At around 3am this morning several rounds of thunder broke through my dream state. It was heavy and ominous sounding. I can’t remember whether I was having a good dream or not. What I did realize was that of course there was thunder. It was officially my birthday. And, you know what? It always rains on my birthday. Even in drought-ravaged Los Angeles. It is just my destiny on life to have a rain-soaked birthday.
From an early age, I learned to always carry an umbrella. I learned all the chants to wish the rain away. But here’s the thing. Sure, I don’t like getting all dolled up, blowing out my hair, to only have mother nature frizz it all out. I’m not happy with that. However, I do love jumping in puddles and singing in the rain. If you have never gone puddle jumping, I highly recommend it. Because of all the thunderstorms I’ve experienced weather-wise in my life on my birthday, I’ve always been prepared for the worst. Yet, I still sing in the rain. I was meant to be a sunny curmudgeon. And, those who don’t get that duality of my personality, will miss out on a good fun and dark ride.
I was recently watching many television shows which pay homage to late ’80s or early ’90s songs. And, I was reminded of the song by Garbage called I’m only happen when it rains. It could be construed as depressing but it’s actually a tongue-in-cheek lyrics parodying the typically angst-filled themes of mid-nineties alternative rock. Now, that is so me.
So, the rain fits me. I just need a better rain coat. And, perhaps some sun breakthroughs. Just to round it all out.