Answer: Volcanos, Brawls, Pimples, and Me

Question: What are some things that erupt?
e·rup·tion/iˈrəpSHən/Noun
1. A sudden outpouring of a particular substance from somewhere

That sudden outpouring of my particularly pent-up substance from my brain erupted at five pm Thursday evening in my apartment before an open window during a thunderstorm.

 It was a hot day. Not just a hot day, but the kind of day where start to consider moving to Norway because all of your clothes feel tight with sweat and your hair is constantly plastered to your forehead and just for this reason do you have a bah-gillion errands to run in a country where walking as a form of transportation is highly supported. This may have also have been the last day of my family's stay here. The morning was a rush of getting to the airport, picking up tickets and finding certain family members toilets. After that I whirwinded back to Tübingen, no easy feat, let me tell you, and literally climbed half a mountain to turn in a form. Cry me a river, right? Sure will. Then I'll use my five hundred and sixty dollars I got back from that form to build a bridge over my teary canal.

I'm chalking a lot of this stress up to the fact that I am not a people person (Bobbi would probably call it something along the lines of an anxiety disorder but I'm not a huge fan of the big words), I had a grade-deciding presentation that week, another big one in the coming week, two of these annoying little forms staring me straight in the face and daring me to forget about them, and waaaaay too much estrogen in my life. Don't they make a pill for that?

But everything worked out. I got back to my apartment and just opened the window to breathe. Then it started. I kid you not, the sky opened up and let it all out. It thundered and shook my apartment, lightning crashed, and the wind picked up and blew all the teeny-tiny rain droplets into my face. The kind of refreshing wet that can only come by a flash heat storm.
 Heat storm, my butt.
 That was me letting out a sigh after my past weeks. That's how much energy I had pent up in me waiting to bust out. Enough to shake buildings. After it finished rampaging, everything smelled new and good. The pavement, instead of sizzling like before, had steam rising off of it and as I walked to my bus stop, EcoSneaks squishing through puddles, I was feeling one hundred percent better. At that moment, Nature and I were on the same page. Deep, man. I know.