Falling hard for each falling leaf ♡

Each summer people get themselves into a tizzy, excited over the warm weather, beach going, the new bikini trends, tanning, etc. Well, not me. Don't get me wrong, I do like summer, I just don't spend the entire year waiting for it.

Right now, I am waiting for it to end.

September 1st through the end of March (or February, depending on how long snow graces us with it's presence!) is my favorite time of year.

Let's get you settled into the mood: the air has a slight chill when you wake up, causing you to pull your flannel sheets over your shoulders, stretching to reach your chin. Climbing out of bed a little shiver runs through you, feet searching for the warmth of your slippers. Reaching the closet you realize that the weather will now allow you to liberate the sweaters that have been clustered together in the corner for so long. You oblige the request, stretching your arms through the sleeves, and begin to dig up a pair of fall boots that look like they spent the summer trying form their own sweater with dust, then throwing on a light scarf for good measure. Freshened with the once forgotten clothing and new warmth, you make your way to the coffee shop, who is now selling pumpkin spice coffee! Oh, what a beautiful time of year! On your ride to work or university you see the leaves changing colors, the grand mountains dotted with the beginnings of what will later be the most spectacular color show, and take a deep breath of the crisp fall air..

Now, you may not appreciate this time of year if you don't live in an area like mine. New England has the most beautiful Fall and Winter seasons around, and if you haven't yet experienced it, I suggest quite emphatically that you put it on your to-do list!

On that note, let us suffer another day of heat..

(Photo from visitnh . gov — I will be uploading many of my own come September!)

We can both talk pretty, no?

If you have the slightest inclination to learn a language that isn't native to you, or you've tried and have experienced the pitfalls, you must read Me Talk Pretty One Day. There are moments in this book that literally make me laugh no matter where I am reading — the library, the bus, a restaurant..

As anyone who has tried to acclimate themself to a new language and customs knows, making an ass out of yourself frequently is to be expected, and Sedaris isn't an exception. It's nice to read about moments that I feel are so connected to my own experiences with French and to find that my blunders are not entirely unique!

I get unbelievably flustered when I'm asked a question in a foreign language class — my face looks like Molly Ringwald's hair — and stutter about until I am able to give some half-formed answer. On multiple occasions I have been targeted (at least that's what it feels like..) in French class and unable, of course, to think. I give part of my response in French and what I don't know in French will accidentally come out in Spanish. Needless to say, the only B on my transcript from last semester was in French!

Till next time..

Au revoir, amigos!

Illiterates, Literates, and Snobs

Do you contemplate literary snobbery while you read? I do.

I can't help but read my favorite Jane Austen novel with an analytical eye, seeking out what makes her writing magic -- what it is that commands the awe of an entire population of English speakers. For that matter, how has her writing stood the test of time? Albeit, not a very long time.. But hey, a hundred years is longer than I've lived.

When I look up from Pride and Prejudice long enough to remove myself from the eighteenth century, I can't help but feel a phony. High school literature classes teach the classics, but experience has taught me that those lesson leave the majority of students with only the knowledge that they are classics, and not why they are classics. Rather than think for ourselves, we are set a prescribed opinion, one that I find hard to shake now that I have entered adulthood (somewhere out there my parents are laughing at that last part).

I remember watching an episode of Gilmore Girls a while back, the one in which Lorelai and her mother agree on something. For those of you with little Gilmore knowledge, let me tell you that this is an epic occurrence. Lorelai is shocked that they found common ground, leading her to question every choice she has ever made -- even the one that started her love of Poptarts! She asked herself this question: Do I like what I like because I like it, or do I like what I like because my mother doesn't like it?

I was told that Jane Austen is a writer of many English classics, therefore I grew up thinking that. My self doubt comes from a suspicion that without being told of her greatness, I would not appreciate her writing.

With all that said, I do know this: Mr. Darcy makes me swoon and I see much of myself in Elizabeth Bennett. She is the essence of the person I imagine myself being during a time when women were expected to be seen and not heard. My hearts speeds up when I reach the last quarter of the novel and the pages feel right in my hands.