Playing in my head: "Never be the Same" by Red
Today my host mother told me there is a typhoon coming and by Thrusday it should be at its full force. But she also said it's not something to fear or be too worried for. She assured me they are nothing like hurricanes and happen often although the one coming is suppose to be large. It'll rain for days until its tired itself out and be gone with the rest of the wind. So she just smiled and said, "don't worry". So I'm not.
Somehow today I felt that the rain made me think of a lot of things in my life. Rain always makes me think that way. It's pouring down like nobody's business and just goes on and on and on. I hate rain because it ruins my hair and makes everything just moist and damp. It ruins perfectly good days and makes me do laundry more often, especially when I have to ride to school in it. I love it in stories because it creates a mood all by itself and washes away while at the same time starts something new. I use it all the time in my writing and enjoy a good storm inside a book. But for me, myself, and I who has no amazing happenstances to occur in it, I just hate it.
But today I looked out the window and somehow didn't really hate it. It made me just feel right. It's a pretty twisted feeling considering it didn't particularly make me feel good or bad. Just right. Rain follows me around it seems, but when it's here, it's just part of this place I suppose. So much of my life feels that way.
Just like miso soup.
My host father came home late cause its his long work day and he is drinking miso soup while I got ready to wash up for the night. And I thought it'd be nice to have some right then and there. But that's just how it is. Sometimes I can drink the salty soup with whatever its got in it, whether that be tofu or mushrooms, and genuinely enjoy its acquired taste. But then some days I can't even stand to let the bitter flavor touch my tongue much less go down to my stomach. So much of me is that way. And now that I'm sitting here while it pours outside, I'm wondering if my life is always going to be like that bowl of miso soup.
And of course with a side order of rain outside and Tohoshinki singing in the background through my headphones. Some things just follow me it seems. That and a hazel eyed boy that stands across the street holding an umbrella looking angry at me for not sharing it with him. Or maybe that's just a dream.