Spoiled is walking into my local Starbucks and not having my name called out when my order is ready. I nod returning the baristas’ smiles in greeting as they acknowledge my presence upon entering. Once D and M, with my coffee and breakfast sandwich respectively, see my name on the label they each walk over to their side of the counter closest to where I stand and hand my order directly to me. I hoist my purchase in thanks to each as they laugh at my serious head-banging to the music my iPod. The final notes of The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” is clearly not the mellow tune regaling the customers over the store’s speakers at that moment. Still, I overhear this cheeky college girl near me talking with a friend, “Check out She Who Shall Not Be Named.”
I slowly turn my head and smile, letting her know I heard. I think I smile charmingly,
Tom Hiddleston, normal smile
but considering I have not had time to indulge in my coffee yet, it is very likely it came off as menacingly, for she blinks rapidly and takes an unconscious step back. I hear D behind me start to speak up “Girl, shut up.”
“Rai, don’t. Trust me, she’s not worthy of your wrath.” M chimes in at the same time. I turn to her fully, this time knowing my smile is all sorts of wrong.
Tom Hiddleston, evil grin
With the opening whispers of Drowning Pool’s “Bodies” now in my ears, I choose to heed the discretion is route of M’s advice and leave.
Note: from my entrance to my exit, I had not uttered a single word.
Let’s see how others are getting through this Hump Day:
This is the view out of the window of my bus on the way home this evening. It is pretty much the same view as on my way to work this morning. Unsurprisingly, I’ve had nothing but rain related tunes going through the iPod of my mind. So please indulge or forgive as today’s slice is a rainy day playlist of some of the songs that flitted my through this wasteland called my cranium in true cornball Raivenne fashion:
The Bref Double has four stanzas – 3 quatrains (4-line stanzas) and 1 couplet (or 2-line stanza). It carries three rhymes, an A rhyme, B rhyme, and C rhyme. There is no set line length, but the lines should be consistent within each poem. The order of the rhyme varies, but the A and B rhymes must appear twice within the first 3 stanzas and once each in the couplet, while the C rhyme is the final line in each of the quatrains.
Rhymes can be as follows: xaxc xbxc xbac ba, xabc xxxc xabc ab, abxc abxc xxxc ab, xabc xaxc xbxc ab etc.
Snow on brownstone steps / Puddle jumping in the rain
Question asked on Facebook:
Which do you like most Rain or Snow? And why?
As beautiful as fresh fallen snow is to look at, play in, ski-sled-snowboard through (and it really is beautiful) — shoveling that stuff later is a bitch, even with a snow blower. Depending upon location, enough snow can bring some cities/town to a grinding halt for days-weeks-months. If you are a city dweller, it all turns into slush; which is just nasty (especially when it is yellow). Then, there is the wait while it melts and refreezes over night (and depending on the amount –repeats the process), causing dangerous driving and walking conditions. As it melts, it may cause floods, even days later. Not to mention, since it’s usually winter when it snows, it tends to be – you know, c-c-c-cold.
Therefore, I say give me rain.
A slow walk in warm spring rain.
The delight of a sudden sun-shower.
Forgetting you are an adult for a moment and jumping in a puddle.
Cuddling while watching a thunderstorm from the window (or the bed).
The sound of rain falling on a tin roof.
Even at its worst, even with flooding that may take days/weeks to clean, once it finally stops raining, it’s over.
I like the feel of the rain upon my face. A thousand drops of water from outer space. Everyone says I’m just getting wet. To me it is the best feeling I have come across yet. Falling just hard enough to be felt; caressing me with its gentle pelt.
A couple walks damp streets on a lovely early spring evening that has slowly segued into an equally lovely if rainy night. No rainy was not the right word. Misty; it was that misty rain that you could not see unless you were looking at the drops break the surface of whatever puddles have gathered about. Enough to make you wet if you stayed in it for any duration, yet not enough to warrant use of an umbrella. They talk, joke and tease, as any young couple still in the early stages will do as they learn about one another. On a twist of etiquette, she walks him home. She convinces him that it was still early enough that she would be fine for the ten or so blocks from his place to hers. Still she promises to call once she’s home to assuage his fears. She is not going to be your average girl and he knows it. They exchange a brief kiss goodnight and he shakes his head musing on the role reversal as he heads in.
She walks a few yards when gut instinct alone makes her turn around suddenly. They both jump in surprise. He at quickness at which she spun on him and she at just how close he was to her before she sensed him. Hands in their respective pockets they stand close to each other, very close. Almost imperceptibly, their heads instinctively turn slightly askance as they lean into each other. Each feels the heat of the breath of the other play along their respective lips, but there is no other contact between them. They stay that way for a long moment, exchanging breaths, before leaning away. Somehow breathless from the exchange, the chill that runs down both spines had nothing to do with the mist falling upon their faces, gentle as the kiss they didn’t exchange. Eyes stare questioning and answering, answering and questioning in complete silence. Finally, they both turn and walk to their respective homes. Somehow they both knew, in that moment of saying nothing yet saying everything, they had just crossed that magical line past friendship into something much deeper and they were truly and completely fucked!
Nearly a decade later, as Bill and I walked off the dance floor at a friend’s wedding, a cousin asks why did it always looked like we were making love when we were slow dancing. I, always the flippant one, quickly responded because we are. Our cousin looked at us befuddled before Bill continues on my comment by adding there are ways to make love that don’t involve sex; like kissing without kissing in a spring rain. I blinked and stared at him. That night was something never before mentioned between us until just that moment. I honestly thought he had forgotten about it though, I guess, I should have known better. I blushed and then I grinned. I have no idea what was the look that passed between he and I at that moment, but I do know our cousin sucked her teeth and walked away saying we needed to “get a room!”
Sunday night as I walked home in an early spring misty rain, those two memories, now intertwined as one, came to me. Now Monday morning, I am left to wonder if I will be blessed enough to feel anything even close to that ever again.