on cutting ties and rainy nights.

So being here in west Texas has some advantages. You know most of your neighbors, and in this small a town, you know most everyone. The people are warm, the beer is cold, and the sunsets are almost unbeatable (I still have to see Hawaii's before I can declare an official winner in that category, so anyone who'd like to take me, I clearly have important research afoot).
That being said, the weather here lately has been pretty amazing. Beautiful, sunny days, cool but "not too cool" nights, and with relative consistence. But here lately, we've been getting a lot of rain. Anyone from this area will tell you quickly how good of a thing that really is, since last year was one of the driest on record for the state.
But what's strange, I guess, to me anyway, is the hour that these storms keep coming in. It's never early in the day, or late in the afternoon. Lately these little hurricanes are liking to hit after midnight almost every time. It can be a bright, beautiful day, and 'round come 12:45am it's Hurricane Katrina around here (minus the looting and whatnot).

I'm not really complaining about it, but the recent weather game me plenty of justification for not bringing a jacket to work; an idea that stood the test of reason. I mean, it was nearly 90 degrees out if not more this afternoon. I'm no meteorologist, but it's damn sure in the 50's/40's out there now, and with that sort of difference it's starting to really play hell on my allergies. I can be fine for a few minutes, and 20 minutes later it looks like I got into a face-stinging fight with bees. Big, vicious bees. With horns!

(no horns)
easy breathers, count yourselves blessed. Because we all despise your sorry ass.

Recently did something I've been needing to do for a long, long time. My ex and I had remained cordial for a long time. He's "the" ex. the one you think about too often sometimes, causing you to go into melancholic, "i just want to listen to sad acoustic music about love and hurt and cry" sort of state after you break up.
We both played this passive-aggressive game of insisting we only wanted each other's friendship, but it was obvious at times that we missed one another. We'd add one another of facebook, then block the shit out of each other so we didn't see what "life" was like. I think we started with genuineness to try a real friendship, but sometimes there's so much history there, so much angst, that you can't just go back to a normal place. We were keeping each other from being able to move on; at least I know that's true for me. I allowed myself to think that I was still in love. Hell, some days I still feel that way. And as such, I allowed myself to become infatuated with the fantasy of him instead of the reality; the reality being that we fought like cats and dogs and constantly made each other feel less-than. But that's the reality, not the fantasy. The fantasy has no flaws, only beautiful smiles and soft, remembering eyes. And that's not the truth.
And it's my fault. It wasn't Sean's doing; he's been 250 miles away for years now, and we haven't even seen one another since 2007. What's more is I often discounted or straight-up lied about my feelings a lot of the time. I missed him, and often. Many times I just wanted to call and talk, but we both had our guard up in those instances. We tried to make "friends" work, but in the end, we probably only did more damage.
But the last 6 months or so, I've had to really grow up beyond my wants. We don't need each other anymore. He's moved to Oregon and is happy, and I'm weeks away from doing the same in Austin. So why hold on to a crutch that only ends up hurting just to feel *something* toward the person? I found myself getting angry at Sean for living. For setting his goals and achieving them. Angry at a person I haven't seen in years, at a person I don't even know.
And angry, not for something he actually did, but for something that I allowed the thought of him to do to me. He's essentially the guy you don't know flicking his lighter on the train, and you're pissed off at him because you just quit smoking. Sure, he's got a piece of what you want, of what you're missing. He may have it forever. But that doesn't mean you try to do hurt or insult them in response. It means you let it go, grow beyond it, and allow it to be the soil that grows you.
There is a lot of bullshit in the bottoms of the most intricate, amazing gardens. They have to grow out of something, and maybe that's the lesson: the soiled parts of life sometimes serve as the best fertilizer for a whole new life. It feeds you wisdom and drains you of your bitterness.
Or it would, if the fucking rain would stop.