I’ve been told that I’m hard to read, that maybe I carry my emotions too deep. But at the same time I remember once, back in grade 11, a friend of mine saying that she had driven past me while I was dancing my way to school. Apparently, put some headphones on me and play a peppy tune and I’ll let loose no matter who’s driving by.
Well, maybe that isn’t a guarantee, but it’s not unheard of. I’m quite sure anybody who happened to see me walking down Broadway to the tune of Turkey Lurkey would have seen a similar sight.
I’ve actually taken up the habit of singing along to my tunes, too. My favourite songs always tend to be those with good melodies, good lyrics, and good to perform. It’s no wonder that my notPod is filled with songs whose lyrics I can muddle along with quite well, and enjoy at the very least humming along with.
I try to catch myself at it, though. I always stop whenever I think somebody might be within earshot, or at least take out the vocals and keep it to a murmur if the street’s busy enough to mask it. But I’ve been noticing that my safety zone is shrinking. Months ago, a tiny dot of a person three blocks away would have been enough for me to snap back to reality. Now, it’s more like when I can see the whites of their eyes. And if I can’t see them, clearly they can’t hear me.
I haven’t gotten any funny looks yet, but I’m pretty sure this is a sign that I’m going to grow up to be one of those crazies on the metro talking (or singing) to himself, iPod or not.