Life As Performance Art 71

What if people all knew each other better? I mean, well enough so that we could understand other people's usually dumb behaviour in public places, and so that they could understand better our own dumb behaviour, and maybe that would help us be a bit kinder. Or maybe not. I have turned into a bit of a public menace over the years. Having lost almost all fear of people, if not absolutely all of it, I tend to be quite bold, insouciant, and sometimes downright obnoxious. I try not to be obnoxious, most of the time, anyway, but instead employ humour wherever I can. But humour can easily backfire. Especially when you don't really know your audience. But this isn't as though they actually are my audience, because I am not a performer, neither do I harbour delusions of celebrity. I don't even play air guitar or air conduct in the privacy of my home. I do often sing. Sometimes loud. And often while walking alone and quietly in near deserted neighbourhoods. But I am not singing to entertain others, and I'm not interested in drawing attention to myself, though I still try to sing my very best. I am singing for God and to God, and they are hymns about his loving grace. And if other people passing by should happen to hear me, I really try not to care. But in other circumstances, while out on a crowded sidewalk, it's all a matter of navigation and negotiating the crowds, and this sometimes can be tricky, especially with young boneheads careening through the crowds on their mountain bikes or skateboards. One can only hope that natural selection will do its very quick work on such sad wastes of DNA. On the other hand, if I knew some of those challenged folk who like to plough through crowds on sidewalks on their mountain bikes or skateboards, would I still think of them as sad wastes of DNA? Probably not, or I would simply think of them as sad. Which leaves me to wonder what strangers must think of me during some of the many chance or random encounters we are going to have on the pavement. Yesterday, for instance, I was walking along South Granville and suddenly the entire sidewalk was obstructed by a huge group of privileged white folk. Some were private school girls in uniform, and I figure that one of the elite private schools in the area was celebrating its graduation ceremonies at the Stanley Theatre, in front of which said girls and their very well dressed parents and other relations were obstructing the sidewalk. (Some were eating cake.) Pedestrians, in order to get past them, were walking on the road and having to risk getting run over, since this is Granville we are talking about. I was not going to give a pass to a bunch of privileged white girls and their wealthy relatives. I waded my way into the crowd, and when it became impossible to go further, in a loud and cheery voice with a bright friendly smile, I announced "Sharing the sidewalk builds character". People moved out of my way. Some even laughed. So far so good. What would some of those people think of me if they knew a bit about my life? Artist. Writer. Trauma survivor. Person of questionable sexuality. Low income contract worker. Mental health peer support worker. Traveller. Fluent in Spanish. Christian who attends an Anglican church. Leap Year birthday. Synesthesia (I see numbers and letters as distinct colours). Living in low cost social housing. Child abuse survivor. Knowing those things about me, how would this inform other people's reactions and impressions. And really, does it matter, Gentle Reader? I think that if we try to treat others with kindness and respect (and a little bit of fun), that should give them enough of an idea of the kind of person they are dealing with. Everything else is byproduct.