For the first time in, I believe, my life, these two past weeks have been torture. Normally these would be days of sadness and trepidation.
It started, of course, when I was in school. I hated it. I missed at least nine days of kindergarten because I threw such a gargantuan temper tantrum that my parents, late in opening up the store, just decided to leave me at home and beat the shit out of me later that evening. (They didn't because they were so tired. It came out on other days, at different times. That may be how I learned to be passive-aggressive.) But I had to go to school, and even though I was a pretty good student, I pined for the summer. To this day, nothing beats the feeling of the last day of school, particularly anticipating that final bell, that sound of freedom from educational servitude. Once that bell rung, all of us students ran the hell out of school, knowing we had three months to do whatever the fuck we wanted, without teaches or rules or consequences.
I've obviously been out of school, at least the rigorous schedule of high school, for almost two decades now, but I think the schedule of not having to go to school for the summer (an antiquated sched based on the nation's agricultural past where children had to help on the farm) has instilled in everyone a surreally different feeling towards summer. I bet that people who work -- well, full-time, so people unlike me -- still feel differently about the summertime -- personally, not just because they themselves have kids whose days change once school ends. To me, and I think others, that sense of freedom once you run out the doors of school on the last day never goes away. You're more carefree during the summer. You don't think that hard during the summer -- which may mean that you takes things easier, or you let your emotions get away with you and you do impulsive things, whether it be hitting on a girl or, uh, get drunk and start a fight. It could be the sun or the heat, but I think we're just, for lack of a better word, trained to behave differently because of the summer. And it's going to be that way all our lives, no matter what we do now.
And yet I can't wait for Labor Day to come this year. Nothing too drastic's going to change, even though the State Fair will be done by then, and there won't be any kids running around the street anymore because they're back in school, and entertainment-wise the new TV season won't begin for another couple weeks.
A large part of my changed feelings (at least for this summer's end) stem from all the fucking changes that have come. August has truly been a mensis horribilis for me, what with the news my parents are closing the store, several friends and colleagues facing personal and family emergencies, and things surrounding me that just don't feel, um, safe.
But I also think part of my antipathy towards what normally would be a sentimental, partly-angry look back towards the death of summer can be attributed to what I liked best about summer turning on me. This is a time of no rules and responsibilities, and a total dive into recklessness and fun. That mindset has been fun for me in past summers, but not this time. What was a floating, easygoing mindset this summer has been a stultifying, and in fact dangerous, way of wiling away my days. Me just going about my waking hours -- and sure, I've been trying to find work and writing and otherwise making my days productive -- has made me think there's not just something more but something foreboding that is happening and/or will be happening soon. I've felt like I have not been paying attention, or doing the right thing, and that I will pay for my insouciance or lack of maturity soon. Or, I might be paying for that now because my parents are killing the store.
I'm not communicating this well because I can't quite describe my feelings. You know, maybe it's the heat; it's past 90 today, the first time in some time, maybe the last time this year, even though it's been hot for a hell of a long time. But I feel I have been lazy all summer, like I always have been, and this time I whave and/or will pay for that, whatever that is. And although something bad might happen soon, a part of me thinks the problem is the looseness of summer. Labor Day is thus a finish line, a light at the end of the tunnel, and maybe, hopefully, things will get better as soon as The Unofficial Beginning Of Fall begins.
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