6:00 AM: I do not need what I don't want

I used to have a mantra; "It can't rain all the time." It was a sort of metaphor for, you know, thing will get better eventually.

Well, apparently I was mistaken. Obviously it can rain all the time, and has done so this summer. It's clear this ridiculous, neverending weather pattern has had some lasting effect on my mood, even though I've improved a great deal over the last week or so. A friend asked how my life was, and I told her the rain was a "dumb, obvious metaphor for my life."

It's not all bad, really; in fact, I have to admit it's getting better (getting better all the time.) I got some good news on the school registration front, where I was advised on how to rectify my latest problems (pertaining to my delayed registration for Subject POSt.) So that's looking up and there looks to be a good chance I'll actually be registered for classes tomorrow. Finally, right? Hasn't this storyarc been thrilling? And now I can move on to denouement. Sheesh, my life is dull.

So yeah; rain. Yesterday morning, a typical Wednesday. It looked okay out (which I should've taken to mean rain was imminent,) so I went out, as usual, for comics. Call me a re-re if you must, because I knew it was going to rain... I heard in on the radio "We'll be seeing some showers around noon." The comic store doesn't even open until noon. Brazenly, I brushed the warnings off because: fuck. For weeks now I've been putting off going to the comic store on Wednesdays because of rain. I was fucking sick of it. Too repetitive. I was rebelling.

So I set out on my bike. As always, I got there way early and went for coffee and sat by the lake, admiring the amazing dark fucking storm clouds. I laughed; oh, life. Rain. Always. Whatever.

By the time it was noon and I got to the shop, the sky was a darker shade of gray. I quickly grabbed my comics and noted to Rich the owner, "Man, I'm gonna get caught in that." He shrugged and gave me some very important advice. "It's just water." True enough.

Who knows what the difference is between water in your shower, water in a pool, and water from the sky. It's a bit colder, and you're wearing clothes, but it's not going to burn your skin (probably.) So As the first few droplets hit, here's what I did. I took my socks off and put them in my backpack. Why? Because goddamn if all the times I've been caught in the rain, the worst part wasn't wet socks. The other thing I did was put on my jacket; I'm not sure that was important but I love that jacket and I so rarely get to wear it.

Except you know, when it rains. Which is basically every day.

Thus prepared, I hopped in my bike and sped the hell down Kerr Street getting fuckin' drenched all the way along. Funny thing about glasses for those of you who don't wear 'em (or wear contacts, charlatans,) is that when you race down a street on a bike in the pouring rain, they tend to, um, fog up and collect droplets, as well as trapping some spray in your eyes. So yeah, I was squinty and half-blind, barreling down the sidewalk of Kerr Street, and down the steep slope of Speers. By the time I got to the QEW (yeah, I actually biked up Cross) I was drenched. I hid out under the path for a while until the rain tapered off to nothing. I could feel the water sloshing around my feet as I pedalled.

I must really like comics.

Not much going on these days beyond that. I had to go get a propane refill tonight, only a few days after a massive propane-related explosion in Toronto, the most sensational explosion story since Halifax Harbour.

I have other thoughts, but I've gotten so ungodly distracted in the course of this entry it's 3:00 AM and I oughtta go to bed.

Night lal. Keep on rockin'
-Scotto