It’s been raining consistently this week and everything about rain gets me in the sweetest mood. The sound, scent, wind, splatter, breeze, cold and random drizzles. If the scent of rain could be captured, I’d wear it as a perfume.

A random stranger sheltered me with his umbrella across the street once. And watching a movie in an open field under the rain is an experience worth repeating. A rain-soaked dog might not smell like waffles in the morning but it sure as heck is comforting to massage its ears as your lap pillows its head. There’s something about the rain that brings people together, just like beaches and lakes.

So here I am—indoors—blogging about the awesomeness of rain because my sister canceled out on me and our little date to the outdoor cinema because she just got her wisdom tooth removed, feels drowsy with the painkillers and it’s raining. Painkillers, I hate you (sometimes). Anyway, I was looking through my little book collection and found a mini book of questions. Some questions were silly silly and others were interestingly silly. Here are some:

Which would be better: taking a cross-country train ride or a one-week trip to Disneyland?
A cross-country train ride, of course.

Which would be worse: being an impatient person or an inconsiderate person?
The latter. You can be impatient and keep quiet about it or be inconsiderate and lash it out on others… which reminds me, I was at Borders this morning and was contemplating purchasing Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman when a really loud and obnoxious man in the Mind, Body and Soul section broadcasted his phone conversation about funerals, being open-minded, wills, cremation or burial, taboos and casket packages. He was inconsiderate and I was impatient with my indecisiveness so I walked off.

Which would be better: living a simple life or having no worries?
Trick question.

Which would be worse: having no sense of humor or no common sense?
Having no sense of humor. If no one laughs with you, at least you could laugh at yourself. Besides, common sense might not be as common as you think.

Which would be better: working with wood or working with clay?
Jesus or Ghost. Jesus. Ghost. Jesus. Ghost. Yes, clay. I like Jesus the carpenter but I hate splinters.

Which would be worse: watching an execution or a fatal car accident?
Sick, sick question.

And, I’ve learned a few things this week.

Fiction: Guinness goes well with everything.
Fact: Guinness does not go well with mangosteens. Not at all.

Fiction: God makes/allows certain things in life for a reason.
Fact: Wisdom teeth and appendix.

That is all.

She is broken. Sometimes selfish. Usually misunderstood. Maybe bipolar. Maybe antisocial. Loving. Busy. Tired and in need of some rest. Prone to lie. Believes in confession. Understands adultery. Famous and infamous. Messy. Alive. Loose. Frightened and fragile. Usually trembling. Addicted. Romantic. Her knees, bent. Her arms, folded. Starving. Laughing. Occasionally overfed. Dirty. Self-righteous. Desperate and longing. Tender. Reaching. Bedraggled. Rich but poor. Thirsty. Good. In pain. Brokenhearted. Knows murder. Backstabbed. Kicks and screams. Misrepresented. Patient. Loved. Foolish. Undeserving. Under-served. Beautiful. Human. To die for.

She is most likely one of us. I don’t know if I like her, but I’m learning to love her.

Surely God has a sense of humor to love people.

I'm still talking to my difficult friend. And I still get tired out. She talks about how one mistake can mess up one's life and how it's the end of the world and I will tell her that it's not the end of the world. And she will talk about her mistakes again.

And I want to take a swim.

It's quieter there and even if I cry it won't be so noticeable. Underwater, things are quiet and when I need to catch my breath, I can float up to rest and surrender to the mass below me.

I probably sound like a desperate escapist, but if you knew me, you'd (probably) drive me to the nearest lake/river/beach/swimming pool pronto. I will show you how I do a somersault underwater and maybe we'd try to sing too. Or skip that and pass me the Wii.

I was talking to one of my closest friends' dad the other night. He speaks rather slowly and when he cracks a joke, he will tell it with a straight face, you'd wonder if he was joking at all. And then he will pause and smile. He gave me his two cents (and more) about handsome men. He said that there are two kinds of guys: 1.) those who are physically handsome and 2.) those who are handsome because of who they are and what they do/don't do. He said I should stick with the latter. He's wise and I couldn't agree more.

He then went on to dispense advice on marriage and love like I was going to elope the next morning. (Eloping would have been fun, but it didn't happen the next morning.)

So it’s true. I’m finally going to India in a month’s time. Thinking about it puts a smile on my face. Indian food. Curries. Bread (mmmm...). Dirt. Mud. Red earth. Cows. Banana leaves. Monkeys (I don’t like them). Bicycles. New faces. Unheard-of traffic rules. One week is too short.

And... here’s my Please Let It Not Be Too Cold In America tour in November (one month of unpaid leave. Yay.). I haven’t bought my plane ticket to the States yet but this morning I bought a ticket to the gods aren’t angry tour (L.A., November 13). I don’t know when I will reach or if there will be plane tickets on the dates I want. I hate planning ahead of time so I’m just going stick to what works: pray and trust.

This weekend: football match at the stadium with the kids. I couldn't be in a better place than here right now.