Subdued Horror

This past weekend has been full of emotional turmoil and stress with a lot of things transpiring. Fittingly, after returning to my brother's house from our trip to Las Vegas, it was raining pretty hard in the Valley (hard for California, surely). The entire day of Sunday felt like time was at a standstill with nothing letting up - the rain was continuous and would get harder sporadically. The most important thing of note was the constant state of lighting - grossness.

While this picture isn't as representative as it could/should be, I hope the point still gets across. There's always something about this kind of lighting that makes me really uncomfortable. You're inside and you think it's just going to be a gloomy day; sweater weather but easy on the eyes. But then you're just all sorts of wrong when you step out. Instead, it's not as cool as you like but it's also oddly bright. The sun is definitely being covered by the menagerie of clouds, yet the brightness is deceiving. It still somehow manages to pierce your eyes and cause a lot of pressure. It's just completely subduing everything you, yet the brightness is curiously more painful than if the sun is shining directly in your face (possibly an exaggeration).

On a day like this, I always seem to get a strange kind of foreboding. An omen of sorts. I never know what exactly is going to happen, but I can expect something uncomfortable to happen.



Or I'm just crazy and dramatic. It's all the same to me really.