our lives are a series of thunderstorms.

On Friday night, I sat in my kitchen and listened to a storm. For DC, it was a pretty bad storm, the worst I've seen since moving out here. But as a lover of rain, I threw open my backdoor, locked the screen into place, and watched the sky open up and the rain pour down in sheets. I listened to the sound of the rain hitting the concrete on the patio, and liked the way the booming thunder rattled the coffee cup I was sipping out of. Eventually, the storm passed on and the smell of fresh rain, wet dirt, and clean wood from the patio filled my kitchen.

It was beautiful. It was serene. I smiled widely, and long enough for my face to hurt.

Then the sirens started - the rain had come so suddenly, people lost visibility on the road and a lot of accidents happened in a short time. I got a text from my upstairs neighbors/housemates that a branch had fallen and damaged the property a little. The 25+ mph gusts of wind had messed up part of the porch.

The storm, wonderful a few minutes before, now seemed like a bad thing. An unfortunate incident that we would gripe about for weeks to come. Even though just days before, we'd been commenting on how what DC needed was some serious rain. And in a few weeks again, I knew we'd be thinking that DC was in serious need of rain.

Because that's how it always goes. We talk about how we need rain until we have it. The storm hits, we think it's okay until the damage is revealed. We hate the storm and complain about it.  Then we do it all again.

In a way, isn't this how we do everything in our lives?

We think we need something - a hair cut, a new relationship, a night out on the town. While it's going on we fall into it and love it - the new hair cut makes us feel so sexy. The new relationship is all excitement and butterflies. The night out on the town is the most fun you've had in ages.

And then it goes wrong. We realize the new cut looks bad curly, or the fun part of the relationship fades, or we have a terrible headache the next morning.

We get angry: I'm never cutting my hair this short again! I'm so done with guys that play guitar! I'm never effing drinking again! We bitch about it until the hair grows out or we're over the break up or the next Friday night.

Then before we know it, we're back to thinking: IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE... Wouldn't it be fun to get my hair cut short? That guy singing karaoke is cute. Let's go out tonight!

The events in our lives are a series of thunderstorms. Thunderstorms that make us throw open the doors to revel in the power, hate the mess when it's done, complain about it for a while, and want it all over again. Events that make us smile, force ourselves to get over them, and crave them all over again.

As for me - I'm at the in-between, the point where I'm done complaining about the storm and I'm starting to crave another one. Maybe not the same storm - not another relationship, not another guy in my life. But another storm all the same. I can foresee the consequences in the not-too-distant future; the things I'll hate about it when the beauty of the storm is over. But for now, I want the storm.

Where are you? Are you right in the middle of the thunderstorm, cleaning up the mess, or craving the next?