I Played in the Rain Just Now

Homework calls, and I continue to ignore it.

I wish I could describe the downpour with as much majesty and wonder the way your mom or Shakespeare or Melville or Crane recreates nature’s power from mere words. WORDS!

But I can’t, so instead I will show you photos of my soaked self. Neighbors who live across from me and I splashed in the parking lot, which in some places was 3 inches deep. We kicked and jumped and giggled as the cool drops from the sky plinked our heads.

That is all.

What you don't see is my drenched pants dripping onto the recently cleaned carpet. Storms like these never last long, and there was even lightning and thunder, but I was the shortest among the group of us playing, so I wasn't worried.
So, I mussed my hair a bit for the photo, but how am I supposed to convince you otherwise that I went puddle jumping? And why is my room so bright? And, yes. I made the pictures small and unclickable because THEY'RE NOT FLATTERING. But I wanted everyone to know that I loved playing in the rain. And I wish YOU and YOU and YOU could have joined me. Yes, YOU. Right?

I guess it’s time to do homework now, unless any of you would like to keep distracting me. You’d be doing a good deed. I WOULD NOT TURN YOU AWAY.

Maintenance

It used to be that we’d chat for a few minutes before class began, and that would earn me the privilege of staring at the back of his head for 50 minutes. Then after a week or two, our talking progressed to after class and walking to our next classes. It was cool. I was actually making a friend from a class, and sure, he’s a guy and I’m a girl, but we talked to each other about dates he’d been on or guys I despised, and he even said the perfectly right thing when I told him someone stood me up. Relative to each other, we seemed to be on pretty neutral ground.

Then for a couple weeks, it got a little weird. I’m a girl, and he’s a guy, after all. Maybe I clammed up, because I do that sometimes. And he started arriving to class just before the bell, then he’d run off before I had a chance to catch him. We’d normally talk about our weekends or interests or the kinds of friends we keep, usually after class. There’d be a little snarkiness but always some laughing. Then we’d split off to go to our respective classes, and I’d be feeling extremely dandy, thinking I was making a real connection with a human being I don’t live with or see at church.

Of course I stalked him. I found his phone number from the online student directory. Way too easy. I texted him once – just to make sure it was really his number – at least a month ago, and that probably was a little creepy, but he took it well. Also, if I really wanted to freak him out, I would have battered him with texts. Seeing him in class was enough for me. And, he’s only a friend.

He’s talked to me since the texting, but that doesn’t explain the avoidance, so maybe I was emitting some repulsive vibe, which, considering my disposition the last couple of weeks, is completely plausible. Seriously cranky. Seriously whiny. I definitely didn’t want to be near me, and I didn’t blame others if they felt the same way.

Outside of church, I spent most of Sunday writing a paper which happened to be for the class this guy is in. And it wasn’t like I was thinking only of him, because I was pretty focused on the paper, but it was probably the association that made me grab my phone and text him. I was tired of feeling like my relationships were crumbling, and this was a last ditch effort to salvage what I could. The worst that could happen would be awkwardness for the rest of the semester, which, if you’re me, is mostly how normalcy feels. The text said something like, “Hey, this is May from class. I’m a little sad we don’t talk as much anymore. I feel like I’ve been a poor friend. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, and I hope you’re having a good Sunday.”

No reply. And that was fine, because I was too busy pulling my hair out about the paper. I went to bed without giving the text a second thought. Out of my hands, anyway.

The next morning, he was late, just like a third of the class who were probably printing their papers to submit. I was relieved when he showed up; I wasn’t even nervous. And he seemed rather chipper. He commented more than usual, and I took brilliant notes of the class discussion.

Then the dismissal bell rang. I gathered my things, and he slung on his backpack. I’m not sure how it started, but we left the classroom and walked down the halls talking to each other about our weekends. He let me talk more, like he always does, and he laughed at my wise cracks. [Ignore this tangential and inappropriate question: Is it fitting that wise-asses have wise cracks? Is it bad manners to tell someone her wise crack is showing?] I tried sharing my umbrella with him, because Provo apparently needed a pre-winter washing. Then before he shot off to his class, we said goodbye to each other.

That’s a start.

For the rest of you, I have a whole lot of undoing to do. Please be patient.

Rubbing It In

I just checked the weather. The highs are going to stay around 80 degrees for the next 10 days.

I listened to a thunderstorm around midnight last night.

When I stepped out for a short run this morning, fat, ploppy drops stuck to the surfaces of cars and leaves. The air smelled clean; my lungs rejoiced.

Sure, the humidity can be a bit stifling, but I’ll take that anyday over freezing rainstorms.

That is all.

That Old Song

What I’ll miss: New Year’s Eve
I know I just said I won’t miss tourists, but nothing is quite like the phenomenon of one million people standing in Times Square waiting to ring in the New Year, or the thousands of parties around the city watching it on television. I might actually be in Utah on New Year’s Eve, and I know I’ll be looking at my former home and wondering where everyone is or how they’re anticipating the rest of their lives. I miss it already.

What I won’t miss: Dirty snow and unjumpable puddles
I love when a fresh blanket of snow covers the city overnight, and it softens the noise and makes everything look brighter, but once the plows come through and traffic awakes and turns the snow into mud slushies, it’s gross, and I feel like spitting. I’m done.

I love summer rains and the fresh and cooler air it brings, and even how the clouds and I even seem to bond as we perspire together, but summer doesn’t even seem like summer when you fear catching a disease from jumping in a puddle. When it rains, all the city fluids combine and the drains become sewers above ground, turning us all into grumpy, 9-to-5, scurrying, mangy-haired rats. All I want is a fresh, clean puddle.

Earworm of the Day: Patty Griffin, “Rain”

It rained nearly all day yesterday. Thunder, lightning, darkness at midday; falling, steady, splashing sheets veiling the windows and everyone’s vision; soaking everyone to the bone. It got this song stuck in my head. Sometimes it really captures how I feel, especially the chorus. Patty and her songs. Man.

Today? Gorgeous.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about “Patty Griffin – Rain“, posted with vodpod

 

It’s hard to listen to a hard hard heart
Beating close to mine
Pounding up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won’t climb

Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep
You think that you’re gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep
With all this rain falling down

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
But I’m holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Its hard to know when to give up the fight
Two things you want will just never be right
Its never rained like it has to night before

Now I don’t wanna beg you baby
For something maybe you could never give
I’m not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
But I’m holding on underneath this shroud
Rain