I have been dreading November for months. It had been looming in my future, a gloomy, orange shadow (when I hear November, I think orange). November was near enough to know my life would not be different when it came, but far away enough that knowing this depressed the hell out of me. I would still be here, working part-time with a less than desirable resume, having failed to seriously consider applying for graduate school. I would not have finished the book I have been reading since the summer and I would not have written any stories of my own. And I would be alone.
November is artistically sad- people sing about this. I know 20 emotional songs affirming the same thing: November is a fucking miserable month. The day gets shorter and the night gets longer. The weather gets cold and dead leaves fall like rain. Not to mention, it rains.
But today, November is exactly halfway over. Everything that I knew would be true in November is. Somehow, though, it doesn't make me too sad. I feel okay. I feel so okay that I cannot believe how quickly November is passing by.
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