"Oh the humanity"

On to the art of hanging out.....

I decided to take some time out of my busy schedule to see how hang out was being defined on the web.                            From Merriam-Webster.com:

12: to pass time idly or in relaxing or socializing <hanging at the beach> —often used with around or out <hung out with friends>


So negative Merriam.  I guess hanging out can certainly be idle but I would prefer non-judgmental language on how people choose to spend their time.  From oxforddictionaries.com:

3 informal spend time relaxing or enjoying oneself:

musicians hang out with their own kind
All this dictionary scouring made me start to think of the phrase "hang out" and its varying contexts.  From an endearing activity, "We hung out on the porch all night, it was so nice" to an activity to be disdained, "I hate those dudes! All they do is hang out on the porch".  As a life assessment, "I have done nothing with the last ten years of my life except hang out" to the grass is always greener, "All I do is work now, I wish I could just hang out".  To relationship status, "No, we're not dating.  We just hang out". Which can mean so many things depending on what is actually hanging out.  Oh! And as a noun. But I think that time has passed, how often do you hear people refer to a place as a hang out? Maybe in some old movies.

Bed-Stuy at sunset.

Relaxing and enjoying your time indeed.  For the purposes of this blog we will roll with the Oxford definition.  I like to hang out because I like people. I get most my joy from the most mundane of activities but perhaps the most intense of human interaction.  Post office lines, train rides, work. Exposure to varying types of people is like a drug to me, it would have to be or why else would I love New York so very much?  From my golden era of hitch hiking I would often feel a peacefulness, a zen in the various combinations of people I would meet everyday. The christian trucker, the creepy trucker, the cop that would tell you to move it along, the folks at the soup kitchen you decided to dine at, the attendant at the gas station you decided to sleep behind. In those moments I would know we were all just the same, all one. Like Dr Bronner's,  all mother fucking one! SO, the art of hanging out is to maintain that feeling at as much of a standard level as possible.  You should really look at hanging out as a meditative process, not obligatory and not defined.  One giant fucking OM with your friends, with your family, with your neighbor, with your dog, with humanity, with yourself.


*Life Side Note: Today while chilling with some of my employees all non-chalant on Bedford, a young man was shot in broad day light a block away.  It pains me deeply to think of him lying on his back, in pain, staring up to the sky and bleeding profusely.  This evening I went to a community meeting and found out that the shot was indeed fatal.  Today started off such a gem.  I even got to hang out on the stoop for a moment with one of the best and cutest humans on the planet - Marcel, my land lady's husband.  I was teasing him about his retirement, "You got the life Marcel!".  He chuckled and leaned towards me and said, "Gloria, some people, they get to their death bed and they start fightin'  ya know?  Life is meant to be enjoyed."  Life is meant to be enjoyed!