Dancing in the Rain

It was the dark.
It was dark and rumbling and thundering and stormy and utterly, deliciously, horrible.
The weather made the earth a poison apple, a Granny-Smith green.
She tipped her head back and felt a raindrop.
Plink.
Another.
Plink. Plink.
And then another, another, and one more until there were raindrops plinking and thunking all over her face and rolling down her cheeks so that she could be laughing or crying and maybe she was but she didn't know and if anybody was there to see they wouldn't have known either.
She'd had a horrible day. Her job was horrible. She was so, so far from the ones she loved. And the dull, thudding ache of heartache resonated deep inside of her, giving her an air of weariness that was so, so sad in someone so, so young.
Her face was soaked, warm tears mingling with cooling raindrops.
Then a smile.
Slowly she pulled off her boots and socks-threw them away, who needs shoes, what useless things?-and threw off her hat and tipped her head back and she yelled.
And screamed.
And laughed.
And, because the moment called for it, she began to dance.
But her problems didn't disappear. They didn't hurt less.
She was simply dancing away and living and living and loving and dancing in the rain.
And there was nothing to it.

The Onion (wonderful)

I've taken to cooking.
It's so much fun. I get a recipe, and end up substituting and improvising as I go along. Sometimes it's because I'm too lazy to go out and actually buy the ingredients that we don't have, and sometimes it's just because of my intuition. I'm not a great cook, but I'm not horrible either, and I totally enjoy creating.
But today, I was attempting to chop an onion.
I tried everything. Sunglasses, swim goggles; I still ended up crying and sniffing as I chopped.
And that was when I had an epiphany (so cliche, I know).
I'm an onion. Well, not that way, but in the sense that I have layers. There's a different side of me the deeper you get and there's a different part of me the deeper I go. And everyone's like that. It's not just me.
We're all onions.
So embrace your inner onion. Don't be afraid to. You may be a tear-inducing veggie, but then again, your in the same boat as everybody else.
I have new respect for the onion.
(And no, I STILL refuse to eat them, Mom)
Love,
Anjor
P.S. Sorry I haven't written in so long.
P.P.S. The view from down here? I'm too busy chopping onions. 

The Rut

I am in a rut.
I can't write productively; I have no inspiration. I'm not doing anything new. Nothing new has happened. I'm not feeling inspired right now. And that is probably one of the most awful feelings of all time.
Unfortunately there is absolutely nothing--and I repeat, nothing--you can do about a rut. Talk to a friend, go take a jog, do something new; it might help for a while, but being stuck in your head with nothing to think about is a feeling that will never go away no matter what you do.
So I guess I have to suck it up.
Unless something interesting happens, I'm still going to be in a rut. :p I don't like that feeling. I want to actually go out there and start something. Make something happen. Prove to myself that I'm actually here.
Well, I might as well add a unicorn, a record deal, an acting contract, a llama, two tickets to an all-expense paid trip of the Harry Potter Wizarding World, and a unlimited, any-store-you-want, shopping spree (because retail therapy works and I don't really care right now that they're taking advantage of us and whatnot)
If you actually made it down here, then congrats.
Best,
Anjor
P.S. The view from down here? I'm too exhausted to look.