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The beauty of humanity sparkles like a ray of sunshine across the lake. It is like being at the aquarium and admiring all the pretty colors and variety of fish and watching them swim round each other in a complete state of harmony. Think about that the next you’re walking through Fenway trying to avoid the environmental activists, the homeless begging for change, and the college students finding their way around campus for the first time.

I almost stopped to admire a twenty-something young man with a clipboard in his hand until I realized that this is the universal symbol for I’m going to bug you to sign my petition for something. He used the opener “Do you care about the environment?” I was like Oh, Honey and then I laughed at him right in his face. I had tears streaming down my face as I walked away, shaking my head at the absurdity of the question.

A few days later, walking near the Dunkin Donuts along Commonwealth Ave, another girl, same clipboard, opened our conversation with “Do you care about the environment?” I was like Oh, Honey you’re not even as pretty as he was.

This week also happens to be orientation at Boston University so the streets are clogged with pre-college kids and occasional parents. I don’t remember having such issues with personal style when I was 18. Oh, for sure I used to dress from head to toe in green and dye my hands, face and hair green and go to school like that, but I avoided white cotton draw string sweat shorts as a fashion statement. (Though I did through an unfortunate jean-shorts phase but what can you do?) Still, when I was 18, I tried studiously to dress like every other guy my age. In fact, my senior year of high school, I was at my personal zenith of fashion cool. It’s all been downhill since then.

There’s one homeless guy who sits outside the 7-Eleven begging for change every day. I don’t have that much dedication for any single task; I admire his. Can’t talk to him though. He’s nice to the bros you but can tell he’s all about the chicks. Fortunately, the homeless around here have the freshest, mintiest breath because they all drink mouthwash. So while they may not have showered in 2008 and who knows what kind of “friends” are living in their hair, at least if you have to strike up a conversation, you won’t be overwhelmed by the rotting corpse inside their mouth.

I try to spend a couple days every week soaking in the humanity of my beloved Boston. It’s all whole different dynamic when the Sox are playing at home, but for now, sans Red Sox fans, it’s just me, the college students, the self-righteous humanitarians and a couple dozen guys with absolutely no other home to go to.