Why do I like storms?

I'm currently sitting in the stairwell of my apartment building looking up granola recipes and waiting for our fourth or fifth tornado warning of the day to pass. And with the way things have been going since 9:00, as soon as 11:00 (the current end time for the warning) approaches the warning will be renewed. It certainly is fierce out there.

Today I got to thinking about why I like storms. I think it's similar to why I like heights and various other things. I've become convinced that I like storms because I'm secretly afraid of them. Just afraid enough to get my adrenaline pumping, but not afraid enough to have me cowering in a corner. I'm an adrenaline junkie when it comes to physical danger. There is something in me that craves the twinge of fear and hungers after the thrill of pushing it aside because the exhilaration brings a certain joy and simply because I can.

But it's not just the smidgen of fear that makes storms so great; their terrible power adds a whole new level of beauty. Heights are fear-inducing because you might fall, but it's not as if the height is trying to hurl you against the earth (usually). A storm, however is not just a passive possibility. It is very much alive and very much angry. Such as display of power, with breath-taking rush of wind, heart-stopping crash of thunder, eye-dazzling bursts of lightning, and ear-filling frenzy of rain, inspires a captivating awe. I just can't turn away. And so I sit and watch and listen in exhilaration until I fall asleep or am called by responsibility or - if I'm lucky - the storm runs its course. Because I'm just enough nervous to be all the more excited and happily overwhelmed.

P.S.: Observe also that I have once again changed my background.