As I mentioned in my previous post, it is October 1st. Today came the realization that it is definitely Fall. And that’s when the nostalgia came knocking at my door.
My first sign that Autumn has arrived is always just a feeling. The sensation that all is calm in the world. Leaves are falling, children are playing, and American football is starting. This usually occurs to me on a mid to late September Sunday morning, driving through my neighborhood on a clear, breezy day (except, of course, when I was at school..there it would strike me as I walked to class in a light zip up jacket). When I parked my car in my driveway, I would stand and look up at the sky, thanking the universe for giving me such a pure sense of my surroundings. Walking into my house ensured the constant football games on TV all day, which is always a pleasure, and a true staple of Fall in America. The promise of a big family dinner later on that day was comforting. Now, I’m somewhere completely different, and it just isn’t the same. It is still nice, but I’m longing for that moment when all things fall perfectly into place (haha get it..”fall” into place).
I’m also missing midterms. I know how ridiculous that sounds. Who wants to study for hours on end, just to figure out you’ve studied all the wrong things and then have to pray for the best? Frankly, I do. And not because I love spending time reading the same thing over and over again, but because I love the feeling of knowing that I’m expanding my mind and thinking critically about important things. I also love the occasional study groups, because the discussions are so thought provoking and intelligent. Maybe it’s just because I have brilliant friends, but our conversations during those times never ceased to amaze me.
So I guess I will just have to keep my mind off of those things today, because I need to be happy, not sad, when going onto this fierce bowling competition with the church group tonight. It’s pretty important that I feel up to the task of kicking some ass. I’ve got to talk some serious game, here…because we all know I’m the world’s worst bowler.
Anyway–Here is Autumn in Rosenheim, as I sit on the back porch, reading Portia de Rossi’s Unbearable Lightness: