Rainy Days and a Season of Scurry

It’s raining. Every year I dread the day that the skies open up and begin their annual downpours. I love the fall so much that I hate these first signs of winter. Fall to me is a season of slowing down. People bundle up and take leisurely walks with loved ones. They stop and look at the changing world around them. They take the time to enjoy life. Then the rain comes and in an instant it’s over. Suddenly people are scurrying about, running to find cover, scrambling to open their car doors before they completely soak through. No one has the time to stop and enjoy their surroundings or the people around them. I feel like it’s one of those black and white montages where the scene is played in fast forward with whimsical music playing in the background.

I claim to hate when it rains and complain all season. And I do – I hate it for all the reasons above. I hate running through the rain, soaking wet. My carefully flat ironed hair curls within seconds and my makeup runs off my face. I hate getting the bottom of my pant legs wet and watching that water creep all the way up to my knees.

The truth is, I secretly love the rain. I love walking into a toasty home and shedding those wet outer layers. I love the sound of the rain falling on the rooftop. I love spending a cold, rainy day curled up by a fireplace reading a book with a glass of hot cocoa (or better yet, red wine). Those hibernation days are some of my favorites, spending too many hours in bed under warm cover. These days are made all the better when spent with that special person.

I wish I could spend the day with the one I love. I know exactly what we would do all day – nothing. Just lay next to each other and be satisfied that we had one another. Unfortunately my love will have to wait for this weekend. That’s the problem with being with someone who lives hours away. So for everyone who has their loved ones with them, take advantage of it. Be lazy, spend all day in bed with that person you love. Do it for me because I can’t. You’ll find my curled up with my dog instead, watching a romantic comedy. Wow, I really am a walking cliché.

The Moral of the Story: Today I love the weekends (and the rain, though I’ll never actually admit it.)

Young & Irresponsible

Summer is almost over, grasping to get in a few more rays before fall takes over. This transition is my favorite time of year. I often wonder if it’s because it mirrors my life. We’re always in a transition, constantly changing. I feel myself grasping onto the old, reluctant to let go, as the new takes hold.

I feel as though I missed out on the beginning of my twenties. I was so focused on growing up that I forgot to enjoy being young. Now I’m in the transition of accepting how young I actually am.

This year I was to be married and start a family. The man I was to marry was 13 years my senior and I found myself fighting to prove to others that we belonged, that it wasn’t so odd that we were together. I remember when I took my nose ring out. I looked in the mirror and saw this stud in my nose, this teeny stud that I loved so dearly, and thought how it made me look young. So I took it out. In all reality it didn’t make me look ‘young’, it made me look my age. I was 21. Last week I was curious to see if it would go back in. it had been 2 years since I last sported it. So I drove down to the same place I had it pierced and bought a replacement. It’s the same small, silver stud I wore before. It went right in. I found myself looking in the mirror and thinking once again how it made me look young. And yet I still loved it. So, I decided it would stay. Does it make me look young? Fuck it, I am young. And I’m allowed to be young.

I look back on the last two years and see how much I changed of myself in order to appear older. I wore different clothes. I listened to different music, changed my makeup. When I went out with friends we went to fancy dinners, dressed up and drank nice wines. I loved every moment of it, and still love to do those things, but I’m having so much fun wearing my jeans and flip flops and grabbing a beer at the run-down bar. The bar I would have avoided last year. I feel as though I get to be myself again. I missed me. If given the chance, would I go back and change things? Probably not. I’ve grown a lot and know things about myself now that I probably wouldn’t have learned for a long time.

So, what are you doing tonight? Let’s go be young & irresponsible.

The Moral of the story: Today I love me. Sounds selfish, I know, but true