I’m obsessively taking photos, on which I toss them in the archives and forget about them. So, I’m thinking, what the fuck, let’s post some of that old stuff on the blog. Extremely topical (not), here goes last year’s autumn.
Fellow blogger Amy’s post on her ambivalent feelings about September made me think about what I think about the end of summer. My September perceptions split in two opposing groups: those happening on the 1st September and those anytime after that.
Oh my god, I mean, oh my universe, it’s September! Yay-you. What do I do? I want to do something new. Start a new blogging challenge! Start a new life! Get a new kitten! *I’m excitedly pacing around the flat and wondering what to start first.*
Anyone knows if the kids are at school today or if they’re going only on Monday? At any rate, serve them well. They’ll be removed from the streets, won’t make so much noise and maybe get educated in the process.
I think I want to go to school again. School must be different now. I am different now. I want to learn stuff. Gain an encyclopaedic knowledge of irrelevant trivia. Maybe I’d pick up some Maths. I nearly failed it but this time I’d rock it.
Oh fuck, it’s September. Woke up all drenched after a nightmare when I was sick, missed classes and got hopelessly and forever lost. Once for all, my stupid mind, you’re done with school. No last exams. No last theses. No last anything. You’re good.
Except it’s got so cold. And getting colder. Constantly cold feet, hands and nose for the next nine months or so. Time to take out the oil heater. I’ve already put on layered clothes. I’m taking out scarves and mittens. I’m terrified of winter.