Humor As Tonic aka Self-Actualization 101

     In the subway a couple of nights ago - I was pondering an epiphany and wanted to write a note at once.  I was nibbling my ball-point and gazing off into space, deep in choosing adjectives and ruminating on run-on sentences.
     I became aware of a young couple, he (Nat 'King' Cole lookalike fitness purveyor, embossed red leather jacket), she (60's Nudist Lifestyle, peroxided French Braid).  I began to understand I must have stared right at or through her in my brown study.  She'd informed him of my supposed "interest" which was why they kept craning, staring, glancing at each other and laughing.
     It appeared they thought I was leering at her; all I thought was I'd looked vaguely at them once or twice .  I was caught up in grammatical deliberations and perhaps they perceived me as a weirdo from 999 Queen West (the old asylum from where they turfed all the resident loons) now CAM-H {Center for Addictions and Mental Health) or a lecherous middle-aged brown man, muttering to himself.  Either way, I was suspect.
     The thought flashed across my brain-pan to stop looking or say something..  That thought got lost in further scribbling.  The next time I roused myself from my catharsis, the couple were gone, I'd missed my stop and the train was arriving at Jane Station. I removed myself from the train forthwith and began strolling back.
     There, on cold dark Bloor St. West and all at once, I wanted to shout as if they could hear me, "See! See! I really was involved with my writing!  I wasn't looking at Barbie!"  I amused myself so much I chuckled all the way home.  My closing thought for this was, "Here we go again!  As usual, Sa'ad thinks it's all about him!"
     Even more humorous and startling was the notion that in some intrinsic way this really IS all about me.  I should believe in myself enough to treat myself gently and not put myself down.  Not necessarily about those gym-bunnies, but in general, and in some permanent way.