Dear Sylas,
It is again raining in Mexico City.
The people that know me are familiar with my disenchantment with rain. You don’t know it yet, I guess. But you will someday. Or maybe not, if I have anything to say about it.
Unlike many writers whose creativity seems to thrive in the rain, and many of my friends in Las Vegas, where you live, who’ve gone most of their lives without it, I do not like the sight/feel/implications of the heavens showering down upon us. It becomes tricky to walk around while carrying a computer. Traffic in the city becomes even worse. I have simply seen too much of it in my time living in this city, and enjoy going out to write too much, to be able to romanticize rain.
However, sitting here at the coffee shop, safe from the weather, I wonder if I can teach myself to like the rain. I’ve always felt that people are far too adamant about their tastes. I do not like green eggs and ham, they maybe sometimes proclaim. And hey, I’m just as guilty as everyone else, Sylas. You’ll see that sometimes, we get this idea that our tastes define us, that we must dislike something, that liking everything is a major character flaw. I took pride in the fact that you didn’t seem to enjoy bananas the first time you had them, because I don’t either. But, why?
Here’s a list of things that I used to dislike, or was even adamantly against, that, for one reason or another, I now greatly enjoy: coffee, beer, whiskey, football, certain rap music, large parties, bacon, The Black Keys, etc. Some of these were just change-of-heart moments where my preference inexplicably changed and I could not remember any reason why I used to dislike what I now like. Some of them, though, I approached with the specific intent to try to add another item to the long list of things I enjoy.
And want to know the surprising bit? It was easy. It really didn’t take much to force these acquired tastes on myself. Maybe just because I was willing. Maybe that’s all it takes for us to enjoy more of what life has to offer. To try. To say, I’m going to do/eat/drink/watch this until I can see the beauty in it, until I can get some enjoyment from it. And believe it or not, these things I now like do not feel forced. It does not feel like I’m feigning enjoyment. Maybe we just go around pretending we’re displeased by things, because it’s in our nature.
So maybe the rain deserves another chance from me. Maybe I should try walking around in it with an umbrella and no computer. Maybe I should stare at the way it gathers at the edge of things, and holds, holds, holds until it’s too heavy to resist gravity and drips down. Maybe, if I stare at a puddle long enough, try to count the ripples, I’ll be able to enjoy the rain. And then whenever it does rain, I won’t automatically feel that slight-to-heavy worsening in mood. I’ll just think to myself how much I like the rain and go about my merry day. Maybe, when you grow up, you’ll never believe that I once disliked the rain.
