Oh, how I love the rain.
Something about the air, the fresh tenderness, the tinted, painted delicacy of the dark red leaves and lime tinted grass, the tiny droplets sliding from window panes, the comfort of staying in doors with a hot drink, a pretty song and a good book..
I wish it rained more often. Even the messy parts aren’t so bad for this sense of peace and beauty. There’s an underlying melancholy, of course. At times the catalyst to delve into full on angst-depression, but for now, it’s just a lingering unfulfilled wish, a scent of wistfulness that is ever so soothing in its sadness.
This morning, getting up at 6:30 for work felt like a mission in the depths of the night. Which, for me, it may as well have been. For some reason, I felt rather awake. A bit disoriented from whatever mixed dream/nightmare/fantasy/daydream I had been in, but not mentally tired. And after work, I was semi-cleaning my room, and picked up the iLife brochure from the University of Chicago. I’d read it before, of course, but this time, as I glanced at the gorgeous campus and read the students’ classroom discussion, flipped through the majors and activities, I felt a need and love and something like…belonging.
Cliche, perhaps. Ridiculous, perhaps. I’ve never even been to the U of C, not even set foot in Chicago outside of its high tech, gorgeous airport. And if I wanted to be realistic, a EA deferral probably isn’t the most encouraging sign that Chicago is my future. But when have I really ever believed in realism?
I think I’ll start sleeping with it under my pillow. A pointless and theatrical gesture, but one that comforts.