A story about my winter coat.
So it's mid April here in Toronto and I'm still wearing my winter coat. This isn't all that unusual for the time of year, but you do get tired of it. Slowly the temperature is rising, and hopefully by the end of the month I will have officially switched to my leather jacket.
The switch is important to me because it means the weather will be warmer. It will also mean that I will have fewer embarrassing moments which I am afraid I must blame entirely on my winter coat. Specifically its hood.
My ears are very sensitive (ah what a delicate soul I am), even in above freezing temperatures they can get so cold so as to give me ear aches. So I wear the hood of my coat up often. I prefer the hood because not only does it block the cold from blowing in at many different angles, it keeps my hair from getting messy unlike a hat.
But. It is also the source of great humiliation for me. You see, I have no peripheral vision in the hood. I have to be extra vigilant when crossing the street etc. But when walking along a sidewalk where it doesn't matter what's to my sides as much, I tend to forget I can't see around me.
And see here's the issue.
I like to sing. A lot. It makes me happy. And I've been taking singing lessons for years and I am very excited how much my ability has improved. When I think no one's looking I go all musical theatre on the world, and will totally belt any and every showtune loudly in public.
Problem is, with this hood of mine, I don't always realise that I'm not as alone as I think I am. Several times this week I have been singing, again, loudly, only to discover that following almost directly beside me is another individual most clearly within earshot. This being Toronto, as well as being a big city in Canada, they never say anything. People in Toronto are used to strange people talking to themselves etc, and being Canadian are also too polite to stare.
Let me reiterate. I sing loudly. I mean, as if I was on stage. There's no way to pretend I wasn't just singing, or that I am cutely singing to myself. Oddly though, I stop right away and try to anyway, but I always feel ridiculous.
I feel the heat rush to my face, I quickly walk away from that person, and get mad at myself for getting caught.
It's really quite embarrassing.
And then two seconds later, I start singing again.
There's not much point to this story. Nothing that is really analogous to writing or acting. I suppose if I was to make it meaningful I could say something about making yourself vulnerable doing something you love, being true to yourself. Even though at times you may feel really dumb, or people may judge you, it's more important to sing loudly in the street than to walk quietly, head lowered, afraid to be yourself. Maybe I'll even take this lesson myself and apply it when I switch up jackets, and sing proudly still as if I was wearing my hood.
Actually, that's pretty good. But it wasn't the reason for telling the story.
I just wanted to tell the story.