Hurricane Hunters.

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if there wasn't any sunshine. Always hidden behind a towering and disseminated great oak, caught on the hinges of a perforating sky-scraper, clouds egotistically pocketing its rays. Shadows are all that remind us of this veiled entity, yet go unnoticed to the adjusted commoner.

Every day that I walk out my door, I find myself in the same systematically routine forecast, that is, completely engulfed by the sun's glow, with a parrot customarily squawking in a neighboring tree. By the end of the day, my skin is found a shade darker, and the cosmetic paint on my 24-speed gently losing its luster. The blinds tenderly stir as the air caresses them, rocking in a side-to-side motion. Everyone, every individual, can be found out basking in its glory. Walking their undersized dogs, jogging to the rhythm exuding from their ipods, or marveling in the sensation of sand beneath their feet, individuals feed on the energy and dynamism the sun emits. Without fail and leaving all doubt at the gate, you are not only consistently surrounded by light, but set up for several prearranged human interactions.

As spirited as the warm weather is, I can't seem keep my fleeting thoughts away from the rainy season. There's something about a damp morning, mist entwining with the fabric of your shirt, being pressed softly onto your skin, and fog that obstructs even a 20-20's view. The sound of rain outside your window at night comes with a soothing echo, as it beats down above you and rolls to the earth below. Flowers open up to the gift of life it brings, and I rejoice in the use of my electric blanket. Staying in doesn't seem as estranged, and a lack of desire for even the simplest of discursive motions is a meteorological acceptance.

I feel as if I have been on the same path, over beaten and insolvent, rising with the sun and falling with it. Like a machine, I recharge my batteries at night to fall back into the same lethargic motion, paralleling the systematic forecast. I am the sun.

I burn throughout the day, and find myself sinking into the comfort and coolness of the ocean, its waves rocking me to sleep. I clamber out of its depths each morning, and draw on my mask of luminosity. I'm ready for the rain.

Maybe its because I'm eager for a change. I have an irrational mind, one that cringes at the idea of residing in a certain location for too long. My time here is just about up, and I'm ready for the rains to come, to salute me on my way to the next destination. The earth is slowly rotating about me, as I make my way to another hemisphere. I'm ready to experience the next stage in life - to explore, to dream, to relinquish in the mere concept of getting closer to finding out just exactly who CourtReplies is, and where she belongs. Call me an adventurist, or even an apathetic stability-challenged individual, I know that if all else fails, for now, I can assuredly count on one thing.

A breezy 78 degrees and an exasperating feathered friend. Here's to 295 more revolutions, earth.


Ecclesiastes 2:1-26,
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