Porch Ramblings Pt. 1

Past the crux of a relentless thunderstorm, yet still the rain beats down. (It's up to you if that's the current forecast or a deeper metaphor). But water's just water, harmless unless you're about to drown. Cue brilliant lightning flash and thunder boom, making me almost race to the door. But these words won't hover anymore, so I hover over the screen and sit in place. I dare myself not to cave. Sit in place, be brave. Water's just water. It's a cycle including rain, sunshine that evaporates said rain back into their clouds, until the pressure builds up and up until gravity lets the rain free of the puffy atmospheric islands. So sitting (somewhat) safely in my Muhlenberg hoodie under the corner of a wrap-around porch, I contemplate what it is I'm actually thinking about. My thoughts are my world. Rain and loud hideous noises that make my body tense are not my world, so by the transitive property my thoughts must be a little deeper than mere weather. People talk about the weather when they don't want to talk about truth...
("Keep it locked up inside don't talk about it, talk about the weather" -Dave Matthews; "Sometimes I wish I were the weather. You'd bring me up in conversation forever. And when it rained, I'd be the talk of the day" -John Mayer) What the hell is really on my mind. In a month and a day, I'll be off to a place where no one will ever, ever, ever even mistakenly call me 'Danielle.' And on that day when Danielle Smith/Johnson/Leibowitz sits in back of me in Child Psych 101, and the teacher looks seemingly at me and says "Danielle?" I'll intuitively and politely respond, as I've been accustomed to doing so. No, that's not my name, but it's certainly part of my identity. There goes the thunder again. I've always despised loud noises to the point that as a toddler I was clinically confused by my love of the colors and shapes of fireworks, but horrified by the intense boom accompanied by something so pretty. On more than one occasion, people/places/things/insert nouns here have had similar effects. Confusing me by attracting me, investing my emotions, only to eventually hurt me. But I've learned so much, matured so much, discovered oh so very fucking much along the way. So with a month and a day before the rest of my life beckons, I know that I'll always be (somewhat) safely sitting. Leaping. Dancing. Writing. Risking. Because the morals and lessons that ground me have taught me that not everything in my life has to rhyme.