Something for consideration is that a mass is a strange thing—everyday waking up for class I get on the bus. It’s always crowded when I’m rushing, but if I give myself some time, it’s normally not so bad. I’ll get to the station and the train’s doors open and pack with a load of eager people. If I time it correctly, I always get my favorite seat. I notice, that we are all squished in the most economical and sufficient means. Unconscious Marxist thoughts taking operant effect, the divergent ones noticeably-toxic, capable of destroying our system with something that just won’t produce what our great history is capable of. Somehow we instinctively mortar ourselves together into this imaginative creation. That’s just what you go through as a Bostonian such as myself, being in Massachusetts if you’re around enough, you’ll even get the groove of the T. Being molded together like bricks mortared in a wall is sort of comforting. This is my daily routine.

—I mean it had to just appear. The first origin of the word is used for the roman catholic mass in an undated Old English mæssan (oed.com) however the use is practically expressing a mass of objects, it just happens to be people in pews. It makes me wonder why the origins of physical mass are separated to a later, Middle English period, still taken from the bible. Regardless, the idea of using mass to explain “The concept of amount is very old and predates recorded history.” (Wikipedia) occurred naturally with the bible, however the evolution of the theory of physical mass has developed quite a lot. The idea “In physics, mass is a property of a physical body. It is generally a measure of an object’s resistance to changing its state of motion when a force is applied.” Has been added to by great names like Newton and Einstein to let us understand it today, as the word Mass that has evolved from early old English.

“Massachusetts is a New England state known for its significant Colonial history. In Boston, its capital, the Freedom Trail is a walking route of sites related to the American Revolution. The city is home to the Museum of Fine Arts and other world-class institutions. Its Red Sox baseball team plays at Fenway Park, and the Public Garden is known for its swan boats.” (Google search ‘mass’) It’s funny that the first colony was named as it is, very fitting, can’t be coincidental. I mean somewhere had to be home to Boston, and my great town of Belmont. Anyways, enough of Mass. The entire point of explaining mass is to shed light on my understanding of the word. It took exposure to the research and a few days to come to understand it for myself, and I do mean to allude to Jørgen Leth’s famous Perfect Human quote when I say, “I experienced something I hope to understand in a few days”.

And what is it for? I can’t really say. We hear things. In a mass of people. Sometimes sing. But other than that we don’t seem to have the history of it readily available. I suppose as soon as Catholicism appeared, mass did. It’s the common assumption, taken from a prehistoric concept, used for who knows what.

I’m a pretty simple guy, I just had one serious relationship. It ended with a few fights and as Taylor Swift might say bad blood, but hey, sometimes we all fall down that bottomless pit. I realized I saw something that made me think I could fly. I was wrong. It was definitely a hole. Maybe it took me a year and getting a luxurious Apple Watch to see the hole, but the watch before definitely helped lead me to the hole. I mean, I only got it because the relationship ended a few days before my birthday, but I still got the present sent to me. It was a Citizen watch, and it couldn’t have been much later, maybe even the same day, I found out that the Apple Watch was releasing in exactly a year. Thus I decided divine beings were calling me to the life of an Apple Watch, so I got it, regardless of the excessive costs, on release, on my birthday the next year.

All I know is it will always come around, here and there. It’s life, our daily routine. And you know what? Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if I wasn’t so lonely. I’ve been using public transportation my entire lifetime. When I was young and until middle school, my mother, who was a single mother, had no car. We’d walk to the grocery store and when it came time to see the relatives or bring your kids to work day, we’d take the T. Those times I really enjoyed it. I remember looking down at the train tracks on the T waiting for the train, and being afraid of falling down. It would be my doom, somehow, if I got to close to the tracks. I’d fall down and never get back up. You know?

Maybe there was something nice about the T some time ago. I wasn’t thinking about the nasty germs on it or the people that squeeze around driving me crazy now, I enjoyed the terror of almost falling. Seeing the faces that decided to travel the T, the stations that came out of the dark tunnel and into the light. Maybe it was actually nice some time ago and I wasn’t always afraid of it as a kid.

People would give up their seat to my little cute face! Then I got older and it sort of stopped. Everyone stopped talking with each other, stopped staring at faces, making eye contact. Except one time in my second year at Umass Boston. I was coming home and a fellow on the bus chose to sit right next to me. Even though many other seats were available. I paid no mind until he talked to me. Startled and aggravated that he boxed me in with seats available, I scuffle my words. I was a little stoned, but by the time our stop came, which we coincidentally shared, we got off on a good note. Walking down the same street to our homes, he invited me to visit his church the following Sunday. I declined on the spot, but I gave him my name and he found me on Facebook that night extending the invitation. I decided to accept it and visit his church. Not because I was convinced of the religion or anything, little did I know it would be the faith of the Latter Day Saints, but that was probably the most personal moment I’d ever had with a stranger on the T. Looking back, it takes me to when I was younger, when people still cared. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t’ thinking about being squished economically or any of that, or maybe it was just a strange coincidence. Regardless, it was a moment in time isolated in memory. My childhood had not vanished with the years, it was still there, remaining in an obscure luck of fate. Mass it’s a strange thing, the universe will never lose any of it. All of it is preserved, regardless of the destructions and faults of our world that are due to disappear.