Wetlands

What is it with rain? Whenever there’s an emotional scene in movies, you’re bound to have water falling from skies. Heck, if it’s a funeral it’s almost guaranteed to happen if the producers had any sort of budget. But there’s no real reason for this to happen, not one that is widely known or is part of some accepted factoid. Yet this always seems to happen. Is there an underlying psychology that would trigger the fountain of the eye to burst and cover your face in waterworks? Does it work in a similar manner to how people with strong empathy start to cry automatically when witnessing someone else open up the floodgates? Truth be told, I have no idea and I cannot even research this at the moment of typing this, simply because I have no internet. What a bummer.

In general, I think weather does have some sort of influence on the mind, but it’s not as clear cut as a math equation. Despite this, somehow it’s become a cliche, that a rainy environment equals sadness. Which is odd, considering rain-forests and rainy seasons exist, and I don’t see people go full on depressed. Not from this at least, especially when they’re already mopey to begin with. However, I did have co-workers who had become quite lethargic during cloudy days, but I think it was mostly because of the lack of light and harder visibility. In fact, it was more of a “bitchy” attitude that took over their persona.

“This is such a non-weather.”

“Man, today feels disgusting.”

“Fucking can’t see jack shit.”

Now this has always bugged me a bit, as I personally had no qualms about rain as long as it wasn’t a literal typhoon, force feeding you rainwater as you tried to cross the road, holding onto your drenched bag that had more or less doubled in weight from soaking it up too much. In fact, I enjoy rain in a casual manner.

I have vivid memories of when I was a child, sitting in a classroom, enjoying the grayish, sometimes even full on dark environment that the so called “bad weather” had brought with itself. I also remember the teacher getting mad at me for not paying attention in class and throwing chalk in my general direction, most of which I’ve managed to dodge, worsening the situation. Good times.

But that’s the thing: I have always enjoyed cloudy weather, as much if not more than when the sun shone brightly, burning out my retinas, peeling off my skin as if I was some sort of heavily spiced grilled chicken. This is apparently weird though, as the average Joe is pretty much appalled when thinking of rain and praising it. Let alone, calling it calming. Yet to me it’s just that: something which relaxes me and gives me peace.

It’s also something very inspiring: Recently we’ve had the typical snotty spring weather and it not only reminded me of an old story I wrote, but also gave me an idea for another one. It’d be cool to say that I’ve actually started working on it, but I don’t count having a title productive enough. I’m simply just not there. Well, give it one more week I’ll have something short.

Or not. You never know with me.