Orlando Does Not Have a Subway

Duh. Okay-- I miss New York. Some times more than others. Some times more desperately than others. But one thing continues to frustrate me one year into my life in Orlando. One thing remain elusive in my new life. One things I can't seem to squeeze into my strikingly less fabulous and far less busy life in the burbs...Music!

Music moves. It moves the heart, the soul, the brain, the body. Music helped me breathe, it nourished the manic moods that ultimately drove me from the city, but that brought passion to life. Music walked 61 blocks home from work on a breezy spring evening. Music kept me awake on the subway at midnight when I should have taken a cab. Music urged me on, through the third load of whites at the laundromat. Music relaxed me while I sunned in the Central Park grass. It sounds crazy, but it connected me to my own life.

There seemed so much more time for music. But it's the subway and music- that dynamic combination- that I often miss so much. I do, I miss the subway, rats and all. It's where I watched people, listened intently to the song of the moment, and read the news and Harry Potter. I have not found that profound connection with my hand-me-down Jeep Cherokee and my life is a little less full. Gonna have to work on that.

Maybe I'm a little less moody with a little less music in my life. But I also think that I'm a little less me.