On the fifth day, which was a Sunday, it rained very hard. I like it when it rains hard . It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.

– Chapter 157, Page 103, line 20

I like rain too.

The heavy downpour outside when I am comfortably indoor, preferably enjoying a cup of hot Ear Grey and watching the big raindrops spattering mercilessly on the grey pavements, the dull buildings, the soulless glass windows, threatening to erode everything they can lay themselves onto. I like it when it is so noisy that it blocks out every other sound. There is actually a form of tranquility in which I can seek calmness and peace and yet surprisingly no melancholy of any sorts.  

I like lightning too. The bolts slash across the sky like some Picasso painting, decorating the dark gloomy sky, bedazzling everyone in sight. They can be so beautiful. Unless you are struck by one. Then again, death will fall upon you so fast that you won’t even know what has hit you literally. And if you believe in Heaven, then don’t worry because you will be in somewhere even more beautiful. That is if you really die from the major electric shock. If you survive, well, I will suspect plenty of pain and you will probably need shots and shots of morphine like a drug addict.

I hate thunder. Okay, maybe I am a bit scared of thunder. Not the shriek-cover your ears-run away kind of fear, but definitely the involuntary shrinking kind. Everytime I see a pretty lightning bolt flash across the sky, I am so lost in its beauty that I forget the same electrical discharge that produces one of Nature’s greatest sights also produces a bloody annoying shockwave heard as thunder. That is why the sharp, loud crack always takes me by surprise and scares the shit out of me. Fortunately, sound travels so much slower than light (340 m/s vs 3×108 m/s), so sometimes I do remember and prepare myself for the rude break of the serenity.

Most people do not like rain. They adore the sun. They pray for sunny days and loathe it when it pours. That is unless of course they live in Africa or on the deserts where they can’t wait for the rain to arrive. Singapore feels like a desert sometimes. Especially when you are on an outdoor volleyball court training. I never knew how I survived all those years under the sizzling sun. We used to call our court the Gobi Desert because it was always so bloody hot with no shade at all. I loathe the sun. I cannot stand the heat and I hate how sunlight is too-in-your-face kind of glaring. It damages your eyes and the UV rays increase your risk of skin cancer. Rain is good. It cleans up the atmosphere, washes the dusty roads and pavements, lowers the temperature and is soothing to both the eyes and ears. And mind and soul, if I must say. I like rain (and I am not refering to a particular Korean popstar).

I guess people don’t like rain for the same reason they don’t like sleeping with all the lights off, tunnels, cementaries, mortuaries, hospitals and the Hungry Ghosts’ Festival. They all signify darkness. Death? Maybe. And that’s supposed to be bad because we are supposed to learn to see the light.

But what if I say, to see the light, you must first learn to embrace the dark?

Socrates once said that “Nobody knows, in fact, what death is, nor whether to man it is not perhaps the greatest of all blessings; yet people fear it as if they know it to be the worst of all evils.” I think people fear death because they do not understand it. Just like homophobia. People mock and feel disgusted because they are ignorant. However, in reality, it could have been you. You just happen to be born heterosexual. What if you are the gay one now? Would you still feel like laughing? Genitalia is just the Creator (used very loosely here)‘s way of accessorising, baby.

Death is even better. Because it will happen to every single freaking Homo sapiens on this earth. You can’t run away from it and it’s not going to say “here I come” when it hits you hard and fatal. Well, not most of the time anyway. I seek solace in death in a way or two. There is certainly nothing in this world, nothing at all, that is as definite as death and as inevitable. There is nothing under the sun or moon that you can take for granted other than death. From the day you were born, it came with a day in the future, maybe near, maybe far, when you will eventually die.  

If you can accept your flat nose, negligible boobs, far from impressive stature, insignificant paycheck and bonus, ERPs and inflation all over the globe, what is so difficult about death? Personally, I think the ERPs are worse because I will never be able to afford a car.

Death, the most dreaded of evils is therefore of no concern to us; for while we exist, death is not present, and when death is present, we no longer exist.
                                                                                   – Epicurus