I'm just So Proud of Myself For Knowing what "paroxysm" Means

I'm still laughing at that last post, by the way. ("stockholm syndrome"...brilliant!!)

This afternoon, I was walking out of Pilates and thinking about how I've got to go buy matte board at the bookstore, tote it back to the library to get it cut, and what were the dimensions of the windows again?...And then I noticed something strange.

The general murmur of the crowded halls had changed, almost imperceptibly, from the highs and lows of many conversations to the collective hum of a single topic. People were stopping and staring, some were smirking, others were annoyed...what was going on?

As I neared the exit doors, I saw them: Several students, hurrying inside, completely drenched. I mean, really  really soaked. The kind of soaked that happens when you are sprayed down with a garden hose, or thrown into a swimming pool. Hair was dripping and curling, clothes were sopping puddles all over the floor.
Victims of the rain reacted differently - some with humor, some with disdain - but it was clear from the lack of jackets and looks of surprise that it had come out of nowhere.

A surprise downpour. A paroxysm of Nature.

A crowd was gathering around the exit doors, staring in dismal disbelief at the buckets of water dumping out of the sky, reluctance to go out into the soggy mess was written on every face. And thus my plans to buy matte board were quickly dashed, for there was no way to transport them from one place to the other without taking them into the rain, which they would surely not survive.

Alright, so no matte boards. I still had to venture out into the rain if I wanted to get to work on time, though.

So I went out in the rain. I wasn't as drenched as certain others because it was already petering out, but I still got pretty wet. My hair got fairly curly. The cuff of my pants picked up water from small rivers rushing through dips and crevices of the pavement. I adopted the same grim expression of my fellow students as we braved the paroxysm together.

Looking back on it now, though, I'm sad it's over. I should have relished the rain while it was there. I should have taken time to appreciate it. I should have opened my arms to the sky to revel in the rebellion of the heavens.

I live in a desert. I'm not overly excited about that fact. I miss the rain when it's gone. I miss moisture. I miss the sounds of thunder and the thrill of lightening. Thunder feels good to hear. Not to my ears; to my ears it's just another noise. I'm talking about the sensation thunder creates in my soul. The visual stimulus of lightening does the same thing. It's comforting and thrilling and beautiful in a way I could never hope to describe - either visually or in words - but can only relish for myself.

Now that I'm in the office, warm and dry and bored, I find myself yearning to be back outside to stand in the midst of one of earth's marvels:

Rain.