Green

INTRODUCTION--MARCH 16, 2013
This is a text-heavy post, so I'm going to try to divide it up under headings to make it easier to digest. 

Hm, there isn't a perfect green font.  Last year's green font seems way greener; I wonder why they got rid of it:

Edit: I just outsmarted technology.  I pasted some green from that post in front of my new green and retyped it touching the pasted part, and that green continued on!

Anyway...

Happy St. Patrick's Day!  Now, "Green" would have been the perfect title for this post if everything had gone according to plan.  In fact, I decided in the car ride to Northampton that it was the title I would assign this post.  It's extremely clever, if I do say so myself, because "green" signifies three things which all have large roles in St. Patrick's day busking when you are sick.  That sentence just spoiled all of them, but I'll explain anyway since I'm not one to be concise.

Three Sources of "Green:"
1.  St. Patrick's Day, of course!  
More on this, but I expected there to be a ton of green in general.

2. Money
Because, since it was St. Patrick's day weekend, I expected to make a lot of money

3. Snot!
Sorry!  I'm coming down with a cold, so I discovered this third meaning of "green" while blowing my nose earlier in the day.

So, as you can see, "Green" would have been the perfect name for this post IF people had been super into St. Patrick's Day; IF I had made tons of money; and IF I had been a brave martyr and kept playing despite being incredibly snotty and ill.

But, instead, I didn't feel that sick, I didn't make a crazy amount of money, and people were apathetic about the holiday.  In the early afternoon, that is.  I'm doing this post all out of order!  Here's the story:

PLANS
I geared myself up for a big weekend when I saw that St. Patrick's day was on a Sunday.  I could busk Saturday, spend the night in Northampton, and busk more on Sunday.  But then, I felt a tickle in my throat Friday morning.  Not to brag or anything, but I worked a lot last week.  In seven days I did one of busking, three nights and one morning of babysitting, two days of substitute teaching, and one afternoon of art-assisting which equals...you got it....forty hours.  I had to wake up before 7:30 AM on three of those days!!!  Oh, the horror!  So, due to the hours, labor, and exposure to children, it was a surprise to no one that I've gotten sick.

And so I made up my mind to skip the weekend of busking entirely.  I would take it easy, stay warm, and work instead on some art projects which I will announce sometime.  But then I saw them....my green, LIGHT-UP, FLASHING, shamrock earrings that I had bought in San Francisco two years ago tomorrow.  They were beckoning to me, and I eyed the world map on the wall with my future destinations circled; destinations that will require money to see (thematic exaggeration).  And so I greened up: the normal outfit but with a green sweater on top, the aforementioned earrings, and a string of emerald mardi gras beads wrapped around each wrist.

MEMORIES
My expectations for pre St. Patrick's day busking were based on past years, when celebration was in the air.  Oddly enough, I don't have a blog post for San Francisco.  I was leaving for Mexico in a week, so I suppose I was busy.  All I could find was this small section of notes in a saved draft:

This did help me remember though: I had a nice green outfit (pre piano dress days) which was complete when I stopped in Walgreens on the way out to busk and bought the legendary flashing shamrock earrings.  I had long-ish red hair then, and I remember getting references to my apparent "Irish heritage" (don't have it) due to my hair color.  As I walked to Valencia St. (as those notes reminded me), I passed an Irish bar on 24th St. headed East, and a middle-aged man who was already inebriated despite the daylight encouraged me to stay and celebrate the holiday there.  But there was work to be done!  I do vaguely remember the Irish vibe, mainly in the form of songs, but also in friendly [drunken?] interactions with revelers, some of whom wore matching flashing shamrock earrings.  After I packed up I went to Amnesia, the gypsy bar, to hear a person I knew and his band play Irish tunes, then I randomly ran into a friend from high school on the streets.  Finished off festivities with my SF friend Cat.  Oh yes, it's all coming back.

In Edinburgh, I indeed had a whole post about the day.  I suppose it was to be expected, since I was closer to Ireland than ever before, although still not quite there.  People come into Edinburgh for partytime, which was most notable in the stag/hen parties that traipsed by me every weekend.  I donned my green sweater, earrings, and braided my long red hair.  The old post says that I improvised Irish songs I used to play and got in one rowdy drunken rendition of "Whiskey in the Jar."  Here are my observations of green outfits in Edinburgh:

"Over the course of the day, I saw some classy green: hats, scarves, green patent leather doc martens. One girl really nailed it down: emerald skinny jeans, white blouse with green flowers. Chic, right shades, not in your face. This was in contrast with the obnoxious stuff, on the mild end green t-shirts that read things like "Kiss me, my friends are Irish!" to the full out huge green leprechaun hats, shamrock tattoos, fake orange beards on women, tiny green skirts, green garter belts, huge green sunglasses, etc." 

