1. Driving in a freezing rainstorm is not fun.
2. One of the Top Ten Petty Things I Despise: Cars in the fast lane going under the speed limit. Even more so, semis in the fast lane going under the speed limit. Add on the monsoon they have trailing behind them when there’s water on the freeway…well.
3. Puppies are wonderful, even if they have stinky doggie breath and mucho fur. I really wish I weren’t so obsessed with being clean, because cuddling with a puppy seems like it’d be really nice.
4. The Tillmans are awesome, and funny in the way that I’ve heard about them all so I feel like I know them but saying what I know would probably be wildly inappropriate. But yeah, it’s nice here in Pittsburgh :)
5. Rachael and I spent circa two hours trying to pick a movie to watch and ended up giving up and going to sleep. It was a major fail moment.
6. Lookie at the present Rachael got me! Teeehehhehee. It probably made me more excited than I’d care to admit.
7. Super sleepy, goodnight.
Rain tumbles down, the bus is late,
Suddenly a furry wet giant is by your side.
Don’t be afraid, just open wide
Your umbrella for him;
Watch him play in the rain…
(I wish I didn’t neglect this blog so much.)
Lots of good talks today, with old friends, new friends, acquaintances, strangers. Before APTT, I never would have guessed it to be so easy to have a such a fulfilling conversation with someone I met ten minutes ago. You know like, the feeling you have after a really good convo? The talk doesn’t have to be long or deep, but it is meaningful in some way and afterwards, even if the convo wasn’t about something particularly happy, you walk away feeling lighter, almost, and satisfied. I don’t know if that’s the best way to describe it, but…you know what I mean? It may be a little late for me to be making much sense.
Also, through some marvelous sleuthing, (yeah, not really,) I uncovered a covert reader of this blog. You know you you are :) But in official greeting…HELLOOO!!!
(Side note: It just started pouring outside. My window is open; the wind is making my blinds go crazy, and my room smells like mist and rushing water. Seriously, though, one of the best sounds in the world is the sound of falling rain.)
But back to all the good conversations — a lot of them involved my own worries about the future and dissatisfaction with the way people treat each other, but they have also been a lot about other people’s stress and anxieties and unhappy life circumstances… and so the following verse has knocking around my mind quite a bit recently. (It got me through last summer — everything from trivial things like talking to people I’d been too
awkward scared to talk to in years, to more not-so-trivial things like moving away from everything I’ve known, and major crossroads with my parents. But what’s great about the Bible. This verse, the one that carried me through so much last year and came to mean so much to me, now means something completely different. That significance isn’t better or worse, it’s just…different. But it meets me exactly where I am, and gives me exactly what I need right now. So yeah. Thanks, God.)
Philippians 4:6-7 — “In nothing be anxious, but in everything, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; And the peace of God, which surpasses every man’s understanding, will guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.”
Things Jane has done in the pouring rain this summer, in no particular order
— Sat at the window, watched the lightning play across the sky, and blogged
— Walked around Baltimore and took pictures
— Drove around Baltimore and took pictures
— Drove through most of Virginia at 4 a.m., Rebecca Black blasting away at full volume
— Had a dance party, solo in the empty apartment
— Did a cartwheel
— Took a nap in the storage closet at work
— Left the window in my bedroom open on purpose, so everything smelled like raindrops and the soft swish of windshield wipers and green
— Left the windows in my car open by accident, so everything smelled like wet dog
— Baked a cake
— Walked through campus and heard “Upsidedown (Bouncing Off the Ceiling)” by the A*Teens from off in the distance; started running towards the source
— Joined in on a random dance party with strangers, outside, during a rainstorm
— Rocked out
— Drew a vampire, a clown and a cowboy
— Played in the surprisingly large sprinkler population on campus
— Walked downhill through very dark woods on a very muddy path in very slippery flip-flops
— Stood barefoot in the middle of a stream
— Stood barefoot in the middle of the road as rain pounded the cement all around me, tiny rivulets tugging at my feet, head back and watching the water fall, fall, fall, fall
— Sang Disney songs
— Something that I’m too embarrassed to put on a public internet blog, but people who I know read this blog know, and I know I’ll know when I reread this, so…
— Sang more Disney songs
— Splashed in puddles
— Sprawled in the center of the Hopkins lacrosse field
— Played tag
— Drove three blocks with only one contact
— Thought about how this is what college is all about, and realized that there’s only a year left of this carefree craziness when the future seems like an adventure and life is limitless. (I realize that’s ridiculously pessimistic and I’m sure life doesn’t become a whirling black hole of doom and despair after college but…still. I’m going to miss this — Hopkins and Baltimore and spontaneous summer nights and especiallyespecially the people here.)
