And to us, people with real shit to worry about, they look absolutely ridiculous stomping around and puffing out their chests over a three inch square of sidewalk that happens to have a half-eaten bagel on it. They're pigeons, for god's sake. Who cares?
But I feel like on a larger scale, that's all of us. We've all got our niches, our little jobs and lives and interestes we carve out and stake as our own. We nurture them. We become enthusiasts, maybe even experts. It becomes our life's work. It becomes the thing that is most rewarding for us to do.
And yet, to the next guy on the street, you're just a puffed up pigeon going on about some ridiculous bullshit he couldn't care less about.