So with these fuzzy memories on my mind, I drove the [green] car into Northampton.

REALITY 
What happened was that I got there too early.  I assumed my position around 1:30 pm, which I try to do to ensure that I get my spot, but it's spring break at Smith and it was cold out so I wasn't really in danger of not getting my spot.  It was too late, though, for the early shoppers/farmers' market crowd, and even for lunch-goers.  It was actually surprisingly quiet in town.  I later learned that everyone was probably in Holyoke, where there was a St. Patrick's day road race and parade.  

I discussed the lack of people with a random man, and we agreed that on a day like this, the night would be better.  And indeed it would have been.  There were a few people wearing green and the rogue pair of shamrock earrings, but celebration was certainly not in the air.  One man who usually requests "Amelie" requested The Pogues, so I suppose that's the highlight of the day.  If I had just come out later I'm sure I would have had more people in general, and certainly more people in green, bellies full of green beer, and hearts full of song.  Whiskey in the Jar, specifically.  I would have actually turned on the flashing feature of my earrings, and they would have looked awesome.  When the rowdy people moved on, I would lull the city to sleep with the sad ballads of Eire, offering tissues when I hit the high note on "Oh Danny Boy."  

To bring in the other sources of green...my tip box would have been billowing with aptly colored notes, and my precautionary tissues would be filled with the third green source as the temperature dropped. This is really quite obvious, as is the fact that I would never have made it from 1:30 to past 9:00, as I thought I might do if it was really lucrative all afternoon.  When all this became clear around 1:42 I considered going to a friend's house and veging for the afternoon and resuming later, but I also sort of wanted to go home.  Drunk people can be funny and charming when they tip on a celebratory evening, but they are also a drag.  And because of my crazy workweek I only had two dinners with my family last week, a cherished part of the routine, and I wanted to be home for it.  It was also cooooold.  I wore gloves on both hands and even activated a pair of hand-warmers, something I hadn't done in a while.  Winter isn't over, folks.

ANECDOTES
Regardless of the tumbleweeds rolling by, I have a couple of stories:
1. Someone complimented my performance at the REALLY BIG SHOW!  I felt like a total celebrity after that, so it was nice to feel a taste of that again.

2. A man dropped me a tip and said, "Okay, serenade me!"  I asked what he wanted to hear, and he said, "Something snappy."  My brain was too cold to think of the perfect song, so I played "Paint it Black."  It did the trick, though: "That certainly got my toes tapping!"

3. A little girl stopped and said, "Wait a second...did you do New Year's Eve?"  What I liked about this is her verb choice: "did."  She totally understands busking!!!

4. A homeless (?) guy I didn't recognize set up across the sidewalk from me, super close by.  He seemed friendly and smiled at my songs and stuff, but then yelled, "I bet I need the money more than you do."  I thought of so many witty comebacks when it was too late, of course.

5. Flaca broke :(  One of the strings, that is.  It's weird, I just replaced the strings for the REALLY BIG SHOW less than a month ago, and they usually last longer.  But the important one snapped and when I tied it, the knot interfered with the eyelet, so she couldn't dance.  I flipped the box upside down and just did Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox.  That also explains the smaller amount of green (you guess which one).  

6. The little kids from Springfield were out, of course, collecting donations.  We recognize each other now and say hello, which is nice.  Today, one noticed that Flaca wasn't strung up, and she asked about it.  I explained the predicament, and the girl explained to a younger girl what Flaca usually does.  She even picked up the bell and held it in place to demonstrate that feature.  I liked that.  
  
CONCLUSION
Today's lesson, on this Green-less St. Patrick's Day, is that when I do holidays, I ought to do them right.  There's no point wearing light-up earrings in the daytime!  I'm sure that philosophy can be applied metaphorically as well.  

The other conclusion is that I'm tired, and I am sick after all, so although there's more I can say I am calling this post complete and hitting the hay.  Maybe I'll dye my orange juice green tomorrow. 

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit!