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My musical moods change with the weather. One day I'm blasting Red Hot Chili Peppers all through my work day, the next day I'm vibing out to Anthony Hamilton, and the next day I'm stuck on Hillsong's inspiration station. Lately, however, I've been on a blue-eyed soul kick, specifically that of the British variety. What is it about British pop that makes it so much more noteworthy than American popular music? The lyrics, maybe? I've lost count of how many songs out today have "na na" or "la la" somewhere in the hook, repeated over and over again. Is that the best these songwriters have got lately? Those aren't even real words...

I'm over it. I've been hopping across the pond for some melodic refreshment, and mannnnn have I been feeling every ounce these ladies pour into their tracks. Duffy is giving me the strength leave my husband with Warwick Avenue, and I'm not even married! Her Rockferry album came out my freshman year of college, and I remember how the song Stepping Stone made me realize the reality of my romantic situation (and that thugs need hugs, too). She's been laying low since her sophmore album, Endlessly, but I'll be waiting patiently until she returns.


Ladies, picture this.

You walk into Subway around lunch time. The usual rush has died down, and there's only one person in line ahead of you - a young man who's probably on his break from the office. He glances over in your direction once or twice while he's telling the person behind the counter how to arrange his sandwich. You're not really paying much attention to anything but the food you're about to order, but you also can't help but notice when someone looks in your direction. All goes well with the sandwich buying business. The man ahead of you pays for his lunch and leaves, or so you think...


I've had this photo in an empty draft since Monday afternoon, which was when I was going to write something up about something that I did that day. Only, I didn't do anything that day. My view pretty much stay the same as above for the entire afternoon. I had the day off, and I had real plans. I was going to bike a few miles on the Silver Comet Trail. I was going to sit in the park at the Marietta Square and finish reading The Rook since it's due back to the library on Monday. I was going to pull out the DSLR and just get snap happy. Instead, however, I sat in the same spot, watching Torchwood: Miracle Day on Netflix.

SO I decided to take a picture of the moment, but it didn't come out nearly as clear as I thought it did, and I was too lazy to try taking another one, so I just closed out the post and left it there to rot in my draft section. Now it's Friday, and I still don't have any real photos to show for my week, except for one...
© the active spirit. +