landmines

I am finding and applying to jobs with renewed vigor. The day always drags when one has tedious work to do, but after a shower, lunch, and a few episodes of Arrested Development I have found that the evening is within reach. I always get more work done in the evening and late late into the night because the sun isn't beckoning me to leave the house, do something in this city full of promises. I haven't yet wasted away the day fiddling around with my resume and cover letter. I haven't yet squandered another precious day in this beautiful city. There's still time before it gets dark, and time after that before my eyelids get heavy.

I've been meaning to compose something about this:

I saw a concert last week that summoned the rain and lightning they'd been predicting all week. It was nestled in the bosom of the city, the skyline looking down on the amphitheater, its own gray metal decor stretching up to meet the buildings.

It was a hot day, unusually disgusting actually with humidity so high it felt like a swamp -- not a grassy park by the shores of Lake Michigan. I regretted my decision to wear pants as I plopped down on the grass three hours early to join the line to get in. I rolled up my pants. The humidity persisted as we made our way to seats, gazing expectantly at the music stands, the bright yellow light, and the guitars and drums for the band. Epic, I think, would be a good way to describe the pairing of the classical comfort of violins and flutes with the familiar lyrics and acoustic guitar of one of my favorite bands. Apparently the weather thought so too. It started raining in big drops. Some people took shelter under umbrellas (much to the annoyance of the people sitting behind them); I rolled my eyes at its timing and put my face up to the sky, glad that the cool rain drops had chased away the worst of the day. At times the crash of the cymbals were accompanied by the crash of thunder. And an occasional camera flash was buttressed by a flash of lightning lighting up the sky. It was an energetic and beautiful show with or without the storm, but the rain just made it that much more novel.

The real storm occurred long after the applause, long after the damp fans made their way through the deserted downtown streets to the nearest L stop, long after the lazy train finally pulled up to the station. It was raining in sheets when we detrained. It was dark but the lightning was trying its best to imitate the sun, the thunder trying its best to rival the light show. We ran inside and curled up on the couch with some tea. It wasn't cold enough for tea, but it felt safer somehow.