Today we are waiting for a storm to arrive. The weathermen say it will be historic. A hundred year storm. It will turn the east coast upside down.

I have spent most of my life waiting for storms that will turn my life upside down. Escaping high school, graduating from college, finding a job, marrying, having children, buying a house. All of these events were supposed to make everything different.

And each of them did. But somehow the differences didn't feel as...well...as different as I'd expected.

The differences were external. What changed drastically was outside of me. What I am, remained mostly the same. Is that a failing on my part, I wonder?

We are here or else we are gone and so long as the thread of our personalities remain intact there is probably a limit to how different things can seem. In the middle of wars people go about their usual business as best they can.

One of the attractions of literature and other art is how it allows us to see through other eyes, to experience things differently in a way that even the momentous events of our own lives do not necessarily allow.

I guess I am feeling philosophical today. Maybe it's the fall in the barometric pressure.