Rain. Caffeine for the Weary Storyteller's Soul

Because I rarely pay any mind to the weather forecasts, I head out into the world each day with no idea of what weather event is a'coming. This morning, when I greeted the new day I saw that the ground was wet (a courtesy call for me to grab my umbrella). Stubbornly, I continued on without it. Well, yadda yadda yadda, when I got of the train this evening, I was greeting by buckets of rain. I stood around with other unprepared commuters until the rain appeared to be letting up. As I began to walk, it soon occurred that the "letting up" was just a mirage. I had two choices to make: try to make it the two blocks to my place (in heels I must say) or turn back around in defeat. Stubbornly (again), I continued on. Oh boy did nature whip me good because of it. I ended up taking off my heels to walk barefoot for better traction. And the rain fell harder. My eyes began to burn from the excessive amounts of rainwater and my clothes (and bra) were saturated...and this was only halfway through the first block! People passed with their umbrellas, ignoring the pitiful drenched barefoot lady, and not one offered to share their shield with me. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is like me--and that there are often no rewards for being a kind soul. But I'll never stop being one, nor do I want too--*deep sigh*, it's who I am.

So as I'm getting close to my shelter, some mischievous spirit decides that it would be funny to watch me--already blinded by the rainwater--slip and fall. And so I was pushed. And I slipped, but managed to get my bearings before my important work papers and pride landed into the mini-river below. Exciting, huh?

And so, now I sit, listening to the rain that pummeled me not so long ago, but now serves as a soothing soundtrack to aid my ascension to literary ecstasy. I'm plagued by competing thoughts that often chase away my ability to sit still and transcribe my thoughts. Part of it is my fault because I keep opening up the door for these distractions. I'm not perfect and so this remains a continual thing that I struggle with in my journey.

I'm grateful for the rain, for music, for depression, for happiness, for nervousness, for adrenaline rushes, for sadness, for the longing of touch and intimacy, for laughter, for friends, for the day and night, and everything else that comprises my existence. For these things are the various wells from which I drink.

{Post publishing note: Once I published this post, I realized the stark contrast to what was described in my July 21st blog post "Thirst"...Waiting for the Rain. Wow, I'm intrigued.}