how does rain make you feel?

halfway through my last class, it started raining. i had parked on that damn hill my college made into a carpark with which i still have undecided feelings about. that damn carpark is situated on a blady hill but yet it appears nearer to my class block than the parking lots on ground level (i wish i could paint a clearer picture but my ability to describe things seem, obviously, lacking).

that damn carpark on a hill is still halfway completed. the ground is made out of sand and these small greyish-white stones that look like granite...is it granite stones? if i'm wrong well, my entire rock vocabulary revolves and, with good reason, should only revolve around precious stones.

anyway, think about how insanely difficult it is to walk on stones...and then think about walking on them wearing heels...and then think about walking on them wearing heels as rain pours down, loosening the sand thus making every step a slippery comedy...

but rain has a weird calming effect once you're out of it. your clothes and hair is still a little damp, your books are all wet and wrinkly now, your shoes are all squeaky against the rubber mat of your car...you turn on the air-conditioning and as you quickly dry, your mood eases...driving in the midst of a thundering rainstorm with melancholic music blasting in the background (or presentground) somehow makes everything you've been worrying about seem insignificant. it's just you, John Mayer, and the long, near-invisible road ahead.


it's a terrifying feeling of mortality but it is that knowledge that our bodies are easily destructible that puts everything into perspective. worries about success, the future, and a hot-bod by August take a backseat as i pull into Centerpoint's chinese hawker place and 'ta pau' the lunch i had planned to skip.

word of the day: the Energizer bunny will die in 20 years