Have My Cake and Eat It Too

Earlier today I overheard a conversation between two “round” girls eager to outdo one another in bragging about how little they need to feel satiated and how much they love working out. I was naturally very jealous, as I was hungry enough to eat a horse and certainly had no intentions to exercise.

“You know the crackers that come with the soup?” asked the obese one rhetorically, as she turned to her friend, her fat shifting positions, pinched by her pants. “I can never have them with my soup. I just can’t eat that much.” (wow, lucky bitch, I can eat my soup, my crackers, and your sandwich)

“Oh yeah,” answered her moderately overweight friend. “I rarely eat them. Maybe as a snack, later in the day.”

Pause; they both reach into their respective Doritos bags and shove a handful of orange deliciousness in their cavernous mouths.

“Yeah…” continues her friend, clearly exhausted by managing multiple activities (eating, breathing and speaking). “I was supposed to run this morning, but it was cold. I usually run 5 times a week.”

“Me too. I run at least 6, usually 7.”

God willing I can lose a few pounds and gain a fraction of their self-esteem.

Music to My Ears

I am not exactly sure why, but the sight of street musicians always breaks my heart. Whenever I see a mediocre immigrant violinist playing a familiar tune, I imagine how he must have been an accomplished musician back in his native land and now he is forced to stand on this busy subway platform, interrupted by the loud trains pulling in and out of the station and tuned out by the thousands of commuters. Perhaps that is why I find myself completely in awe at the New York Philharmonic. It doesn’t matter that I am not well-versed in music… where else can you see such an impressive group of accomplished musicians. Each one of the orchestra members has dedicated his entire life to music, and each one made it…they are all here, playing Rachmaninoff… for you.

My most entertaining commuting experiences involve musicians. The most delightful was an amateur guitarist, who advised the passengers that for $20 upfront, he won’t violate their ears. Everyone giggled at the proposal, but no one was willing to pay, so for the next two stations we endured the performance. I even didn’t mind the Korean Students Bible club playing kumbaya and blocking the entrance to the school. They gave me a candy bar for clapping along.

Last week I saw something that made me think that perhaps, in spite of the devastating economic conditions and a terrifying political climate, we, Americans, stand strong. The floor-to-ceiling windows of a sports club revealed a few dozen treadmill and elliptical machine enthusiasts, sweating away as a live band carried on a jazz melody. Is there a more obnoxious way to display wealth and disrespect for music? Oh Lord…kum ba ya.