Whelk in a Supernova

Shift_Life

It's a bit of poetic irony that I drive a Nissan these days. Not to mention, one that doesn't warm up. I find it hilarious, in my own, slightly torqued, strangely comfortable mindset. I find myself writing these things simply because I can, and simply for my own memories, later down the road.

One of my favorite, most complex, feelings is the one you get when a major storm has just passed. In the paraphrased words of Terry Pratchett, you see that everything is fresh and new, yet you still have the feeling of a tremendous amount of energy that has just been spent nearby. It's that feeling you get when you walk outside, and you see bits of wood strewn about, huge hailstones on the ground, smashed windows, large amounts of rainwater gushing their way industriously down the curb to the nearest drain, and you turn around and see the deep gray-blue sky, and even the rainshafts, which appear to be no more than a hundred yards away from you, and yet, there is sunshine. Sunshine streaming through the clouds, illuminating the leaves which have been forcefully exiled from their native trees, playing with the wind which was only moments ago tearing through the area without mercy.

I love storms, and it's a sad feeling that the storm is over. I love hearing the wind and rain pounding on the house, stressing the foundation, making the blood run nervously through the veins while your hair stands up in anxiety (or merely from the static charge of nearby lightning). I love watching a gust front move in, when you see the clouds coming in and you get the feeling that you're sure that man in Independence Day got when he was on the White House lawn when the aliens shot the big fireball explosion thing; the feeling that you're about to get hit with something that's much bigger than you; something that doesn't care about you, and something that sees you as merely a speck of dust. I love that feeling.

When it's all over, and the storm has passed, I love the feeling of a 'new beginning', which sounds horribly poetically cliche (which it really is), but the idea still stands (in my estimation, things only become cliche because they are true, and so many people agree). So, when you walk out of the house, and see the mess, and see the sunshine, it stirs a feeling of joy.

Then you realize that you have to help everyone clean up this mess, there's no internet connection, and your dog is stuck in the tree, right next to the Toyota.