It's not for everyone

It's been a while since last it rained like this. I love it :)

Yesterday, I was running home along the sidewalks of Berkeley, just south of the campus perimeter. I don't quite know when it kicked up the way it did, but it was a classic, if short-lived, rainstorm... the wind gusted almost spastically, causing the torrent to frequently careen one way and then the other, like a huge flock of small birds, all following some undesignated leader. It would have been impossible to actually see it, though, if not for the glow of the street lights reflecting off individual raindrops, making every last one stand out in crisp relief against the darkness.

Did I mention this was about one in the morning?

The only downside was getting wet. I was trudging home with a backpack full of papers, a cellphone in one arm, and a broadsword slung over the other. (Don't ask.) But I've always liked stormy weather, and though I was safe and warm within ten minutes or so, it wasn't all that bad, being rather soaked by the time I walked through the darkened doors of my present home.

Stormy weather suits me. My personality isn't all that sunshiny - I've always had a tendency to be somewhat maudlin. But it's not that the storm's gray and gloom are what fit me. The rain is cool and soothing... so much of life is spent running around and staying artificially busy, it's just nice to look into the sky and let something natural surround you... a reminder that, in a civilized environment where we attempt to exert control over every last detail, where traffic laws and zoning permits and city ordinances dictate where everything should find itself, that mother nature still listens to no one, choosing to offer you comfort, if only you'll recognize it as such. The rain is loud and energetic, the raindrops drowning out the sound of people and wildlife in the dark, a murmuring, rustling patter that creates a kind of white noise that's somehow unusually conducive to contemplation. It keeps me awake and attentive for those moments of introspection I once indulged in so often, and it ushers me off to sleep when my mind, weary from reading and analysis, succumbs to blessed unconsciousness. The wind is furious and majestic, beating against your body, making you aware of an incredible fullness of sensation; in normal, everyday life, it's sometime easy to become relatively unaware of the extent of your own body - rather like the fact that you don't feel the weight of the clothes you wear all day, or of the glasses perched on your nose. The wind reminds you where you are - all of you at once, as the gusting currents awaken sensation across your entire form. The thunder and lightning evoke old images of angry gods from literature and religion, bringing to mind those instances of righteous fury aroused by a slight or insult, or the larger-than-life feeling of triumph at the completion of a quest - depending on your mood, it can make you feel small and timid, or defiant and bold.

Rainstorms make me happy, which some people don't understand... but it's all right with me. It's like my take on being a cynic; being a cynic or misanthrope doesn't mean I've given up on the world, though that's what it might seem by outward appearances. Sometimes, it seems to me that many cynics haven't forsaken their world, or their fellows... some cynics are really idealists who hope for the best and prepare for the worst... and hate, more than anything else, to be proven right.