The Final Downpour

It’s my last week, at least for this year, in Charlottesville. I won’t say it’s my last week EVER in Charlottesville, because I already said that when I left this place in the summer. And look what happened. So, this time I’ll just settle with "this week is my last week in Charlottesville for the rest of the year".

It’s expected to rain for the rest of the week. I should listen to the weather reports, cover myself, wear clothes that I wont be sorry to get wet, or at least carry an umbrella. But it’s sort of exciting to ignore weather reports. I mean, if I were to follow every crazy weather report, I wouldn’t ever be able to wear the clothes I want to wear, or go outside with the excitement of not knowing what to expect. Plus, I've always doubted weather forecasts; after all, the weatherman is only human and it’s quite possible that he’s wrong with his predictions. Who is he kidding? He’s not God - the Supreme and the Ultimate - who can substitute, with the blink of an eye, clouds full of moisture with the scorching heat of the sun.

But in all seriousness, that's one reason why I love this place: you never know what to expect, from the weather or the people (more on why I love this place later). Plus, who wants to carry an umbrella and worry about losing it at some point during the day, when there are so many other important things to carry or worry about. For example, carrying the baggage of your past relationships, or your thoughts on a conversation with an unfriendly acquaintance; or worrying about why a certain someone didn’t bother to send you an email, or why never a day goes by without you witnessing the familiar face of a pretentious shallow fag.

Or just carrying the unbearable load of the question that slithers venomously, with the intensity of a forestfull of snakes, inside your head: Why the HELL am I still single?

If you are somewhat religious, like I am, then you should know how man's conscience forces him to purge himself from daily routine tensions and every lustful idea that touches the brink of his naturally immaculate mind. Therefore, seeking atonement, Catholics go to the confessional while Muslims pray inside the four walls of the mosques. Hindus visit their ancient gods in modern temples as Jews look for comfort in their synagogues. Other ways of self-purification include self-indulgence through working out, reading books, watching television, listening to music, or acheiving orgasm. But, from personal experience, I declare that getting soaked to the bone win's the prize for one’s catharsis. In fact, in addition to being brilliant, it is also quite convenient. Just stand outside, or walk wherever you desire, wearing whatever you want, in the presence of whoever you want, or nobody if you want. That's the beauty of it: you don't need another person or higher being to liberate you or purge you from your evil self. All you need is nature and it's willingness to supply you with an adequate amount of rainfall.

After getting poured on numerous times this month, I have discovered the wonders of relieving internal tension and filth, watching it being washed away with the drops of the rain, seeping through my hair down to my face, leaving nothing but the effluvia of the air and a trail of raindrops inside my styled-and-blowdryed hair. I don’t really mind getting soaked in the rain. In fact, I got pretty wet today while walking towards Newcomb (a building on University grounds) to get a bite to eat, and then again, as I galloped like a racehorse, to find a cup of coffee and some shelter at Starbucks. And, surprisingly, I felt even more liberated when it poured really hard, harder than the voracity of a carload of drunk homos driving to the opening of a gay-club. That's because the violent downpour made me forget all my worries, along with a sense of time, since all my belongings, including my non-waterproof backpack, meticulously ironed clothes and collectable Louis Vuitton wrist-watch, were already drenched to the max. And I didn't mind at all how the downpour abated as soon as my completely-drenched self ordered a drink from the establishment. After all, thanks to the capricious thunderstorms of this month, I’ve started to find comfort in getting soaked and relishing the feeling of helplessness that one gets while bathing in the waters of Mother Nature.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed every second of today's experience because it made me give in to the forces of nature, with the curiosity of a willing virgin, and realize that I'm not always the master of my own will. It allowed me to acknowledge the “is-ness” of the moment and the power of an external force or being on me, or around me, controlling my environment and, as a consequence, affecting my mental well-being.

Oh, and it also makes me realize what a big FUCKING douchebag I am for not packing my umbrella when moving to the the 'Ville.

Earlier this month, I choose to take a vacation and sojourn in Charlottesville because I know this place. I know where to hide to avoid seeing someone familiar, or where to find free printing. I know which restaurant serves the best sandwitch, or where to find a bunch of drunk malicious gays attempting to get laid. Sometimes it’s all really about being the witness, or being the expert. And if you can’t explain to yourself why you came into existence, if you can’t put together the meaning of the random occurences in your life, or you can’t understand where the love of your life is, then it feels good – no, it feels great – to know at least one particular place, one particular period, from firsthand experience; to be the authority, to have time on your side, for once, for once. And that is the reason, I came here – knowing that the familiarity with the surroundings will provide me with a complete sense of security. At least temporarily, which is more than what I had in Washington.

I've learned so much about myself in Charlottesville. I’ve gained a lot, but then again I’ve also lost a lot, without being aware of what I was losing at that time. I’ve gained a top-notch college education, confidence in my self, the trust of some amazing people, and the ability to mend my broken heart. But, at the same time, I’ve lost my inbred values, undernourished body, foreign accent, and fear of my sexuaity. Overall, I think I’ve come out on top, which surprisingly, is also the position I like to play in the game of life. *loud laugh*

It's sort of heart-breaking to be leaving once again. I'll miss getting soaked, running in the rain, waking up with no specific plans and basking in the inexplicable beauty of this town. But, another part of me is looking forward to what lies ahead. Sort of like sitting on a rollercoaster where I am all buckled up and can do nothing but relax and enjoy the ride. I can always look back at this town since it's been fundamental in providing me with a sense of security. And it's good to know that I can always come back here to rejuvenate my strengths. Things have definitelty worked out, and now I’m ready to go back to DC to become the expert of a different place at a different time.