(I think) I know what I want to do with my life.

It's September 1st- Labor Day. For some, this marks the end of summer. Others regard it as the day on which you must cease wearing white (1). I think it's a great day, because it's when things finally start to feel like fall - my favorite time of year.

Fall is insanely busy for me. Every Saturday is packed with an XC meet, a marching band competition, or both (2). Monday and Wednesday nights are for marching band. Tuesdays are XC meets. Thursdays I sometimes work, and Fridays are football games, spaghetti dinners, or maybe a bonfire. This crazy schedule makes it my favorite time of year though. Nothing comes close to the feeling of accomplishment I get after I finish a race; I have never felt so close to anyone as I do with my girls team. Marching band is probably the most important activity in my life. We are always going above and beyond previous years - we accomplish more and more each year. The immense amounts of hard labor that go into this season certainly turn into really great experiences. Besides that, fall has the best weather. It's not too hot, so you can wear jeans and hoodies or sweaters, but you don't always need a heavy jacket. When you're at football game, or on the band bus home, it's always a tiny bit chilly, and you always have a reason to cuddle with your best friends or whoever you choose. Fall has some good food - corn, Thanksgiving food, apples, pumpkin seeds. Halloween is probably one of my favorite holidays - everyone running around in costumes at night, how much fun is that?

Tonight I was riding my bike home as it was getting dark. It was getting a little chilly, and out on the country roads... a little creepy. I looked at the sky, orange at one end and navy blue at the other, with a flock of geese flying in a perfect V. Tall corn surrounded me in gigantic fields, the smell of which triggered memories of past autumns. It was such a beautiful moment - the beginning of my last fall in high school. I stopped pedaling and coasted as slowly as I could, because I wanted to stay out there as long as possible. It was one of those many moments in which all I could think of is... I need to save this. I need to document this. This moment isn't going to last long enough for me, and I'm going to want to remember how it was right now. It would be a sin to forget this.

The most peculiar feeling came over me. I wanted to paint a picture of it, but I can't draw for shit. I wanted to write a song about it on piano, or violin.. but I felt I could never capture that in a song; I'm not musically inclined enough. Then I remembered what I do to remember things like that. I write. It's my art of choice; clearly, or I would not be writing this blog. Writing is like a puzzle, or a challenge - describe this one idea as clearly as you possibly can using words. Go.

If I were to write about this, and later someone read it, one of two things would happen. They might feel the same thing I felt, practically experience that late night bike ride, or that spontaneous run through the cornfield with Ciera, or the first time marching band won states. They might read it and feel like they were there, and feel the excitement and wonder and passion I felt at those points in time. Or, they might not. They might not really get this. Although that would mean that I was not an efficient writer... It would almost be alright. Because I would read it, and I would remember, and that moment would live forever.

It would be accurate to say that all I want to do is write. I really don't think I even care what I write about, at all. I just want to write. So I think I'll major in communications, maybe go on to do some Journalism. I'm obviously going to change my mind several times in college (3). I'm just really glad that right now I know - or think I know - what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to take an idea, no matter how dull, and express it in the best choice of words possible.

1. Question - can you wear white on Labor Day? How much white constitutes "wearing white"? Who made up this rule, and who cares enough, besides my mother, to follow it?
2. There are three overlapping Saturdays this year. And one wedding.
3. I believe this is my fourth major change, and I have not even yet begun my senior year of high school.