A Rat's Ass for inspiration

Until 6:30 today I was uninspired.
At 6:30 I ran the fastest one mile repeats I have ever run (clocked in at 7:08 for mile 2). After the run I was inspired by the accomplishments, enthusiasm and genuine friendliness of some of the people I run with. I came home feeling invincible (on the running front).
Then I watched K-PAX. I wanted Kevin Spacey to be a K-PAXian. I believed he was. I am not a Sci-Fi person, and it takes a lot to suspend my belief, but I believed. More importantly, there ought to be more K-PAXians. I will definitely wear sunglasses in on tomorrow's commute.
A few minutes ago I checked to see what was worth a Rat's Ass and I was happy to see that Po had posted something.
I read an article in the paper the other day about the media, and how horrible, disastrous stories sell more than happy ones. That's why I don't read papers or have cable. I want to check out what people give a rat's ass about. One Rat's Ass blog makes me immeasurably happy because that's the nature of the blog, man.
I just wish we didn't have to slog through eight or ten hours of mundane bullshit to get that 7:08 mile, do you know what I mean?
The other two random things that I would like to talk about are likely to be deemed non-sensical and I can't be bothered to come out with a witty segue way to introduce them to the two people that read my blog (hi guys!).
Before heading for my run today, I noticed that one of my neighbours was talking to another guy in the building that was showing her some stamps he had collected or had been given. Both of them were in their seventies, I'm guessing, and I had a range of emotions when waiting for the elevator. First of all, they seemed really happy to see me and said hi, and then the older gentleman went back to explaining the history of the stamps and how he had come upon them and you could sense that he was into it, and wanted to share his story with this woman who was half-interested, but being a polite listener. And I thought about my grandfather because he had collected stamps, and when he passed away I think they ended up with my cousin since no one really wanted them. And I think that's sad, that someone would collect and care for something and take pleasure in it, and then no one else pays it any reverence. But moreover, the stamps were an excuse for communication, for human interaction. For this guy, the stamps were his 7:08 minute mile.
The other thing is more basic. The "rival" apartment across the street has some candles that are flickering. They've been flickering the last couple of nights and I'm too blind to discern if the candles are in or outside. Nonetheless, they are a new addition and I kind of wonder if they're in answer to the candles that I light when Michael and I sit on my balcony after it gets dark. Regardless, I find something utterly kind and human in these wavering beacons of light, as though they are some kind of show of solidarity or attempt at kinship. I understand that this past paragraph is about as groovy and far out as one is wont to get, but whatever. I dig the candles, man.
I hope you all go out and get your 7:08 miles this weekend.