, who was working the event, and enjoyed a cover band (no seriously, it was enjoyable). That was nice, but not the best part.

The best part was this; Aly and I left around 9:45; a bit before the fireworks were starting. We hit I-5 south en route to Tacoma in good time with basically no traffic. Again, pretty cool, but not awesome. The awesome part was the fireworks. After we started driving a few minutes, we caught a few glimpses of fireworks; pretty natural given the occasion. As we kept driving, though, we kept seeing fireworks. Right in front of us, too! The WHOLE way down I-5, nonetheless! We caught fireworks being shot off from every town all the way down to Tacoma. Somehow, our timing to get home early enough to wake up for work the next day gave us the opportunity to see fireworks all the way home completely unplanned. What an awesome way to finish a brilliant day off.

Society, Have Mercy on Me

Being honest and open has always been a trait of mine. Maybe honesty and openness is a nice way of saying I don't think before I speak, but I'm okay with that. It really is part of who I am. I think ahead enough to not get myself in loads of trouble, so I'll keep going with what has worked so far.

Anxiety has been a theme in my life lately, but not for reasons you'd generally expect. Some of the top causes of anxiety (work-related stress, financial struggles, relationships) are not of too much trouble for me these days thanks to great friends, a great job, and a great girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty happy!

Instead, my anxiety can be linked directly to simply learning how to be an adult in today's society.

When I first arrived in Tacoma, I wanted to get busy and fast. I had not lacked community to that degree in my life and was certainly not used to free nights with no one to call and nothing to do. Without getting into many details, I've certainly filled that time. Between two band practices a week, time spent with Aly, and evenings dedicated to friends from church, I have little free time left (especially when compared to the last chapter of my life in Pittsburgh which was 4 months of funemployment).

With summer has come busy weekends full of fun activities, but still not enough time to do the things I need to do to keep anxiety off my doorstep; mainly relaxation that comes from seclusion.

When my friend, Andy, suggested wanting to leave Nashville to move to a smaller city like Asheville, NC, or Santa Fe, NM, I didn't believe him or think he'd actually do it because, like me, he craves community, energy, and activity. The more I think about it, the more I realize how nice it might be to actually live in a place with less people, less opinions, and less of society. Places like Nashville and Seattle can be overwhelming with the desire for people to share their opinions (myself, the blogger, included, for goodness sake).

This coffee is better than that coffee because of this flavor that you and I have different opinions about.

This band is better than that band because of this objective opinion I have about what makes a band good.

This beer is better than that beer because that brewery is trying too hard or is available in too many places.

In short, society is wearing me down. I care too much about what other people think, which is a problem most of us have in this what-are-you-listening-to-on-Spotify world we inhabit. I wear the same jeans and shirt every day; lay off!

What I'm learning is that instead of craving the action of the city, maybe all I want is a porch, a cheap beer, and a Buccos game on the radio. That life that Christopher McCandless was pursuing in Into the Wild becomes enviable from time-to-time. I doubt I'll be lighting my car or money on fire any time soon, but there's something to be said for keeping a few important people close and the less-important people at an arm's length.

I don't expect any On the Road sort of experiences any time soon, but a day trip to Portland should help and  also the thought that if I want my next job to eventually be in Seattle or Missoula, MT, those options both exist. Right now, I'm leaning towards Montana.

(Sports) Seasonal Homesickness

For context, you need to know just a few simple things about me. First, I grew up outside the city of Pittsburgh and, therefore, bleed black and gold. Second, I moved to Tacoma, WA, 20 months ago in September 2011. I've experienced a good bit of homesickness from time-to-time which grows and fades and has been less severe each time it creeps around. Lately, for you statistics nerds, I've realized a positive and direct correlation that explains the cyclical nature of my homesickness. I'll call it SSH, or, Sports Seasonal Homesickness.

This concept may make sense to some and make no sense to others. If you're a sports fan, you know what I'm talking about. I mean a REAL sports fan. One that reads articles in your local paper after games, follows your team's beat writers on Twitter, and watches every game you're capable of watching. Folks from cities like Chicago, Philadelphia, or Boston might know a lot about what I'm talking about.

I have gotten to the point where I can predict when my depression will set in each year. Late December through early February, most of March through early April, early May through early June, and mid-September, or, NFL playoffs, March Madness, MLB Opening Day, NHL playoffs, and the start of NFL/NCAA football season. Thankfully (kinda), the Pirates have never given me much to care about aside from the start of the season, so October is sorta safe.