— Had fun being silly with friends
— Was happy
When I was little, the first huge snow of the year always kind of went the same way. I’d wake up and the light filtering between my blinds would be a little different — clearer, somehow, almost sharp. It was the kind of light that only shone when snow blanketed the ground, and by the time I was in middle school I didn’t even need to look out the window; I knew it had snowed overnight.
School would usually be cancelled, or maybe this happened on weekends — I don’t know, I just remember that the first big snow never involved school. The morning would be taken up by an hour of violin practice, homework (both teacher and parent provided) and an early lunch. Then half an hour of bundling up — multiple pairs of socks, snow pants (or a snow suit almost — mine were basically aqua overalls made of the same type of material as windbreakers), coat, scarf, mittens, hat with the pompom on top. And then, the most glorious of afternoons: snow men and fort building and writing things in the snow and snow ball fights and sledding down small hills and sledding down big hills and ill-advised sledding down the street and ill-advised sledding with ice jumps and ill-advised bike riding over ice jumps.
I still find little else more satisfying than making a footprint in a patch of deep, untouched, sparking-in-the-winter-sunlight snow.
And then there was that blast of air when you step back inside. the warmth that spreads across your red cheeks and dripping nose, the tingling sensation as your frozen phalanges begin to thaw. I don’t know about all these stories about parents who made them hot chocolate and let them sip it by the fire — my mother was on me like a hungry bear to honey. She would always cluck in that Asian and disapproving manner, help me peel off what felt like hundreds of damp layers, and send me scurrying towards the shower, shaking her head over the trail of melted snow I left behind me.
I was reminded of all that tonight when I turned the faucet in the tub and felt the hot water pool around my feet. When I was little, the most relaxing thing in the world was slipping into that hot shower after playing in the snow. You know that feeling — muscles uncoiling, face thawing, steam billowing up over the shower curtain. I’d have the same feeling in the summer, after an especially long day at the pool. And I’d stay in there, sometimes sitting cross-legged in the tub as I let the hot water cascade over my shoulders, until there was a thick layer of steam on the mirror and my fingers were pruny and my mom was rapping on the bathroom door, telling me to hurry up, the whole family was waiting for me to eat dinner.
There was no clucking Asian mother tonight, but I did stay in the shower far too long tonight. After like three hours out in the mist and rain, and then what felt like an eternity of an elevator ride with the air conditioner going full blast, I was shivering by the time I got in the shower, twisted the faucet and let the steaming hot water work its magic. And I writing all this down as an intro to tonight, but it is far too late and I am exhausted. To be continued tomorrow morning at work; my boss is coming in late.
Caught in the rain
Hope you have a weekend full of surprising moments
The rain rain rain came down down down
In rushing, rising riv’lets,
‘Til the river crept out of it’s bed
And crept right into Piglet’s!
And the rain rain rain came down down down
And the flood rose up up upper.
Pooh, too, was caught and so he thought,
“I must rescue my supper!”
I was having quite the pleasant dinner — Thai drunken noodles and Avatar: The Last Air Bender (no, I am not re-watching the entire series after having just finished my first run-through yesterday. Except that’s a lie) — when I saw something spark in the corner of my left eye, like a camera flash. I look up at our giant dining room window and see this absolutely gorgeous gradient of blue sky. It’s clear and crystal and the color of CInderella’s ball gown on the right, and then it deepens across the window to this swirling, midnight blue on the left, like irises. Then the thunder cracked.
And so I spent the next half hour relishing in the thunderstorm. It was amazing, heart-stopping. I abandoned my Thai food and made tea. Being this high up, I was able to literally watch the storm clouds roll in, slowly sweeping in to surround the city, and I could see the bolts of lightning in the distance spread to become these blinding flashes of white, light right on top of us. I counted the seconds between the lightning flashes and the thunder cracks until they were simultaneous. I watched the rain change from a hazy mist over trees on the horizon to splattering drops lashing against the glass.
sometimes far too often, how incredible God is. All of this is His, you know? The storm, yes, but also the rain dripping down the windowpane and the pebbles on the sidewalk far down below and the warm mug between my hands and the raspberry tea in said mug and even, well, me. Everything is created by Him, belongs to Him, revolves around Him and His purpose. And he’s powerful and awesome, yes, but He’s also beautiful. Thank you, Lord, for the beauty You share with us. Sometimes we can do nothing but sit and drink it all in until we are overwhelmed, speechless.
The whole storm was stunning, and I did take a few pictures below, but they don’t even begin to capture the experience. The first one is near the beginning, when the clouds were beginning to span across the light blue portion of the sky; the second one is blurry, but I managed to catch a lightning bolt; the third is almost useless, but it was pouring at that point and all I got was the reflection of the yellow street lights off all the raindrops; the fourth is of the rain.
I see Your face, You’re beautiful…You’re beautiful…