Crying in public

In the most public of places, in fact. Where are there more people than the Times Square of Toronto? We had to sit on the probably dirty ground for a while, but then the four-year-old drinking the Starbucks Frappuccino got tired and made his mom leave the romantic reel. So we scored seats. Sometimes, everything works out.

Even though my legs were still sore I ran again today. And I thought a little bit more about what I'm doing and where I'm going, even though so many people say that running is just "wandering aimlessly." (I think that is redundant.) Well, that's kind of what I'm doing, except that in the back of my mind I have a pretty good idea that I probably need to make a few changes. But I don't need to rush. At least that's what I'm telling myself. And, really, who matters more in my life than I?

I am listening to New Buffalo, I've Got You and You've Got Me. It's quite pretty. I'm so very tempted to type out some lyrics, but I don't think I'll do it. Instead, I'll tell you about how I read a passage of Norwegian Wood to my friend while crossing the street today. He was worried about my safety; I was worried he wasn't paying close enough attention to Murakami's words:

"... he had a rare talent for finding the interesting parts of someone's generally uninteresting comments so that, when speaking to him, you felt that you were an exceptionally interesting person with an exceptionally interesting life."

Maybe I'll meet another person like this. Or maybe I'll just try to be that person.