Fall Is Upon Us

The horrendous heat wave has (hopefully) passed for good, fellow Oklahomans. Like a fine wine, the leaves on the trees will become more appealing with age. The bold, vibrant greens will slowly transition into a mellow array of oranges, yellows, and browns. The soft, fleshy texture will leave them and they will shrivel up. Detached from their life force, dead in the gutter, trampled underfoot and scattered to the four corners of the world, the once sought after shade in the summer will litter the ground like locusts in a plague.

The waves will swirl around your feet, drawing the heat out from your body. The goosebumps raise every hair on your skin as a northern wind rushes between the cracks in your fingers. The spring showers' work is slowly undone as everything around you reverts to a lifeless state. The nurturing sunshine that made your heart blossom seems farther away than ever.

Every year, month, day, hour, minute, second, decision, expectation, distrust, and promise you have ever made has led up to the moment you're living in right now. All of the moments in the past were made up of moments just like that one happening as we speak. Every grain of knowledge inside of you floats away like a mote into the cosmos.

She paved the way for the spring rain that grew the grass and the trees. She was lurking behind the sunshine that grew your love into a beautiful flower. She is the frigid north winds that make you shudder; the waves that draw your life away have a name, and that name is Autumn. Love will writhe in defeat as the seasons change like all things do, and the dead, cold hearts will be kicked aside. They will decompose, rot, and be forgotten as they slowly amalgamate into the earth.

Time will pass. Hipsters will take pictures of their pumpkin lattes and post them to Instagram. The snow will fall and melt, and the sun will shine again. The warm rains will seep into the ground, and the forgotten, dead, and rotten love from the year before will serve one final purpose and fertilize the new grass. The leaves will bud more bountifully than the year before. The sun will beam once more, and the memories that would keep you from repeating past mistakes are thrown into the ocean, only to rise again months later as an ironic souvenir, along with the numbing waves at your feet in what you hoped would be the distant future, but inevitably happened upon like wildfire, and without remorse.

Your footprints will be left behind you in the sand as you pace mournfully, only to be washed away with the cold winter waves. The tears you cry will be blow away by the chill winds, and for a time your hope will, like all things, die, only to be reborn with the new year, blossom in the spring and summer sun, and pass on once more.

Human beings are one with nature, and our behavior mimics each other. Whether we came first or nature did I don't know, but I do know that there is always hope in the future, as well as the knowledge of futility. Like the blades of grass and the leaves on the branches, our hope will spring to life and die just as swiftly, until all things pass. This is the sorrow of all men and women. This is our curse. This is our fall.

November is my melancholic ranting month.

So, I'm going to rant about stuff. Stuff I don't like. Stuff I do like. Stuff other people like, and I don't really have an opinion on, but I'll still rant about them just because I like to spark up controversy and be argumentative. The list could go on.

Rant about them in one blog post? Too mainstream. Seeing as how I can't find the time to take thirty minutes out of my daily schedule of getting overly-excited when one person "likes" one of my incredibly insightful status on Facebook and playing the five real chords and one chord that's probably a chord but I just kind of made up in different sequences and tempos on the guitar I stole from my parents closet in an attempt to make something cool sounding, I'm just going to disperse my rant that I've already written over the next week, or month, or however long I feel like it, because I can do what I want, and also because forget you, society.

Also, that last sentence was over 100 words long. I'm mentally patting myself on the back right now.

So there.

Things that make me want to cry.

Have you ever had one of those days where you just need to sit down and think? Well, that happens to me all the time. And for some inexplicable reason, these songs help me get the deeper, more tender part of my brain to start working. I don't have like, a written out list of things that make me weepy, but these music pieces I've compiled here are just a few of the great works that make me feel all mushy on the inside.