Summer is clearly over and everyday it gets just a bit colder, here in Amsterdam. This summer was wonderful; sunny skies were not abound, but the season's energy was fluid in the air. Now that summer is over, I feel as if I've moved further forward down this road whose destination will ultimately lead me to who I want to be. Carrie Bradshaw posed a similar thought in an episode of Sex and the City I recently watched: at what point are we who we want to be, and at what point is one able to recognize when that desired self has arrived? Aspiration and glamour, key trademarks of the bourgeoisie, are social tools whose roots took shape in the late eighteenth century, in the Western world. So often can looking forward be glamourous, and thus deceptive; while looking around can seem to be somewhat not-needed. But stopping to take in the surroundings of any given situation, is essential. I find it enlightening to stop, look, absorb, and continue. Sometimes I even repeat the process, or part of it. I'm a repeater; I repeat activities over and over again. My step is so often instep with the forces around me, that I feel as nothing could slow me down, and everything about life is wonderful. Most often my life always is, and these wonderful days usually take up about 350 of the 356 throughout the course of one year. Happy days; those are the best days. But those six, other days; well, those are not fun. Yesterday was one of these six. The day began with a wonderful run to the Montelbaanstoren and past my beloved flamingos at Artis. Later it began to rain, luckily after I returned home from running. Rain makes Amsterdam even damper, and colder, than it already is in Autumn. After my morning tram ride (because I don't believe in cycling in the rain), the day continued its interestingness. Why is it that sometimes one's qualities can shine, sparkle, and illuminate; while at other times those same qualities can lose their luster, for a quick moment? It's on days like these six, when internal-hurricanes surge, that I must remind myself, what I wrote to myself, in January 2012:
'I am on a path. I'm not sure where that path is leading. But I know I'm destined for great things. And ever since I was young, I've been chasing what it is that I can't see–my future.'
I must not forget to stay true to that path, stay true to myself, and realize that, as the days begin to darken, my life has only just begun. Next week I turn 27, but I'd be happier with 28. Even number are more my style.