but it’s raining outside and I’m bored as a result of my laziness and the rain for some reason reminded me of how I used to love to write on livejournal. Remember livejournal? I can’t even remember my handle on livejournal, but I do remember that I HAD to write on it EVERY day. I’m talking religiously. And I loved it.
I think I loved it so much because only a few of my friends who were also on livejournal could read it. I wrote for them.
I would write about my day, but not in a matter of fact sort of way. Often I’d start in the middle of a story about how my best friend and I were almost assaulted by a homeless man in Hollywood. Or it was a rant about a CRAZY professor who would take us on long walks around campus, pick up leaves off the ground, stare up at the sky for several minutes and then suddenly say, “This leaf has three holes in it.” No joke. One time it was a letter I had written to my imaginary mother as a character from a scene I was working on. Another time I simply described how cozy and warm my dorm room was when it was decorated with Christmas lights. It was all very carefree and fun. My friends wrote similar things and we’d post witty comments back and forth. It was lovely.
But for some unknown reason it stopped. I guess our lives just got busier and we started writing less and less and reading less and less and then there was no one to write for anymore. It was a lot less sad and important than I’m making it sound, but I still feel nostalgic for my little blogging world and slightly regretful that I let it slip away.
For a while now I’ve wanted to start blogging again, but nowadays it seems like every blog has to have an angle. I’m not sure this is completely true; I’m obviously not an avid blog reader either. But it seems like I keep hearing the phrase “To learn more about THIS read my blog.” Every Tom Politician, Dick Commentator and Harry How To has a blog. Not that I don’t like that ideas and information are being disseminated in this way, I actually really dig that. It’s just that I’m not sure how to write my own blog. Do I need an angle? Does it need to be politically motivated? Can I just write about my day?
Again, I think I’m making all of this too important. Who really gives a shit what I write? It’s just a blog. So in the spirit of my long lost livejournal I’m going to tell you about my day.
This morning I woke up, not when I was supposed to, but rather two hours too early because the rain was banging a loud, rhythmic BAM, BAM, BAM on the outside part of the archaic air conditioning unit in my window. I could say that I was pissed that I had been woken up two hours too early out of a sound sleep after a week of going to bed too late. But if I said that I’d be lying.
The truth is, when I realized that it was the rain that had woken me up a surge of happiness went through me. I love the rain. Nothing makes me happier, which is funny since the rain is so often associated with depression. But I associate it with a sort of release, a purging of things pent up, too great to carry any longer. Something healthy and necessary. To make things clean.
The rain makes me feel beautiful. Sounds like a cheesy romance novel, but it’s true. When I was little and it rained the little rock garden my dad had made in our backyard would flood and I would sit in the tiny lake, in the rain, and pretend I was a mermaid.
When it rains everything is vibrant against the gray cover. It’s like the world has come back to life. Like it remembered to remind us that there are things so simple and yet so much more important than all of our inconsequential worries. And I like being reminded, because I like having the chance to start anew.
So I felt happy, as I lay in the pitch dark this morning. Listening to the drumming on my window. Being reminded by the rain. Two hours too early.
I hope you liked this, because I wrote it for you.
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