The Reflections of a Wet Sewer Rat

Dear Readers and Self,

This is a freewrite so please do not be bothered by the lack of structure and/or relevancy.

I spent a very nice evening with a great friend discussing dreams, grad school, Napoleon, and whatever else came to mind. Beer and coffee, talk and turkey burgers with a truly great friend. My walk home was a mite less pleasant. Twenty minutes walking in a summer downpour! It’s ironic that one topic over coffee had been my desire to start swimming again. Blasted big mouth of mine. My sandaled feet splashed through disgusting NYC street run-off water and I had nothing to cover me. If I possessed ESP (like Vincent) then I might have heard passing (dry) drivers in their fast cars wonder if I was an oversized (albeit colorful) sewer rat. Thank Goddess that my tank top was blue and my skirt grey!

This is what my Pandora played for me while I swam:

• Mos Def – Do It Now
• Lil Wayne – Lollipop
• Jay-Z – Dirt Off Your Shoulder
• Heiruspecs – Heartsprings
• Alicia Keys – If I Ain’t Got You
• Kanye West – Get Em High

While part of my mind enjoyed the sounds, another part remembered the rain back home. Today I missed it terribly! Getting caught in the rain in Oregon is inexpressibly refreshing. It’s cooler than New York City and so much cleaner. The rain feels good to the touch. I can’t really describe it. Maybe it feels softer or kinder or friendly. Memories echo with familiar laughter while we run for cover. I remember the scent of wet pavement, damp soil and soaked wind. Can’t forget the pine trees! That’s the smell of home and it’s a blessed thing to breathe. The sky becomes grey and the spectrum of greens darkens a bit but it’s vibrant still! I do miss that rain.

Still, I won’t be ungrateful. I have felt burdened to write but blocked from doing it well. This brutish downpour emboldened me to just put something together. It is good to write even if it is not masterful.

I read this blog entry today that I intend to take to heart. She has vowed to reposition the hater in her head as not just against her but against all women:

“I’m going to consciously banish that creepy, self-hating voice from my head and ask myself each time I want to succumb to it’s[sic] lull if I would say to a fellow woman such awful things.”

I got to practice this idea moments after marveling over it.

My first reaction: “Wow, what a phenomenal way to think about it! How simple but true!”

Second: “Alia, you’re so stupid for not having considered it like this before! How could you be so small-minded!”

Third: “Wait a second here…”

I thank Shelby Knox. Pandora. My great friend. Rain. And the Goddess.