from last fall

It’s funny how hard October tries to cling to summer.  September twenty-first—this is the last day of the season, officially.  Meanwhile, most of us ended our summers a month earlier.  While “carefree” or “relaxing” didn’t apply to most of our vacations, we still each, a little, wished the summer could last a bit longer.  Summer was different—summer had possibilities not-summer didn’t.  Summer jobs meant new people, new experiences, new responsibility; not-summer mean the same thing we, now seniors, had grown accustomed to over the last three years.  The same faces were always there—maybe with a few new ones here and there—maybe a few holding new significances—but still, similar, familiar faces you weren’t sure why you knew, but you knew just the same.  The same settings—backdrops for scenes that would change as circumstances and faces changed, but still had a hint of that old history.  September’s duty was to bring us back to this old stage, set with these backdrops, so that we could rearrange all of the characters, all of the faces, for this year’s installment of short stories.  Like the great writers we spend our legitimate hours reading and analyzing, our stories take on familiar patterns, as our personalities, ever-evolving but still growing out of the same root, lead us to make the decisions towards which our personalities would always guide us.  Each of our stories, though influenced by these new encounters we steal from the summer months, all have a faint hint of that sameness we claim we’re trying to evade.  We make mistakes we’ve made before; we’ve learned what we should and shouldn’t do and still too often gravitate towards that old behavior that makes us feel like us…

On the twenty-first of this particular September it was obvious that the day was aware of what its own date implicated; for the first time in several years, the sun, on the twenty-first, shone as thought it were trying to prove that the summer still endured, at least until midnight.  After that, people would be forced to call it “fall”, or “autumn”, if they were feeling particularly poetic.  Fall does have a negative ring to it—"fall" feels like the end of something.  Autumn seems to promise something new-ish, rather than just the time we use to mourn summer and pine for winter—autumn becomes its own season—one that highlights those in-between feelings that dominate these sheltered years in which we find ourselves caught at this particular moment in our lives.  Autumn is a part of nature, which makes our own fluctuating season feel more acceptable and endurable.  But don’t tell that to October.  Sitting outside on a mid-fall afternoon, you can feel October’s jealousy—a month that only gets to feel special on its very last day. 

This year October has decided to cry for attention by trying to behave a bit more like August.  The trees have stubbornly refused to change from their vibrant green and as a result, the water being tossed up on the rocks by a milder-than-usual mid-Atlantic breeze still shines with the brilliance of the woods up above it.  The wind itself is too lazy to change into the harsh autumn gusts it should be aware it is supposed to become.  Instead, it carries with it memories of the summer that was supposed to end a month earlier.  We can even feel a hint of some scenes and scents of summers from the past.  We don’t remember why these summers hold such good memories—I can’t place any particular moment or event—we just believe, because it was summer, that they must have existed.  I am surprised at how easy this setting can allow my mind to rest easy for the moment.  The radio perched carefully on a river rock, doesn’t seem to distract from Capote's prose, which are unfolding out of my little hands.  Instead, the lyrics seem to catch that rogue part of my mind that would otherwise wander to the distracting topics I’ve been trying to evade during this mini-vacation—the kind of thoughts that always seem to accompany September’s intrusion and autumn’s long reality.  Annoyed, I find my choice of beverage has proven more distracting than the sum of the entire serene setting we’ve carefully and unconsciously constructed and though, on vacation from the sameness I’ve been trying, with this pseudo-October-summer, to escape, my thoughts can’t help but turn back towards those I’ve been trying hardest to forget.  This Indian summer is shattered by memories unwillingly resurfaced through  the drowsy buzz of an amber ale.  I open my mouth to meditate on the one thing I want to get out of my mind’s daily repertoire, but close it again, thinking that, as long as I keep it inside, it’s not real and can’t hurt. 

Summer, you say?  Even real summer, that pre-September summer, is just a temporary fix—life is always waiting—just ask September twenty-first. 

worth the $.99 on itunes: "in the aeroplane over the sea" by neutral milk hotel. 

i hate when people call it 'beantown'

After eight hours of driving with most of my possessions stuffed into a little blue Saturn and a giant yellow Penske truck, then one week of packing them all into a REALLY white second-floor apartment, I have finally settled into Boston.  There's still quite a bit of wiggling to do to really get cozy, but the part of the city that I and my other roommates have chosen to call home reminds me more and more of "downtown" Gettysburg everyday, if my undergrad town had had ten times as many bars and a Dunkin' Donuts on every corner (the only DD in Adams County mythically burned down the year before I started college).  I'm excited to be in Allston, where, from a short walk to Rite-Aid, it appears the underground music scene is still fairly substantial; it's nice to know the area is more than just a blurb in the Aerosmith Wikipedia article.  

I wanted to move to Boston to put myself out of my element; I think a little bit of discomfort in my life was starting to become necessary, as the suburban routine was turning me into too much of a sleepy-eyed, easy-going small town girl.  Granted, there are a lot of things one can pick up in a small town that some of these big city kids won't ever understand.  They'll never comprehend the strategy of ducking away from the neighbors as they pack up the family mini van in the summer (they WILL ask you to feed their cats...and they have a lot of cats), or truly realize the REAL value of a gym membership (forgive me for this, but it's the only place in town where people are trying to get into shape, and unlike those at the grocery store, most look decent in their spandex).  They've never eaten a chocolate snowball with marshmallow while watching pig races at the fair, and would be terrified to find that Independence Day fireworks are discharged (rifles, too), on residential streets, two weeks before and two weeks after the 4th (they would also have a poor view of the Fourth of July parade because they wouldn't know to put out blankets or lawn chairs on the parade route a week early to hold their seats).  They've never had the chance to be the Buddy Poppy Queen or the Dundalk Idol, or even to see a tiny cocker spaniel dressed in an Orioles cap and a star-spangled t-shirt ride a skateboard down Main Street.  Though I'm sure, at least in Allston, they'll encounter a hobo or two who tries to pat them on the back while running (a little encouragement never hurt anyone, right?)  Sure, the city kids might have lettered in track or football, but did they ever ride an ATV or a firetruck decorated in window chalk in the homecoming parade, the biggest event of the year?

I'm a little burnt out from moving and starting classes (surprise, surprise, I'm actually supposed to be writing a short paper right now--why do you think I'm back on Blogger?), so I'll just say now, that I'll miss my town and all that it's made me over the years, and one day I'll write a very ridiculous book that no one will believe about everything I've seen, but I couldn't be happier to be up north (this feeling will probably last until the first big snow hits).  

worth the $.99 on itunes: damien rice's "rootless tree" reveals some other feelings i could express towards the past.  additionally, it's great for making other drivers nervous, if you play it loud enough in your car.  if you don't mind profanity, this needs to be on your playlist.