I danced in the rain today.

The thunderstorm was gorgeous. I don't know if you had a chance to look outside and enjoy it, but if you didn't, you missed out. It was a miracle from Nature. I like thunderstorms. I don't usually like rain, because I think I have SAD and when it's rainy and cloudy I usually get into a funk and kind of a depressed mood. I like thunderstorms, though. They're intense and engaging. Soothing, too.

I stepped outside the front door, onto our "porch" as it were. I had my iPod, of course, as if the noise from the thunderstorm weren't enough. "Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer came on. Good song. I sat, for a while. I thought, for a while.

I'm not really sad, you know? I guess it just hasn't it me yet. I'm not nostalgic, yet, and I don't know that I will be in the way that I thought I would be--I realize that all of the hundreds of people that I know... well, they're great, but they probably won't remember me. I'll keep in touch with some of the good ones, even some of the unexpected ones, but the rest will fade away into the fabric of my past. So it goes.

The wind picked up and it started to rain - big, fat, heavy raindrops. "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield came on.

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

I really like this song. I got up. I reached out my arms, and felt a few of the raindrops. I looked up, to see the lightning streak across the sky. I started dancing.

I danced along my sidewalk and into my driveway, I danced past my driveway into the cul-de-sac, and onto the sidewalk in the neighbors' house. I danced in the middle of the street.

The rain was pouring down and I looked up at the sky and my glasses were covered in the big, fat raindrops. I couldn't see, but somehow I still could. My glasses became a kaleidescope. The streetlights have never looked more enchanting. I laughed, and sang as loudly (and as well - or poorly) as I could.

"Ordinary People" by John Legend came on. This is another favorite.

We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow

I sang along, and thought about "it." Him, I guess, is more appropriate. There is no more "him" because now it's more of a concept than anything tangible. "Him" could be the potential guy (prom date) or the guy I've never really known about. I don't know. I don't think I need to know.

I walked in the middle of the street. I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, and I alternated between looking down at the crack in the middle of the road and up at the thundering sky, which really didn't seem very threatening at all. Unless you consider a very deep shade of indigo to be threatening. I saw a frog.

I went back and sat on the front stoop, a little bit colder but invigorated. As "Goodbye My Lover" by James Blunt came on, I started to really think about... him. I was interrupted by Saloni; it wasn't an upsetting intrusion, just a little unexpected. But not unwelcome.
"Stop hovering," I told her, "sit." Amid great sighing at the thought of being in such close proximity to bugs and rain, she sat.

We talked. We talked about Iowa next year, leaving my friends behind, or, rather, going our separate ways; about living in the dorms and living in the apartment with her, making friends there, I told her that I am more mellow now and almost expect to not have very many friends next year because "... I think it's time, I kinda just want to hang out with myself for a bit." I asked if she and Ram were going to stay together next year (she said "we're going to try") and I told her that I really liked him. He is a genuinely nice guy. I could see him as a good brother-in-law.

I said everything I'd been thinking. I told her that she needed to give me a little space, allow me to adjust to her being home all of a sudden; that it was hard going months without talking to her and then suddenly trying to adapt to this demanding whirlwind that nearly stressed me out. To understand that I've grown up in all the time that she's been away, and that I need a sister and not another mother. I told her that the way she asks me questions in rapid-fire form make me uncomfortable, that I feel awkward and shut down because I don't know what to say and then give up because I feel like I can't tell her anything - that I never used to feel like I could tell her anything because I was too worried that she'd run and tell Mom and Dad. She told me that she pushed me because "...Mom is tired. She doesn't push you anymore, which is ridiculous, because you need to be pushed." She probably won't stop, but hopefully she'll at least be nicer about it. I know that she has my best interests in mind/at heart.

I told her that I didn't want to shout anymore. I don't like shouting.

She told me that it was weird for her, too, because she'd "never had [me] as a friend before." I never really thought about that. I guess she needs some space, too.

We joked, and I told her a quick childhood story about a time that she publicly shunned me in front of her friends when I was in third grade, and made her feel bad - but in a funny way. "We'll chill this summer," she said. "As long as it's not only because there's a marathon of America's Next Top Model on and you have nothing else to do," I responded. Even if it is, that's okay. I didn't tell her that, though.

