Love, love is a verb Love is a doing word Fearless on my breath Gentle impulsion Shakes me, makes me lighter Fearless on my breath
Teardrop on the fire Fearless on my breath
forever, because of House i think, this is and will be a song that gives me that extra mile. whether its running for miles and feeling the pulse of it in my step or whether its moments like right now when i’ve been reading medical jargon for an extra epidemiology class on statistical medical article analysis and feel an easy way to take a break and do something more fun - it tells me the same thing:
i do what i do because i can. other people dont or they stop because they can’t. which one will you be? what can you do? and what’s your endurance? do you exercise endurance daily? do you push yourself? has your mind or your body become stagnant? get up, get out, and keep going. run your tread down, amass scores of books and give them to anyone willing to read, think of something impossible every day, take time every day to enjoy a piece of fresh fruit, let the rain kiss your face, complement someone behind their back, smile at a stranger, wave to little kids who look at you, ride a bicycle, walk a dog, sing a song, don’t slam doors, use lamps not lights, speak don’t talk, and never forget to start everyday with your arms stretched up high. reach for it. reach.
i took a blind man by the arm and led him through the subway station at rush hour without losing a beat, whispering everything to him that we approached. my friend who was with me said it was my good deed for the day and i thought that was a silly thing to say. who counts these things anymore? i realized i finally have taught myself not to. people who keep count are often the people who feel some sense of entitlement and easily feel short handed by others, by life. i grew up with someone who did this. it consumed her. at some point i recognized this in her and from then on i didnt want anything remotely resembling a favor from her because i knew she would just file that away in some asinine list of debts with a value unknown to anyone but herself. at that point, what good is that person? even the good they may attempt to perform loses its meaning.
so don’t keep count. do good things because its your nature. that way, you just keep doing them and don’t even realize it. there’s never a tally. there’s never anything owed to you. you just live that way. and you know what? randomly really great things happen to me. its those times i think maybe i am doing something right.
so, i was done with work and in the hustle and bustle of nyc i was attempting to track down a Best Buy to pick up the last Harry Potter dvd because i’ve been watching them and never got that one. i’ve also been feeling quite jumbled, you know. a sort of frustration i think. its most likely a spike in my brain of estrogen and it makes me feel angry for no reason but not. lonely but not. its stupid and dumb and there it is. so, watching some HP would make me happy, give me that little escape/comfort i want right now. SO, i head off, tossing tourists as i go, and into Best Buy i realize wow, the dvd section seems small. if they dont have it, i’ll have to wait for netflix. hrmf. so i meander and hear “MEAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!” and this dominican nearly tackles me. it was someone I worked with at the record store, which feels like eons ago. we get to talking and mostly reminisce how awesome that job was. how stupid and fun and ridiculous it all was. he makes me promise to visit him at his other job too. he gave me so many hugs that when i left, i really did feel better.
and the point to all this babble: I didn’t need a movie; i just needed hugs.
hooray for that!
did you get any good hugs today? did you give any?
i just got back from a walk with the pups. we went all around up to the polish hood and zig zagged around up there and then when we were a few blocks from home some guy asked me (it never fails) ”hey, are dose dawgs twins?” and i always want to say “um you do realize most dogs are born 5 or 6 at…
You held me and we danced despite the cramped space between a four poster bed and an ugly old dresser. Your friends looked at my friends. The old green worn carpet never felt a finer pair of feet. such happy intruders! (I was never allowed visitors in that room.) A few minutes after this song ended my older brother came upstairs wielding a Molson and a plastic gun, his 18 yr old american machismo versus your 18 yr old canadian easiness. i always loved that about you.
the first time i heard it was when my friend katie would sing it at any opportunity. i mean ANY. waiting for the chair lift. waiting in line at the cafeteria. waiting for the school bell. waiting for anyone to do anything. she sang about it. just like this. and goddamn was it catchy. soon enough i was singing about everything like this too.
katie and i also did other weird things like wearing our ski hats to class. no where in the manual did it say we could’nt wear hats. eat that, dean! har! it was one of those all girls catholic joints with the whole getup and all that and no where did it say “no ski hats”. well, until us. then they put that in. so then we just put random crap in the hats and continued to wear them, claiming them to be purses, clearly. the manual didnt say anything about not wearing purses on your head.
i did just about everything that was trouble without precedence as such. that manual went through many editions from my attendance. if you’re good maybe one day i’ll tell about about what happened to the laughing jesus. also very amusing: take the heads off of the bullfrogs from biology and place them so they are biting the tongues of people’s shoes in the gym locker room. heheheheh.
My bags were heavy but my spirit was not. My mind was bustling with all the studying I’ve been doing and all the planning my day dreams take me to. It was crisp and cold, but my scarf was wrapped up real snug, my breath keeping it warm against my cheeks. My DMs crunched the frozen snow beneath my tread and I trudged through it, remembering how daily this activity was as a child. I passed others on the sidewalk; they slipped and slid through it. I kept my pace and took the paths less traveled upon so as to feed my boots with that crunch and stomp they live for. The sun was shining - a rarity for one accustomed to the winters of Buffalo and Ontario. I was walking with this song playing in my ears and I turned onto a street particularly unkempt at about the 4th minute into this song. The sun was in my eyes and it reflected off the snow around me in such a way as to blast anything else in radiance and purity and madness. One might become angered at such a moment but it felt good. The piano played its steady rhythm and my feet continued in their steady stomp and everything felt okay. It was that moment when I heard a whisper through the crisp winds and it said “it is going to be all right.”
(perhaps most well known these days as the song MIA sampled for Paper Planes)
<3 <3 <3 this song. if you were ever in Virgin Records in Union Square and heard this on, it was most likely from me to you. :)
many a call did i make to Brother Mike in the DJ booth to play it during my shifts. Brother Mike was one crazy bastard too. when he was in the elevator he would shout all sorts of vulgarities at the top of his lungs. “DICK SUCK ASS FUCK WHORE CUNT SUCK DICK” …i think he thought it was sound proofish. shrug. i joined in whenever i was in the elevator with him. good fun. Brother Mike was always calling someone a fuckhead or little prick and they usually deserved it. he hated customers with an uncanny passion, often telling them how shitty their music tastes were. and what did the boss say? “oh that brother mike. hey, call him Sexy Lips; he likes it.” only to have people call him up and say “hey sexy lips” to be returned with of a string of vulgarities and then bossman would just laugh his head off.