It's been a while. For some reason in the last few months, even when I have felt inclined to write something in here I have been too lazy to actually sit and do so.
It's been a few weeks since arriving in California, and by extension a few weeks since I've seen a drop of rain. I had always heard that it's sunny pretty much every day in Southern California, but I think that I did not actually believe or comprehend it. The general concensus among the new people here is that, even if they don't find Irvine palatable, they still love the weather.
On the other hand, as the weeks pass, I am ever aware that I am missing my good old-fashioned Northeast autumn. I imagine that the leaves are beginning to turn back home. My parents have complained in the last couple of days that it's grown quite chilly. I envy them, and walk around every day here perceiving the marked absence of the smell of people beginning to burn their fireplaces around dusk on fall evenings.
I guess most people think I'm crazy, but I really miss bad weather. I went rollerblading at Newport Beach last week on the only mildly cloudly and cool day that we've had since I arrived. A middle aged man in a wetsuit with a surf board told me I'd come a long way and apologized for the weather, said that I should've gone the day before.
"No, today's perfect," I answered.
It's like something that "The Russian" said on a late episode of Sex and the City-- I like New York. It's honest. It doesn't wear a big, fake smile.
And it's so true. New York (among other places) isn't afraid to show its moody side. Sometimes it can be really fucking harsh with you. It can go days on end crying all over your designer t-shirt. You can freeze to death on your 30 minute walk to work or bake when Con Edison shuts the electricy off in your building so that the rest of the city won't have a blackout. New York is like someone an old, comfortable relationship, and I really appreciate that kind of honesty.
But a rainy day in New York is magic anyway. On a typical rainy fall weekend day, I'll wake up too late because the sun does not shine in your eyes. I know the weather without looking outside, from the distinct sound of tires rolling over wet pavement that accompanies normal traffic sounds. Perhaps I go with my room mate or meet a friend at Little Poland restaurant or Wavery diner for some eggs and french fries, none of us having taken the time to shower because of the crappy weather. Emily and Layla are smart and wear rubber boots. The bottom of my pants are wet and muddy.
I return home meaning to do homework but fall asleep instead. E! entertainment network might be playing in the background, and the next thing you know it's 6 or 7 o'clock and I've done nothing. It occurs to me that maybe I should stay in and work. After all, it's crappy outside.
But a rainy New York night following a rainy New York day is like the spring. While the streets were relatively bare during the day, you can tell around 8 or 9 o'clock that people want to peek their heads out of their little dens and step timidly into the world.
Sure, it's still raining, but we've been in all day and it's been so long since we've stayed in on a Saturday night we don' t even know what's on network television during this time slot any more. And from the look of the street lights and neon bar signs reflecting on the wet pavement, I know that there's romance and adventure to be had.
