Well the weather that has been ravaging the midlands has now made its way to the east coast. I left my window open for some fresh air last night and awoke to the pit pat of the rain on the cherry blossom tree outside my window. The sloshing sound of cars whizzing by the house resonated in my head as I rose to shut of my alarm clock. Rubbing the exhaustion from the weekend away from my eyes I could hear our newly adopted cat outside my door screaming for attention. I think she is in heat right now and thus has become quite the nuisance.

I slowly shuffled my way towards the bathroom and readied the shower, hoping that the flowing water would wash away the petulance that had hung over me this weekend. But it will be another kind of falling water that I pray will wash over me. Normally the weekend is when I catch up on my sleep and go out with friends, but this weekend rest came at a premium. As I said I was feeling rather petulant and instead of sleeping and enjoying the company of friends I fancied stewing on my negative attitude and staying up until the we hours of the morning.

It all started Friday afternoon, when a co-worker of mine decided to tell me repeatedly one of three choice sayings. a) Fuck off. b) Fuck myself. c) Your an immature asshole, go fuck yourself. Now I can not claim that there was no provocation for this at all, however in the workplace I find that my co-workers choice of words was rather unprofessional and bordering on harassment. After some coaxing and inquiry I came to surmise that the cause of all this hostile confrontation came form earlier in the day when I had offered said co-worker a cigarette. Now I know he is a die hard Libertarian (or blithering, ignorant, know it all cunt as I like to refer it) who despises smoking,  he is also always the first to dispense the interoffice banter. Thus I figured this was kind of cheeky and that there was no harm in a small innocent joke. Boy was I wrong. Obviously, he can dish it out but can’t take it.  But what really gets on my tits is that what I did was in no way malicious or hurtful or particularly bent towards him, unlike his normal intention. Maybe I’m wrong but I just don’t see it. He on the other hand is always making wise cracks about my nationality, my sexuality, or my youth. Constantly he remarks about my ability to know Chinese(which I know a bit but I am fucking Korean) or that my love for football makes me gay, or that because I am young I must be ignorant. Most of the time I let these things slide, airing on the side that he is a miserable twat and why get into it with him, it’s normally just not worth it. But this indiscretion was the last straw. To see the anger and the hate in his eyes. The contempt and disrespect in his voice. The violence in his actions. All of this really just got to me. I am normally a rather calm person, but this got to me. I could feel the red mist rising up from the depths of my soul, the weight off all the things said to me over time bubbling up to a head, ready to burst. I could have killed him at that moment, and in my thoughts I did. Over and over, in the sleepless hours this weekend, I imagined a way in which I could get across to a man who can not be reasoned with, a child who is inconsolable. The only thing I came up with was to beat the ever living piss out of him. In…………..and then out………a deep breath is taken and this cool rain that is sweeping over the east coast will so cool my soul and wash away the anger induced from my co-worker. Today is a new day and this wonderfully cool rain brings new a blossoming.

Terrible co-worker man was not the only one keeping me up this weekend, and that incident was not the only reason I love this bone chilling weather. It’s her again. I received a few more emails this weekend, updates on her condition. The prognosis it seems is not good. In fact it is bad to the point where hospice was mentioned. She would not want me to worry, to lose sleep over this, but it can not be helped. I am glad though that he is there, she needs him. I wish it was me that meant so much or that could provide that bit of respite form the pain that has stricken her. But I am glad he is there. Even if he wont return my emails, and despite the fact that I stopped writing because I know my words will not reach her, I am glad she has him. I don’t dare imagine what it would be like to be in her skin, for I know that even in my wildest dream I could not comprehend what would ease the pain of a soul having to endure what she is going through. But I reason that I would want him too. And for that I am happy he is there. I probably won’t get that phone call she had promised to try and make, but like I have wrote before all was said that needs to be said. And I spend many sleepless nights praying for her. This rain feels really good.

I am looking out my widow and I swear that I can actually see the grass grow as it drinks up this cool drink form the heavens. I imagine that if I lie down in it and drink up this cool rain, that I too could grow. Or maybe the grass would consume me and take me back to this earth. And then one day I would sprout and grow back reaching towards the heavens. Ascending to a place where I know a bit more clam and things aren’t so tempestuous. Or maybe this cool rain is just enough to refresh my world so far.