Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Rainy Days and Wednesdays

  Have you ever felt like a character in your own story? Today I had a rough day, some people taking advantage of my niceness.
  Essentially I had to stay where I was, and cancel some plans I had with a friend. I am standing in this fancy event, complete with guest list and celebrities, and I am the help (well, not really, but you know working, not partying hard). I found myself not caring that I was warm inside with a nice job and wishing I could be out in the pouring rain. It was one of those cases where you had sent a text, but couldn't tell if it had sent, but couldn't check because tension in the job was so high that if you took your phone out then someone's head might explode.
  Every few minutes I found myself going to the window of my job and looking out into the wet street counting down the minutes until I was finally free.
  I was walking through Dublin's fair city. In the pouring rain (classic). It was raining huge raindrops the kind you feel go splat and then continue to roll down your forehead. It was dark, and I had a to-go cup of Christmas Starbucks honey and almond hot chocolate, the only thing to keep my hands from shaking with cold.
  It doesn't sound that bad. It wasn't really. I usually love walking in the rain (so long as I don't have to be somewhere looking good).
  I realise that there is no real point to that story. But for some reason it felt very much like a story. Have you ever thought that we are all just stories being read out by ghosts?


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