The Smell Before Rain

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So. I haven't updated in ages (or what feels like ages) and I do apologize for that. I have a bajillion beauty products I want to share with you but my camera's broken (why, SD card have you left me behind) so those will have to wait. 

When I was younger, I used to absolutely love when it rained. I used to think that I was a water faerie; and to this day, part of me still believes that. I've never been stranded anywhere during a flood and it hardly ever literally "rains on my parade". Back in 2009, when Ondoy happened I wasn't on Taft or anywhere that flooded; I was at the supermarket nursing a hangover. The rain is more often than not on my side.

And yet I find it difficult to love rainy weather nowadays; it's difficult to forgive the rain for what it's done to homes of people who I care about--or well, people in general over the past few years. It's difficult to love rainy weather when I find myself looking out of the bus window and seeing families huddled under melting cartons. It's terribly, terribly sad. 

It makes me even sadder that I no longer find joy in having it rain. I feel the way I did when NU 107 shut down or when they pulled the old South Supermarket out of Alabang Town Center or when I found out that Baskin Robins was no longer operating in the Philippines. There's this interview of Brian Fallon's that I watched once and he said that there are things we need to bury to cross over into adulthood; given the chance, I'd like to ask him what it means when we miss the things we've long buried? Does that make us less adult? Less mature? Or more mature for not being able to bury our hurts? 

Whenever it rains, now there's a silent panic that wasn't there before 2009. Now we're all wondering, as the rain refuses to stop whether or not our city's drowning, again.

I've been listening to The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin a lot lately. It helps me sleep. That guitar bit is just genius. And Robert Plant's voice is amazing.