Idioms

Heavy Rain

To think of deluge is to think of you - swift and torrential. I got in trouble once, as a child, for standing in my driveway while the rain fell in cold sheets on my shoulders. There was something decadent about the act, something forbidden, that made every drop more worthwhile on my skin.

It's the water that attracts me, lures me, leads me on. What can be said about the sudden sensuality of downpour, the deafening drama of a storm? My favourite rains hit hard and heavy - like I said, they remind me of you. They remind me of those early days, where falling only meant returning to the start. They take me back to the way things were, when the sound of scattered raindrops so closely resembled the beat of my own heart.

And beat it did, a frantic vibrato, hummingbird wings in my chest. It was almost funny, the first time I heard yours, the surprise I felt when they almost matched. Staccato like a tattoo needle, a woodpecker building it's nest.

I think rain is intimating - it brings us closer to the surface. A figurative and literal cleansing, a purge of thought. How else can you explain the lightness in the air after a storm has passed through, the hazy appreciation of beginning anew? I can't shake the feeling that sometimes the universe needs its own catharsis, when all that builds up breaks down. But maybe this is just an excuse for me to exploit this pathetic fallacy, in an attempt to intimate my own feelings.

And intimate I do, with the sky as my backdrop. I want to share hot drinks with you by cafe windows, as raindrops make tracks on the tempered glass. I want to wake up on Sunday mornings beside you, as pluming grey clouds roll in for a stay. I savor the moments when you walk me home in the rain, pretending not to notice how wet you are getting, as you try to keep me dry. I can tell you don't mind.

The next time it rains though, we'll leave the umbrellas at home. I want to be outside when the first drops fall - I want to catch the momentum, the cascade. I want to feel like I did all those years ago, like I'm trespassing on some natural order, going places I've been forbidden to go. I can almost feel it now - the rivulets, the streams, all the same temperature as the sky. It's raining so hard I can barely see, but that's fine.

And maybe on this kind of stage, I can tell you my secrets, cold and crisp on my tongue. Maybe like this, you can try to open up, worn down by some endless rhythm. It's hard to say. But no problem seems so bad in a lightning storm, no difference so jarring as a thunderclap. Nothing calls me like the rain knocking: tip-tap, tip-tap.

The Thickening

My Favourite Things

I love:

Seeing subway lights as the train rounds a corner.
The first bite of an apple.
The smell of hot glue.
Sitting in the car.
Coke bubbles up my nose.
Crying during happy/sad/scary/any movie.
Breaking fortune cookies.
Surprises.
Thinking about surprises.
Giving people surprises.
Giving people presents.
Making you laugh.
My brown leather boots.
4 AM heart to hearts.
Heavy rain.
Mechanical pencils.
Printed photos.
Opening mail.
My hot pink penny board.
The ravine in spring/summer/fall/winter/spring,
Sweet and sour sauce.
Holidays.
Rereading my favourite books.
The bridge between Castle Frank and Broadview Station.
Lana Del Rey
The smell of grapefruits.
The taste of grapefruits.
Eating pomegranates.
Digging in the sand.
Forehead kisses.
Long, long, long, long, long hugs.
Staying up late with friends.
Walking home.
Wearing pretty dresses and colourful tights.
The sound of dial-up Internet.
Folding stars.
Knit sweaters.
Hands.
Anything floral.
Seeing your name on my phone screen.
Talking about the past.
Talking about the first times.
Talking with my mom.
Sour gummy worms.
Slang.
Times New Roman.
Sleeping in on Sunday mornings.
Writing a good test.
Candles.
Having exact change.
New metropasses.

And if you read this far,

I probably love you too.

High Tea

Snack on apple seeds.

Steep hydrangea tea.

Spread yew berry jelly.

Such delicacies.

Di(n)e with me.

When You're Down

Sometimes I need to remind myself about perspective. I've always found it very difficult to assess things when looking towards myself. Call it an inward astigmatism - I look at myself and I can't seem to focus.

My mirrors need to come with the warning that "objects in mirror are better than they appear".

I had two points that I wanted to cover today, things I wanted to come back to whenever I'm feeling the blues.

1) You are very lucky and very loved.

2) You must be doing something right to be that lucky and to be that loved.

Because it's true. When I think about how hard it is to gain someone's love and trust, and the kind of providence needed for it to happen... Well, let's just say that these are not events of pure chance and happy coincidence. There's something about you and there's something about me that made it happen. And if we could make a friendship, a relationship, a conversation so inviting that I'd always overstay my welcome... There must be something about me that makes you feel the same.

Maybe it's that "something" that is hard for me to quantify. I can effortlessly tell you why I love you, to the nth degree. I can sing your praises without sheet music; hell, I wrote the songs.

But maybe that's okay. Maybe it's okay, as long as I can recognize the deliberateness of our interaction and the tenderness of it all. These are the moments of my life as they happen, and things will never be the same. Maybe I don't want them to be.

Let's wait and see. 

Birthday Wishes

The Start

I miss writing.

I miss watching the news before I go to bed.

I miss being able to eat alone.

Today, I feel like someone constantly distracted. I pull the wool over my own eyes, so I don't have to face my problems. That's a really scary thought...

I can't seem to fall asleep naturally anymore. I fall asleep to shows and voices so I don't feel alone. I drift away to sitcoms so I don't have to hear myself think.

Today, I am tired of feeling hollow and unsubstantial. I want to try something new, be someone different. Okay, maybe not different. But better.

I think I can strive for better.

I'm looking forward to the new school year. I'm going to be working in my old lab, with some old friends. I'm taking some cool courses. I'm thinking about picking up a new hobby or activity. I'm applying to medical school... after so many years of only dreaming about it.

Do I have anxiety? Yes. Y-e-s, yes, 1000 times yes. I've had my low moments, and now I want to move on. I feel... hopeful, really hopeful at the moment, and I hope it lasts.

Tomorrow is a new day!!