Rain

I like rain. In fact, I love it. Rain smells. It smells musty but clean, feels gritty yet smooth, and touches you cold and ticklishly. It washes away when you need to feel refreshed, and blankets you closely when you need to stew. I say this now because I live in Los Angeles and the rain is so rare, it's a blessing when it occurs. Tonight is Christmas Eve 2013. 2013 was supposed to be THE year. The year of career changes, artistic leaps, of marriage, all of which never happened. And it's around this time that the pot gets stirred. On the brink of a new year, one must face your own reality, your successes and your failures, live with it, learn from it, enjoy it, let go and move on. But there's no rain, so I have to do it for myself.

It's funny because looking back on old posts, I only seemed to post when something "big" was happening in my life. And yet I called myself a writer. I wasn't. I didn't write, I complained. Or I aspired. And that's what so many people do. They waste their energy and blow wind and talk about accomplishments hoped for or otherwise without ever doing. It's possible I could be one of those people. The first step in remedying a problem is recognizing you have one right? I love the rain. I'm getting out of L.A. for a bit to head to an even sunnier town, Phoenix. But I have a smart phone, and I can look up photos of the rain. I wrote yesterday. I write today. I will write tomorrow. Slowly, I will become a writer. Perhaps I'll even change my career, or make amends with the ex. One day, one letter, one sentence, one post at a time.