Friday, September 3, 2010

And When Your Friends Say, "What Is It? You Look Like You've Seen a Ghost"

Last night, I stood out on the fire escape in the middle of a thunderstorm, just to let the rain fall on me--just to let nature endow me with the substance that gives life. I looked west, out over the city rooftops, and watched the lightning strike, watched the lights of cars roving the dark avenues, watched the people walking below through the alley with umbrellas. It was a rare opportunity to simply see and listen, to receive whatever messages I miss while going about the rest of my life, as self-involved as everyone else.

So far, thunderstorms may be my favorite thing about living in this time zone. The sheets of rain, the electricity, the thrashing wind--plus, out here, the fact that it's raining doesn't automatically mean that every few minutes, some idiot is crashing his car into a center divide because he doesn't understand how to drive in the rain.

I'm in the midst of a battle with my bad habits--at least, those that tend to make me a pale, boring recluse. I really need to get out of the house.

The hunt for a second job is beginning; hopefully it won't be as vicious as the last ordeal, though I'm not very optimistic about that.

As I write, an almost chilly little breeze is coming in through my windows (which I fixed last night out of necessity due to rainfall, so they do open and close now), ultimately to blow my curtain in my face. I haven't noticed any telltale signs of autumn yet, but I'm starting to feel its presence nonetheless. It seems beautiful outside, and I'm slightly depressed at the knowledge that it's laundry day. But laundry day it is.