Rage and Blow

Friday morning began with my overzealous alarm clock telling me that I was no longer able to enjoy the comforts of my warm bed. The hiddeous, shrill, electronic beeping forced me to swing my legs out, kicking a pile of unfolded laundry in the process, and make my descent on the world for yet another day. I was scheduled to go into the studio and do some recordings. As a freelance voice actor, one cannot look a financial gift-horse in its' molars. From time to time I do voice-recordings for a telecommunications company that designs phone and message systems for a variety of businesses. If you're ever in Newfoundland and get a call reminding you that your doctor's appointment is coming up and you should remember to bring your medical forms, or if you're enjoying a day in Hawaii but get a call from the power company telling you to pay your bill, you're most likely hearing my voice as the gentle, yet insistent message relaying important payment information. This is, by no means difficult work, but it does require me to be out of the house and functioning much earlier than I prefer.
On this day, the sky was quite overcast, and the temperatures were making their December trek down the other side of the comfort mountain. I stopped by a convenience store for a cup of caffeine. Not really liking the choices, I opted for a machine-dispensed, coffee/foam drink. I took one sip of the vanilla-meets-feet concoction, and knew I was in for a great day.
While paying for my crappuccino, I made some innocent small talk with the bearded attendant. She was a nice lady. I decided to keep the conversation pleasant while waiting for my card to be read. Instead of telling her how her hat was a nice distraction from her mustache, I thought it more prudent to discuss the weather. After a brief but amiable dialogue on the consistent inconsistency of the local weather patterns, I bid my adieu and left for my date with a microphone.
I realized while driving, that I tend to have conversations about the weather quite frequently. That seems to be my go-to topic when talking with people and I run out of things of consequence to discuss. Weather talk is innoccuous, plain, and guaranteed to stay in the realm of pleasant. But, not only do I discuss the weather, I've begun complaining about it more and more. Without being given any official warnings, I've suddenly become a curmudgeon, capable of ranting about the weather and not much else. This realization struck home with a vengeance. Surely I could find more interesting things to talk about than rising humidity, and the fact that it was nice outside yesterday, but today just looks unfavorable. "Unfavorable!?" People my age do not use that word in connection with the weather unless they add "conditions for extreme sports this afternoon after I pound some beers". I am only inches away from yelling at kids to "get off my damn lawn".
But I like talking about the weather. I'm no meteorol..., meteorit...I'm no weatherman, but I do find a source of genuine entertainment in the awesome power of nature. I'm drawn to disaster movies where man is battling with the elements, and the elements keep winning. There's something exciting about watching the sky grow black in the middle of the day, and you feel that cold rush of air as you realize that God just turned on the cosmic showers and the water pressure is good. I like seeing the clouds turn their menacing gaze on little old me. I feel both empowered and awed by the thrill of knowing that "this could be the perfect storm."
Maybe it's that sense of urgency that accompanies a feeling of impending doom, but great weather inspires me to want to be social and find a place with others so we can collectively brace ourselves against nature's brute brunt. Open the taps, and let's ride this one out together!