this song is on repeat in my car. who is this greg laswell? probably one of the most romantic men on the planet, i think. or at least that's how his songs present him to be.
(obviously, i am a sucker for words. i'm easily seduced by a love letter or sentimental song lyrics. on the rare occasion, a single sentence can bring me to tears.)
L sent me this song on friday morning. and seriously, this IS the story of her life. i actually teared up thinking of her latest breakup and how he keeps finding ways to try to get back into her life. (it's probably not safe to be driving down a major highway crying, lol)
ah, love is so screwed up sometimes. when it's good, it's very good. but when it's bad, it breaks your heart.
(a little off topic, but i wish i looked like this christina perri chick, not to mention i'd love to be able to sing like this. or sing at all.)
i wake up this morning, hoping to squeeze in another attempt at running. i sneak out of the warm bed and tiptoe to the window. where i see raindrops in the light of the streetlight below and hear the staccato drumbeats of the water hitting the roof. i think that perhaps God is telling me that running isn't the way to go - at least not now. which may be the case - yesterday, under the guise of "other duties as assigned" in my job description, i find myself hauling a huge bench seat out of a van with my boss. and, of course, an extra large carjack falls out of the back of the van and right onto both of my knees. bruised, much? workman's compensation, maybe? 
kind of like someone gently brushing by you, running a hand over your arm, whispering in your ear.
in my solitary early morning music searches, i've come across "local natives". dreamy, psych-folk-shoegaze with a pinch of los angeles bass. addictive. you'll find it stuck in your head too. and definitely worth going over your bandwidth limit for.
just a little nostalgic. thinking about john cusack holding up that ghetto blaster in ione skye's driveway. jake waiting for molly ringwald outside the church. eric stoltz finally laying one on the patient mary stuart masterson. oh, john hughes. you puppeteer of the heartstrings.
i wake up this morning - totally late, which is surprising - and lie in bed assessing how my body feels after yesterday's athletic fiasco. (not like that, get your head out of the gutter.) it appears that my lower back and glutes have borne the brunt of the soreness, while there is slight stiffness in my upper back, traps and triceps. (i think that it's from pushing the mini in the swings last night for an hour at the park behind our house - that kid could just LIVE in the swings.) i rotate my ankles and they hurt a little too but not too badly.
so i get up and awesomely enough, my legs don't hurt much and i can walk. i had told L last night that i was pretty sure that i had crippled myself but yay! (not that she can be sympathetic, the girl bikes 20kms a day and always looks frickin' fantastic) it isn't that i'm going to try running again today (i am sooo not), but i'm glad i didn't kill myself. nothing like having to take a sick day because you were trying to be healthy.
in the light of this, i give you my most favorite jesus & mary chain song, "the hardest walk". because i fully expected it to be that way today.
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