There's no way around it. It's a simple formula that I am 2500 miles away from the center of my sports fandom. People in the northwest simply don't care about sports as much as the east coast or midwest and that's okay. It stinks, but it's okay. It makes it hard for me to really get into the teams I've followed forever because I don't have as many folks to talk to about the Penguins, Pirates, or Steelers. They like other things and that's cool. I don't love hiking (yet) or dogs (ever) or climbing stuff (dangerous), but I knew that was the culture coming into this chapter of my life. 

The homesickness doesn't come from the teams as much as you'd think, although I do love a good walk down memory lane with Soixante-Six. No, it's the memories tied to them that really hit me. 

With the Penguins, the memories are abundant. Walking into Police Station Pizza on Friday nights with my dad to see the Pens game on a 19-inch color TV sitting on top of the Coca-Cola fridge for the cooks to watch. Recording portions of TV or radio broadcasts on cassette tapes so I can listen again the next day while mom carted me around running errands. Creating our own wooden shooter-tutor for my hockey net so I could re-enact games from the night before. As an adult, creating lifelong friendships over games at the Otto or Redfield residences, remembering that we don't talk during play unless it's to instruct ("PINCH!"). Vowing never to eat Mrs. Malkin's red borscht without beets again because it jinxed a Stanley Cup game against the Red Wings. Drinking nothing but Pabst Blue Ribbon during Game 7 of the Stanley Cup because that was my good luck charm.

For the Pirates, so many memories of trips to see the worst team in baseball for about 40% of my joyrides in my first 2 years of driving. Joking about the oft-forgotten pieces to the longest seasonal losing streak in pro sports history (20 years), such as Jermaine Allensworth, Francisco Cordova, or, my personal favorite, Rob Mackowiak. Playing wiffleball in my backyard with my closest friends picking different eras of Pirates teams to be (with 1992, of course, being the most popular). Spending most summer evenings with the game on the radio or the TV for the last 20 (losing) seasons.

The Steelers are the biggest unifier. My mother does not watch sports, but she surely knows if the Steelers won or lost each week thanks to the mood of my father. Watching games with my dad at Grandma's house. Watching playoff games with friends in high school and putting our jerseys over our faces for each field goal attempt. Yelling obscenities at Ike Taylor. The list goes on.

It doesn't stop there, either. Pitt sports have been a staple in my life the whole time, as well. Going to games at old Pitt stadium after I'd go play video games or mess around with AutoCAD while dad worked overtime at his engineering job. Choosing games against crappy teams like Rutgers or Temple because we knew there'd be tickets available and Pitt might actually win. Shooting hoops in our driveway with my friends to let off steam after Pitt would lose tough games. The good years in the early 2000s when the unthinkable happened and bowl games and March Madness became staples year-in and year-out. Tyler Palko. Larry Fitzgerald. The list goes on again. (re: It's Tough Being a Pitt Fan).

Needless to say, these memories and feelings creep up when each season reaches their pivotal points. I've spent the last 2 years searching for anywhere to watch games at bars or online. Subscribing to MLB.TV because I couldn't imagine a summer without Pirates baseball. Finding a Steelers bar where I could watch games with people who aren't still bitter about a pathetic Super Bowl with the local team. Finally moving into a house (with Canadians, no less) that has cable where I can watch the Penguins. These are necessary evils to maintain sanity in these times of depression.

There's really no way to alleviate this depression. It's something I'll have to live with forever. WebMD says there's no cure aside from moving home, which I don't have any plans to do any time soon. God says I can't go back yet. Thomas Wolfe says you can't go home again, but I don't trust him any further than I can throw him (which probably isn't far because dead bodies are heavy, I hear).

So, every once in a while I'm going to be sad. I'm going to miss entire Saturdays and Sundays spent on the Redfields' couch watching games. I'll miss the assumed case of Yuengling sitting in Jordan's fridge when the Pirates are on 90% of summer nights. I'll miss the no-nonsense attitude of Pittsburgh sports fans and their hate of everything Philadelphia. Until the Lord calls me home (Pittsburgh, not heaven, although they may not be mutually exclusive), I will do whatever it takes to create a pocket of my life for the black and gold (or blue and gold) to give my sanity some relief every January, March, June, September, and each month in between.

It's not just sports. It's the only life I've known.

Let's go Pens.

Let's go Bucs.

Here we go Steelers.

