The month is coming to an end and I’ve found a new way to package my revelations into something more appealing. September always has a fresh energy to it. A time when the summer heat begins to lift and I can finally think a bit more clearly. There was a lot of thinking, not a lot of doing. And that’s okay.
Here lies the record of all the things that I have constantly been going back to this month. My monthly themes, my monthly “ins” if you will.
Maintaining a streak on Duolingo
Terracotta blush
Watching Youtube vlogs of people with cooler lives than me
Perfecting my skincare routine just before the frigid winter weather completely unravels it
Vintage watches
Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac (Live at Warner Brothers Studios, 1997)
Oscillating between moments of delusional confidence and self-loathing
Princess Diana’s street style (in reference to her iconic Harvard sweatshirt with biker shorts look on the streets of London circa 1997)
Referring to your 20s as the trenches
My September reads have varied from sad nonfiction to sad fiction. I started the month in the middle of reading Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking. The extended period of time it took me to read had nothing to do with the quality of the book and had everything to do with my mental state: distracted. Joan Didion continues to be a writing inspiration of mine. This book followed the journey of her grief after losing her husband in the midst of her daughter being ill and is one that I felt deeply connected to. Yesterday I began the first book written by Japanese author Kazuo Ishiguro. This book follows a Japanese woman living in England following the recent death of her eldest daughter. I promise you I am not dwelling on grief, or else it would be listed in my hyper-fixations list. I just happen to have stumbled upon various books about it this month.
And of course, in the effort to remind myself that there is indeed beauty in my life even when things do not always feel that way, we have the highlight of my month. For September: spending the weekend with my aunt and uncle, my cousins, and in a newer turn of events, children of their own.
In a way, it reminded me of how it used to be. Instead of us kids having a sleepover in one of the bedrooms, sleeping in sleeping bags lined up on the floor, we now slept in separate spaces, coming together for coffee in the morning. My cousins, who used to play with me by carrying me on their backs, spinning me around, and often throwing me in the air, now play with their own children that way. While it was familiar, when you looked around the room, you could clearly see how much time had passed, how much we had all grown. It was a beautiful reminder that we’re all becoming who we were always meant to be.
Okay friends, that’s all. Before I go, I will leave you with this:
(catch Stevie putting a hex on Lindsey Buckingham at 4:12)