I love any reason that brings me home. Even when I’m tired to the bone, I can’t help but light up knowing that I have a plane ride to catch back to my sunny Southern California. Well, the days have been more gloomy and rainy than anything else lately, but I don’t mind. Either way, I slip into a special routine here; one that involves much more reading and writing and watching of films. The hours spread out farther and farther apart from each other so that self reflection and building up of the imagination can’t help but be inevitable. I’m happy during simple, easy going days like these. It’s like the year I turned 16, and I dedicated my days to the reading of books. I’d spend hours lying in the hammock in the backyard of our home, with no other care in the world except to escape reality for a little while into the whirlwind plot of the novel resting against my legs.
In this moment, I wish that I could freeze in time those rainy, lazy days that I experienced during my holiday break last month. I wish I could let them linger until I get antsy to get back to regular programming again. California feels different went it rains and you start to forget what tone of blue that the sky usually is. The palm trees look cleaner and almost sparkling against the grey backdrop. Out of place in an interesting way that makes you look twice. Paces slow down to something that can be described as beautifully melancholy, and everyone prefers to take on the life of a homebody. California on a rainy day makes me nostalgic. And it makes me more emotional, that’s for sure. Over stupid little things even. Missing my boyfriend seems a bit more tough sometimes. Figuring out a plan for my life as I near 30, a bit too intimidating. All these thoughts and feelings, spilling over inside of me, like the rain drops that gather in hidden nooks. It seems there’s more and more reasons to cry about things, both happy or sad. And being the extroverted introvert that I am, I am constantly being pulled between spilling my heart out to everyone I call a best friend and keeping all my secrets to myself . . . that is, until I am able to fully explain my thoughts out in words. Pen to paper (or fingertips to computer screen) is how I’ve always felt that I expressed myself the best. But when I was younger, I always wished the opposite . . that I could be the one kid in class who had the nerve to be the first to raise her hand in class and answer all the questions. Instead, I preferred to keep all my answers in a notebook for my teacher to read later. But as I get older, I take pride in the fact that I can write. Not that I’m really any that great at it. If I was, maybe I would have written a novel or two by now. No, I take pride in embracing what comes most natural to me. To stand up for it and not keep it hidden, no matter what the judgment of others is.
Thank you rainy California days for giving me the comforts of home, and slowing me down so I can keep a rhythm with my words in tune with the sound of the raindrops that are so unexpected out of your skies. You are keeping this girl in her vintage dress and nubby sweater as sane as one can be in the midst of a January that seems to be slipping away far too fast.
california, Fashion, Outfits, style, Writing