At long last, it is sunny, crisp, windy, chilly, rainy, cosy, sometimes all at once. I have been waiting for this. I didn’t realize how badly I was longing for fall until suddenly, one ordinary morning, I felt cold and had to hug my arms to my chest. Fall is here – finally. And all I want to do is wear an orange or mustard coloured sweater.
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Now vs In Two Weeks
This morning I woke up at 6:30 and lay in bed reading Atonement until 8:00. Time seemed irrelevant because I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. So I stayed in my pajamas for most of the day. Strangely enough, having nothing to do made me feel important.
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Summer in Reality
Even though it’s still summer, everything about September automatically feels different. The mornings are chillier, the songs are sadder, and I’m annoyed at myself for letting the whole season pass without wearing jean shorts even once.
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The Party Next Door
The other night, the neighbours in the apartment next door had a party. I could see them in a yellow room or out on the patio, drinking, smoking, talking too loud. Sometimes I feel sad that I missed the part of life where you’re supposed to go to parties all the time, and get drunk, and do stupid things. And sometimes I don’t care at all.
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My Neighbour’s Music
There is someone on my street who has excellent taste in music. I don’t recognize half the songs playing, but all of them are evocative, sentimental, and oddly cheerful, reminding me of the type of songs a person would listen to in the olden days, or when looking back on life, or while in the middle of living a very colourful life, or because he knows a great deal about life, or because he just really like dancing or staring into space.
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Reading on a Windowsill
Reading on a windowsill is not just sitting on a windowsill with your nose in a book. Since the beginning, it’s meant something more to me. The image of some ideal life I wanted to achieve, a symbol of being luxuriously lazy, of having an infinite amount of time, of being young enough or old enough to be free from real life.
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Romanticized Summer
On Saturday I walked into town with my hair in the type of high ponytail that swings back and forth when you walk. I was carrying The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime which is a book I bought a long time ago, never read, and left in Canada. I bought another copy of it in a messy bookshop in Glasgow because it was £1 and hardcover and because I really wanted to read it.
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My Friend, Time
My past relationship with time was twisted. I had too much of it and then I never had enough. When I was in elementary school, I remember tapping my fingers on my desk waiting for Christmas break. Even when the air was cold, we rushed outside but we couldn’t rush fast enough: it was only lunch recess.
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Things I Learned Growing Up 