It's the end of the week, and I'm tired. I've been out late for several nights in a row. I'm behind on a long list of projects at home and for work. I'm impatient to get my latest CD finished, but I don't want to spend any more money on it.
And I'm missing our car.
When we finally retired our little Honda Civic a few weeks ago, I tried to put a positive spin on it. I've been walking more--a LOT more--and I've been riding the subway much more frequently. We joined AutoShare, Toronto's innovative and economical car sharing network.
Although we've been managing as well as can be expected, I'm feeling a lot less efficient. It's taking me longer to get things done. I'm tapping my feet in impatience as I wait on trains. Public transit doesn't feel like a positive choice at the moment, it feels like an uncomfortable chore.
Meanwhile, I'm passing subway buskers.
Routinely, I listen for them as I get off the train at a station where I know there is a designated performance area. By chance, the musicians I've been encountering lately have not been my personal "favourites". The music they play isn't to my taste or isn't something I appreciate. I find myself evaluating them negatively and comparing myself to them, especially if their licence number (and therefore their status on the subway musicians' ladder...yes, there's a ladder even here) is inexplicably higher than mine.
Not feeling at all generous, I'm withholding my coin.
I'm darting past them as quickly as possible, not meeting their eyes or being encouraging. I do glance at their guitar case (accordion box) to see how well they're doing (ie. how well I'm not, because they're in the spot and not me). My thoughts lean toward comparisons and complaints. I don't feel connected to the other musicians...in fact, I want to distance myself from them.
At sundown tonight, after my last errand of the day, I decide to walk home.
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