Fall is nature’s answer to the depressing realization on a Sunday evening that work awaits you in the morning.
Publish date:
October 9, 2013
fall, seasons, pumpkin spice lattes

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Hello everyone. My name is Lauren, and I’m a summer baby.

Born to my mother during the peak of a heat wave toward the end of summer, I live for warmth. I relish in it, really; on the days this summer where the heat index was in the low hundreds, my friends would be sweating and miserable, shaking their impotent fists at an uncaring atmosphere in the hopes that some weather spirit would have pity on their situation.

Meanwhile, I could be found wearing as little as possible and spread-eagled on a beach somewhere soaking up every ambient wave of radiation that came our way. Summer is the time that I cheerily celebrate the source of my friends’ torment, causing them to daydream about strangling me.

They, however, have their revenge not a few short months later, when the air chills with unforgiving arctic iciness and the trees, fearing what’s to come, withdraw their energy and drop their leaves as a necessary, annual sacrifice. They have the cold, dreary bullshit that we like to call Fall.

The days slowly get shorter and darker, but not slowly enough for the transition to go unnoticed. Coats and scarves become necessities instead of cute fashion statements, and everything, from flora to fauna, scrambles to group and regroup before the deadly onslaught of winter.

Plants withdraw into the earth to lie in wait for the warmth of spring, and animals gorge themselves on what few food items are left to satiate them through the coming inhospitable ice-famine. Even bears know better than to be conscious during winter, and all of their fall is spent foraging to survive what’s to come.

Bears are basically the grizzliest, scariest animals alive, and if they’re making a point to make themselves scarce, I’m not about to ignore that for scarves and whatever the hell else it is that people chatter about the moment September 1st rolls around.

“But Lauren!” I can hear you protesting from afar, “Lauren, those are all critiques of winter! Fall isn’t any of those things!” A pause, probably to take a sip from your Pumpkin Spice Latte, clutched between mittened hands, “Fall is so much better!”

I disrespectfully disagree. Fall is hunger and desperation before a season of death and slumber. It’s nature’s answer to the depressing realization on a Sunday evening that work awaits you in the morning, or the sobering reality that you have to see the same co-workers you were drunk in front of at a mid-week work mixer, hung over and drowsy, the next day. Fall is the cold, cloudy transition from joy to pain, and it would be so much easier to bear if people would just stop celebrating it.

Everyone romps around to do their thrift-store circuits on a search for the chunkiest of Fall sweaters, gushing about their Pumpkin Spice Lattes and hot apple ciders and firepits. Don’t get me wrong, I can also appreciate knit garments and proprietary warm beverages, but they’re a consolation prize for losing the constant warmth that would ensconce my summertime body and receiving gloomy, overcast skies and shorter days in return.

Also, Autumn firepits are crap. Who has two thumbs and is completely disinterested in having half of her body burning up while the other half is freezing? THIS lady.

The leaves that everyone seems to love, aside from being colorful harbingers of the end of all things green and growing, are also seemingly specially formulated to crunch into an irritating dust that fills my every sinus cavity and makes breathing a struggle. Halloween can be fun if you overlook the super racist costumes and the fact that it’s usually way too cold to be whatever sexy character allotted for you as a lady, which is a chore in and of itself.

Would that I could, I’d stop autumn from coming and keep the world in perpetual, blissful summer. Short of becoming a real-life Captain Planet villain and ordering that everyone in the world drive stretch hummers fueled with whale oil, however, my dream will never come true. In the meantime, I can make myself feel better by openly chastising anyone with the audacity to like something that I do not also like.

What’s your favorite not-fall season?