A Little Creative Spark: A Storm at 4000ft

I love storms. I've always been interested in weather. And, for a good portion of my life, thanks to Twister, I wanted to be a storm chaser. I'm not crazy though. I don't look to get struck by lightning whenever there is a storm. For the most part, I try to stay safe. I've never been scared of a storm though... until this summer.

I attribute that fear to a couple things 1) it was dark outside, 2) I was alone, and 3) I was in a tent. In any case, it got me writing a creative piece that has a little bit of me, and a little bit of my fear speaking (maybe I'm just losing my nerve). I named that character Franny... because I couldn't think of anything better. :]

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The thunder shook the earth. The lightning seemed to be striking close. Unnervingly close. It's to be expected, Franny thought. At 4000ft elevation, there wasn't much atmosphere for the lightning to have to travel through, and the thunder could easily be twice as loud here as she ever thought it was at home.

 

Granted. While she was at home, she was usually inside the house or on the porch, rather than in a tent, but this is what she chose for herself.

 

She grew up in the city, and knew it quite well, but something inside her always yearned for the outdoors, and for nature, and to be consumed by it.

 

"Well, you're consumed by it now," she muttered to herself. She didn't very well like storms. Sure, they were exciting... if you liked the whole heart pounding in your chest- scared to death sort of thing.

 

Well not Franny, thank you very much. She just as well would have liked to be home right now. In the warm and dry with a cup of tea, or hot chocolate, or maybe just some dang company to make her feel a little bit more secure. She glanced at her watch, lighting it up with a convenient push of a button.

 

"It's not even 9," she complained to herself. She wasn't tired, nor did she have much to do in the current state of weather.

 

She could write in her journal, or read a book... re-read the same book she had already read 4 times now on this trip.

 

Franny sighed, laying her head down on the pillow. Staring up at her tent ceiling, she tried to locate where each individual rain drop fell. It was distracting at least. Until the next bit of lightning flashed so bright she could only see white, and swore it could've made her blind. Quickly followed by one of the loudest, shaking booms of thunder, she shrieked and pulled her pillow over her head to try to block everything out.

 

It worked when she was at home, and too stressed to function. She figured it could work now, to at least give her a sense of home and comfort.



Befriending Irony

I always forget an umbrella when it rains. Every time. If it is a sunny, beautiful day, my umbrella weighs down my bag, laughing at me with Irony. Then, when it does rain, it happens to be the day I decide: carrying around a heavy umbrella is futile. Oh Irony, how you must take pleasure in my life.

One day last summer, I was waiting at the trolley stop. I was wearing a nice dress and was going into town to meet with some friends. The sun shone, the work day had gone by quickly, it was a Friday and the day could not seem to get any better. I boarded the trolley and was off for an adventure with my friends. The trolley went underground; I transferred to the subway (the much less glamorous form of public transit) and continued on my way.

Finally getting off the hot, crowded train, I took to the stairs anxious to be welcomed back into the sunlight. I knocked myself for ever reflecting on how wonderful and sunny the day was… I should have known that it was only a matter of time before Irony felt the need to check up on me.

Sheets of rain poured down from the sky. Buckets in the clouds seemed to just overflow and dump out onto me. I did not want to take that first step out into the street. I saw businessmen sprinting with their briefcases over their heads, people trying to use a newspaper as shelter. I had a purse… with no umbrella in it.

People pushed by me from the subway exit as I debated whether or not I should ditch my friends, go home and apologize later. Just as I was turning around to reenter the subway, a man accidentally bumped me, pushing me out from underneath my shelter: instantly drenched. So much for decision making, clearly Irony had already made plans for me. I felt like I was being manipulated into going on a date, and just could not say no.

I walked down streets, water dripping off my nose, muttering to myself and ranting about my hatred for Irony and Irony’s love for me.

I arrived at the coffee shop, where my friends said to meet. Maybe I was early. The shop was slowly filling up as college students got out of their summer classes. I shook my head at myself, thinking about all the people walking by looking at me right now: drenched and sipping on my tea…alone. I let 14 minutes pass before I looked at my phone to see 3 texts all saying the same thing:

“Weather’s bad, we’ll reschedule.”

As I sat there, I realized that I had not been sitting by myself at all. Irony was sipping on a latte beside me with a big grin slapped on his face.

Well played Irony, well played.

On the CONTRAry

Eight seconds. That’s how long he has to make an impression. Promenade; hands link, he leads her. 1, 2, 3, 4… he can smell her hair as he twirls her into the position for the next call, 5, 6, 7, 8, and he hands her off  as the ladies chain. She smiles as she swings, 2, 3, 4, locking eyes with her partner. Jealousy clouds his eyes as he easily moves to the rhythm of the fiddle, 5, 6, 7, 8.

She is taken for the rest of the night, he’s sure: partners lined up one right after another. He lost his chance. Circle to the left, 3, 4, 5, 6. His eight seconds to win her over were not enough. Though he was quick on his feet dancing, making conversation was a little different, 7, 8. Allemande right, 4, 5.

He searches the dance hall for a partner as the caller announces the next song,. Futile, his eyes can only focus on her, 6, 7, 8. The music begins, he has a chance in the line to dance with her, but it is only a moment, only eight seconds until she’s gone again.

Their eyes meet as partners balance and swing, 5, 6. Her face is flushed from the exercise, blushed from the movement, 7, 8. She smiles, 6, 7 and turns to circle left breaking the eye contact, 8. The music ends, he thanks his partner, claps for the band and goes to find a new partner, hiding the disappointment as he sees her accept the hand of her next suitor. And the music starts, 7, 8… and the music ends. There is a break before the last dance. He goes to the punch bowl. She is there.

“Are you not going to dance the final contra?” He asked, surprised she was not still being fought over.

“On the Contrary,” 1, 2, 3, 4, “I was just waiting for you to ask.” And they danced, 5, 6, 7, 8.

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I absolutely love Contra Dancing. My friend introduced me to it in March of 2011. It is a great way to meet new people, dance (even if you are a terrible dancer!), and have fun. I won't say I haven't met my fair share of awkward dances, neighbors, partners, because I definatley have (even in just a year), but at the end of the dance, I usually agree with myself that it was worth it.

If you want to find a dance in your area go Here. And if you want to learn some dance moves before you go (although you usually don't have to) search them on Youtube, or check out this worksheet.

If you're in the Boston Area, might I recommend BIDA?