So, as I walked into the library today, I immediately wandered over to my favorite corner. It's a nice corner, usually fairly quiet and has a chair. Here, I can read some Kerouac and sip on coffee, and be alone for an hour or so. But today, as I was wondering over to my magical corner of the world, I noticed a man who appeared to be homeless. He looked sort of like a misplaced cowboy, with a long coat, a belt around the middle. A worn brown baseball hat, and old looking army boots, laced, and tied at the top. His dirty khakis, tightened around his calves with either rubber bands or shoe laces about to break. This man was sort of shocking to me. I seem to forget that poverty actually exists. I often feel broke, as though I'm a prime example of being in poverty. Then, I realize that my lines of thinking aren't correct. I have a roof over my head, and space for a beagle. I can afford a dog, and the occasional new pair of jeans. I've got a job. Two jobs. And I can shower. I'll be out of debt soon, and I hope to go back to college soon. Anyway, next time you think it sucks, find a homeless person. I often consider the notion that sometimes, a person might chose to be homeless. Maybe they're travelers and hate to be tied down by the "comforts" of life. Maybe they're exploring life. Maybe a person is really wealthy, but doesn't want to buy a house or live in one. But then I reconsider. Maybe a person really has had a tough life and cannot re-find their feet. It can be hard; they might have been victims of domestic violence. They might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or made one bad choice that led down a path of perpetual consequence. Who knows. The world is sort of a weird place...