This originally started as a comment on Lindsey Mead’s blogpost “A new year”… I decided it was too obnoxiously long to post as a comment on someone else’s blog – check out her blog. Her writing is calming and inspiring. I love it.
I adore fall. I wait for it all summer (I hate summer). I wish that it could be September/October and the very beginning of November year round. I love every part of the leaves turning, the weather becoming cold, the fashion I can play with, the illusion of new beginnings.
I am going into this fall differently than I ever had before. I am going in with a specific date (October 22) to try to figure out what is next in my life. It is an attainable goal; it isn’t about BEING THERE by then, it is about knowing where I want to be by then. I hope to achieve it. I have many decisions to make.
This is the first fall since I’ve finished school that I have that illusion of “going back to school” or getting back to learning, to routine, to myself. When I was in high school, fall was always about getting back to my friends, learning, reading. As a university student, it was always about getting back to whatever purpose I felt I had; I was always the most comfortable in school.
Now as I approach this season as a young adult with seemingly no purpose, in a job I hate, in a field I’ve never been interested in (it was a necessity I am still grateful for, but almost no longer tolerant of), things feel again like all the answers will come to me in fall. The fall I’ve waited for. The events I’ve waited for. The friends I’ve waited to see.
I hope fall doesn’t fail me this year. If I don’t know where I am going, I won’t ever know how to get there.