Day Two, NaNoWriMo. 7:14 AM. Already I'm at the rotunda in the Health Sciences Building at UW. I'm not usually even awake at this hour and yet here I am already. I wish i could say valiant intentions swept me up and inspired me to bound out of bed this morning, but it was more realistically a crawl towards the door, visions of gingerbread lattes dancing in my head.
On the topic of gingerbread, I miss fall. Or more precisely, I miss New England fall. There's nothing like it. And if there was a time for me to get homesick, this is it. Last fall is still so vivid in my mind -- the sweet-tartness of cranberry walnut bread from Au Bon Pain, early crisp apple-cented mornings walking to Harvard Sq., the newly-released Death Cab for Cutie album Translatlanticism that I listened to relentlessly on chunky headphones that kept my ears warm. The crunch of leaves in the silence between songs. I wore my favorite oatmeal scarf yesterday because it was cold, and I remembered how poorly wool and water mix. My old way of doing things will not work in Seattle. The leaves are changing but it's different. Today it's cold and raining. I like the rain. But it's not the fall I've known for the past 27 years.
It's election day. I hope you are all voting. I already voted. This city was mad about voting this year. You could register to vote at all the cafes and concerts. At the Rilo Kiley show last month, they had a screen and projector showing frame after frame of anti-Bush images and statistics involving "...what if everyone at this show voted?" There's the Future Soundtrack for America on the radio and the Moveon.org people banging on doors and everyone trying to get us "Gen X'ers" and "Gen Why?s" to vote. Every other lawn, door, window or car on my street has some mouthful of bile for George Bush. At the Bright Eyes show last week, Conor Obherst thanked the people who had sent him flowers before the show, but he said if you wanted to really show the bands you loved your support, vote for John Kerry on November 2nd.
So it's time for espresso and to end my little finger-warm-up for the morning and actually get to work on the whole novel thing. What a novel idea. (doh!) I'm totally not going to be able to do this. I can tell you right now.
In the words of Josh Ritter, "They say some prophecies are self-fulfilling, but I've had to work for all of mine."
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