Hail to Pitt.

Being Who We Were Created To Be

I'm not going to lie, friends. Life has been a struggle the last month or so. I'm at a constant internal conflict over so many things and rarely feel like I get a chance to let it all hang out. There was a time in my life when I was an open book; saying the things I thought without much restraint and doing whatever felt right at the time without much thought. Following my emotions got me into some good situations (packing my car and moving to Washington) and into some difficult situations (packing my car and moving to Washington).

To be frank, I've lost my edge and kept my mouth shut far too much as I've settled into the passive Washington state of mind and it's driving me nuts. I haven't verbally processed things much because I am so tired at the end of the day that I don't want to talk about anything of significance with anyone. Besides, how am I supposed to tell my community that I feel like I'm lacking community or my girlfriend from Washington about the things I don't like about Washington without feeling like some judgmental self-righteous know-it-all prick? I don't know. Maybe there's no way.

Here's the thing, though: these things are true. I miss the community I had in Pittsburgh (where I spent the first 26 years of my life, of course) and there are plenty of things that annoy me about Washington (balanced with cool things like the current immaculate weather and general presence of bodies of water).

I've been a verbal processor all my life and need to embrace who I am. I talk when I think. I have opinions and like to share them. Sometimes I'm right and sometimes I'm wrong. It's who I've been made to be.

When I first moved here, the first thing I made sure people knew about me is that I'm from Pittsburgh. I bleed black and gold and always will. It probably annoyed people how much I talked about Pittsburgh; what life was like there, how we did things, how great the Steelers/Pirates/Penguins are. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. It's who I am and always will be.

A few months ago, a friend of mine pointed out something incredibly significant in my life. We were talking about how people in Biblical times worshiped idols, how we still do that today, and how those idols tend to be our identity instead of Jesus. When talking about what it was that we identified with instead of Jesus, I jokingly/seriously said Pittsburgh. My friend Ashley pointed out a few weeks later in another conversation that Pittsburgh definitely is an idol for me. 

It's the gold standard of what a place could be in my eyes. The ethnic communities founded by Italians, Germans, Irish, etc. The unified black and gold colors of every team. The healthy balance of a low cost of living with a big city arts scene. The way that small ideas like the Saxifrage School (which I spent a few months helping to plan) can get big-time recognition in the Wall Street Journal (as well as the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette; recognize the skyline in that Death Cab shirt on the left?). 

I've kept my eyes on Pittsburgh instead of Jesus when choosing how to do anything in my life. Instead of focusing on the community around me in Tacoma, I'd always think about the community in Pittsburgh that I left behind. 

For the last few months since that conversation, I've shifted. I've been living more in the world around me and investing in the community I have here. Here's the problem, though: Pittsburgh is still and always will be who I am. The decisions I make, the way I see the world, how I interact with people; it's all Pittsburgh. No matter where I am, I'll always be a yinzer. I'll always want to watch a Steelers game instead of going to church. I'll always pine for Yuengling no matter what amazing craft beers are nearby. I will always seek hard-nosed, genuine people and music who don't give a shit about holding back who they are for any reason.

I've been slipping slowly into the lukewarm passivity of the northwest as a result of not being true to myself. While I don't find any fault or problem in addressing the fact that Pittsburgh has been an idol of mine, I'm learning that it's also important to not remove it from my identity. I owe it to the city that raised me.

So what does this mean for my life and the Kingdom of God? Hopefully it means going back to being a genuine, outspoken, community-focused individual. When I lived in Pittsburgh, I was always the person rallying people together for parties and gatherings. While I don't have a killer back deck for these gatherings anymore, that doesn't mean I can't still be a party-starter. Bringing people together has always been a gift of mine and I'm doing the Kingdom a disservice by keeping to myself.

It means going back to being the dry, witty, sarcastic individual who's hard to read if you're not familiar with me. I'd be sorry for being this way, but I'm not sorry. I used to make people laugh. Sometimes at other people's or my own expense. Worrying so much about my own image or the over-sensitivity of others has never been much of a concern until I moved here, so it's time to go back to my old ways. It's who I was made to be.

Friends

That smile that overcomes your face when you see someone you know in a place you don't expect. It's such a simple thing, but we all experience it. I just watched a friend find a friend in a local coffeeshop and, whether it was expected or not, it seemed like such a pleasant encounter, no matter how simple. We inherently want and need human interaction. Friends. Love. Happiness. They all go together.