Rain is just water

So, today, there was some badassness. DTM was in full effect.

Now, I don't talk much about DTM as I loathe all forms of modesty-broaching and hold a firm, steadfast believe that nothing is ever worthy of leaving the deserved realms of humility. But, today, DTM impressed me. And they talk about him, so why can't I?

After his interview (it wasn't bad, but just don't ask), DTM walked out of the Smith Center to a light drizzle. Quickly this escalated to a veritable downpour (no, it wasn't thunderstormesque, but it was legit). Still, DTM pressed on. Around him, people ran for cars, sought out overhangs, and the smart ones whipped out umbrellas. DTM was not smart, but he was also not fazed, and so he pressed on. Wearing his dress clothes, he slowly proceeded from dry to wet to soaked. But he pressed on. And the coolest thing during it all was his steely, unwavering resolve. Despite the weird looks as he passed people comfortably dry and sheltered from the downpour. Despite the rain dripping off his hair and into his eyes, he blinked not, nor gave ninguna wipe-away. Despite. And though it may have been because of his mood (last day of classes and all), I don't think that explains it. No, there was something more, something greater and more awesome (in the real sense of the word, not the overused, cheapened slang sense). He was oblivious to the rain, completely unaffected by it. Actually, he kind of relished in it, saw that he was bigger than it, and embraced it for what it was. It was quite an experience.

To the other, to DTM, is to whom occur the things.