I know April showers bring May flowers, but it's officially May and it looks like it's about to storm pretty hard here. As Chicagoans we all get very excited for warm weather. Restauranteurs eagerly put out tables and chairs on sidewalks (even when it's just 50 degrees), convertibles appear from out of hibernation, and people begin wearing shorts and flip-flops. But when it rains, the exciting buzz that accompanies the warm rays of sunshine creeps its way back indoors, as we all go about our ho-hum lives for a while longer.
Something about rain makes me analyze things more. I like to listen to depressing music and contemplate the difficulties or ambiguities of life. Elton John said it (or sang it I guess)--sad songs say so much. There's something about this melancholy state of being that takes over during a rainstorm , and it seems to be almost enjoyable, oddly enough.
Is it just me? Unless it was something pre-planned, I'll likely avoid a cheery activity. I much prefer to brood over a glass of wine. To drive my car a long distance, listening to sad music while it sprinkles outside. To rent a movie that is about unrequited love. To visit an art museum by myself and slowly take in each of the especially tragic pieces.
And somehow, amongst this strange, dark attitude, I'm a little happier--and the next sunny day I'm back to beautiful frivolity.
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