Eventually she got up and went back into the house. I stayed for a few more minutes, soaking in the fresh air and waiting around in hopes of seeing the lightning one last time. I didn't see any lightning, but I did see a few fireflies. The concept of a firefly fascinates me. A creature's entire existence is solely dedicated to provide light to whatever or whoever is around to appreciate it. Then it dies. Now THAT'S living.


I smell like rain.

Bam! In the non-Emeril way

I'm sorry that I haven't posted in so long. Not that anyone really reads this, but I feel bad, like I've broken a reluctantly-made promise.

Things have changed. I considered taking down the last post, but maybe that's not fair. I shouldn't have to erase parts of my life just because they're over now. I can't deny the existence of certain moments or people (as much as I'd like to).

As Yes mentioned in a post not too long ago, things are coming to a close very quickly. Very suddenly. I knew that this year was going to go by quickly, but I don't think I fully understood the gravity of it. Along with life hurtling along at break-neck pace, it's also changing--it must be gradual, but it's hardly noticeable. Then you wake up one day and BAM! something that you once considered a constant in your life has radically changed.

It's easy to speak in ambiguities, because then I feel like someone--anyone--can understand or relate. Perhaps I should put this into a narrower focus.

I've been thinking about it, and I have reached a conclusion: I am freaked out. There. I said it. It's out there. I am SCARED. I don't want to go to college. I've spent the last four years of my life coming to terms with the person I am, the person I am becoming, and I kind of like things the way they are. More importantly, I don't want to leave Valley because I fit in. Not necessarily with a group of people (apart from my friends) or a label, but because I know exactly where I stand. I know people, and people know me. They're good people. There are good people at this school.

It's not really the students, either. I don't know what I'm going to do without Graz. I know that sounds silly, but Graz has been a rock for me, and even more than that - he's just been there. I live in his room, I eat his food, I interrupt his classes, and I bug him about everything. Every day. My best friend is a fifty-three year old balding Italian man, and, dammit, I'm going to miss him.

Speaking of best friends, I just recently "lost" one of mine. We "broke up" on Thursday... I put that in quotations because I don't know if it is possible to be "dating" without ever actually going on dates. That's the problem with long-distance relationships, they aren't "dating" they're "relationships". I feel like a Facebook status - "no longer in a relationship." How lame.

The thing is, I knew it was coming. I knew going into it that it was stupid and, frankly, really really weird (circumstances-wise). But I went for it anyway, and I'm not unhappy that I did. I think I needed it... everyone needs a first. As did I. In all honesty, I think I deserve(d) it. "It" being someone to have for my own, even if for only a short while. And I don't know if I've ever been more content, because I really was content. I can't say happy - though there weren't happy moments - but I was fulfilled.

I knew that we probably wouldn't last through the summer, either, but I wanted to wait until I had graduated so that I knew I'd be in a right frame of mind... not so stressed out, freaking out, about all the things I need to get done. I didn't want to make any rash decisions and regret them later. I can pinpoint the day, I think, that he ... "changed." After that he just drifted off, pulled back, and I found out later it was intentional. Fair enough, I guess. I know this is callous, but I wanted to be the one to do it. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

I guess it is mostly just disappointing. As I lay in bed that night, crying my eyes out (even though I didn't really know why), the self-deprecating thoughts started creeping into my head. "Well, if he doesn't love me, no one will" and "I'm way too ugly" and "Now I'll never be anything" - things of that sort. Shortly thereafter, I realized that was stupid for two reasons. 1) I survived just fine without him. I don't think I was really that dependent on him, anyway. I think that is a good thing. and 2) Why should my self-esteem shatter over this? I don't mean to be arrogant, but I am a good person. I'm caring, I'm genuinely interested in other people's welfare, I'm funny (if only because I say stupid things), smart, and not entirely unattractive. I am a good person. This too shall pass.

So I cried, and now that that's done, I've got nothing left to do but move forward. Maybe something will happen, and maybe it won't. At the end of it I guess I just have to realize that I'm going to be going to a college campus of like 25000 boys, and of those, at least one has to be somewhat decent. Until then, I don't need to worry about that.

I think it'll be lonely for a while, just because I'll be shy of a really good friend. I have gotten very used to (spoiled) having someone listen to all of my stupid jokes and stories and me blabbering for hours on end. I know I have my friends, but it was different. One day I'll have that again, someone to be in sync with. Actually, I mean that we'll start a boy band...

I've got to plod onward with my life.

"You're brave. You're marching into the unknown armed with ... nothing."
-You've Got Mail