Humanist as Human does

In the last few years, I have begun to think of myself as a Humanist. This is due largely to Kurt Vonnegut. His outlook on life often makes so much sense to me and things that he wrote in "Mother Night" and "Slaughterhouse Five" ring true to this day. When I read that he was a Humanist, I thought maybe I was one as well.

Humanist: an outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

More and more I have come to realize that I don't like humans enough to be a Humanist. For example, on the train today I actually felt loathing for a person, sitting two seats behind me, chomping on her gum. It was loud enough to hear over the rattle of the train, the conversations of my fellow passengers, and the music leaking out from the headphones of someone sitting nearby. I didn't even see her face until I got up to leave the train and yet, I hated her. I guess I believe in her "potential value", if she would just chew with her mouth closed!

Is it possible to be a selective Humanist? I love my friends and family, I certainly believe in human potential and the necessity to aid my fellow (wo)man, but when faced with the masses, I cringe. I need personal space and abhor a crowd.

I think I was always like this. It may even stem from the Sha Na Na concert my parents took me to for We Love Erie Days back in the 80's. That was the first time I ever saw a punk, and the first time I was ever confronted with a phalanx of large womens' rear ends. Ironically (or perhaps not) in this situation it was the punks who were kind and the women who would crowd out a little girl at her first concert

I guess I really just have to respect a true Humanist; a person who genuinely likes people and wants to spend time in their presence. Give me a good book or a good pet any day of the week over the huddled masses. I'll stay in while the Cub's fans roam the streets; I'll keep to the right in the hope of avoiding a collision and I'll quietly seethe to the arhythmic mastications of the gum chewer two rows back.