"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible." -Vladimir Nobokov

Friday, October 11, 2013

Letter #11

Dear October,
        Today you were a perfect, blustery fall day. Your morning matched my mood as I frantically ran around campus trying to find a printer that would print my essay for Lit class. As I walked the leaves tumbled down around me and danced through the air so fast I had to squint for fear the wind would blow something into my eyes. The trees on campus are changing noticeably now, their tops crowned by lots of yellow and a little bit of red. Today feels like a poem I’m not sure I can write, but I’m going to try anyway.
Later tonight I get to carve pumpkins, an event that the Student Activities Committee is putting on. It’s been years since I’ve carved a pumpkin, so I got excited as soon as I heard about it. Pumpkin carving always makes me think of Martha Stewart, and Martha Stewart Living is still my guilty pleasure magazine, especially the Halloween edition. I fall every single time for the beautiful pictures of old new England cottages with paper silhouettes of witches in the windows, and of cupcakes decorated to look like spiders, and of black and white streamers twisting above the fireplace like decorations for some monochromatic prom. The places in that magazine, the cottage, the spotless living room, the rustic front porch with the perfectly carved pumpkins on the stairs, always seemed magical to me, like they were the true embodiment of all things Fall. But I know that isn’t true. Fall is in days like today- just chilly enough to warrant a sweater (even though most people didn’t bother), with the wind at your back and leaves spinning around your head. Today the leaves, huge and brittle, crunched under my feet as I walked to class. The pumpkin I carve tonight won’t be a work of art like the ones in Martha Stewart Living, and I don’t even have a rustic front porch to  display it on. But that’s okay, because instead I’ll be back in the cafeteria, surrounded by friends who are hopefully just as inexperienced at pumpkin carving as I am, and it will be the act, the messiness of it all, that counts, and not the idea, this perfectly imagined picture of a season that we get from the glossy pages of magazines. I prefer days like today over that, anyway.


Song of the day: "Little Green" by Joni Mitchell

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