Umm...10 what?
There are times in your life that are meant to be stressful, and there are other times that are meant to be “chill times.” I believe I am at the crucial point in between the two, since I have stopped being stressed out in schoolwork but my summer jobs are rapidly beginning to fill my days with three and four year olds. Not that money is bad thing at all to make-it’ll greatly help me out in the fall when I am back home on the east coast and trying to find a job and tackle schoolwork at the same time. But right now I am starting to realize that summer no longer means this great time where you hang out with friends every day and lollygag around town worrying about nothing but if the rain will come that night or the next. As Memorial Day rolls closer and closer I feel overwhelmed with fitting everything I want to into this summer. I miss my third-floor buddy and she lives three hours away-she’ll be in Florida when the fall term starts, so it is important that I see her this summer. My love of my life roommate is in Japan with Richard Gere as her only companion, so I am jealous and yet miss her like crazy. And my saintly RA is chilling in the NY, leaving me in the middle of the country without a college companion to grab hold of. The asshole is busy doing things out there in the port, with his buddies and Kimberly, and the phone calls between us are starting to dwindle. Where did the year go? What about all the important conversations we’ve had? Suddenly my everyday life has been turned upside down and I am left here, sitting sickly in my kitchen wondering where they went. The first one I talked to when I got up and the last one I talked to before I went to bed-now she’s off speaking some foreign language with people are not going to remember her. Or, perhaps will remember her as the annoying American. And I can’t even see Paul. When you grow up, suddenly your guy friends, even those you consider brother-like figures, still have a tendency to come to grips with the fact that girls are more important than the girl that isn’t an option. Damn Boston. It’s not like I’d even like to be an option for him, but when someone tells you he’ll hang out with you then blows you off for a date, well it’s hard to understand where you fit into the grand scheme of life.
Then there are other things to worry about. My Laur is far away, and I haven’t been able to be with her in so long, and even the phone doesn’t come close to making me feel like we’re really having a relationship. I miss her hugs, her smiles, her short, dyed hair, and her way of giggling. I miss her.
But there is hope.
“Damn. You’re a fucking slut.” This is what happens when play three-card. It’s not like I wanted to start the swearing train up, but once someone lays the Ace and you only have low cards, it’s hard to stop. I missed these girls. I missed our talks. I missed Kelly Sue counseling…I missed Lauren not listening. And she needs to. I think that she is starting to figure that out, that listening is important, and that acting is even more important, but I just wish that she’d do it sooner. Because she needs someone to talk to in order for her life to flatten out and be happy. Kelly Sue, however, is in the light of perfection, doing everything that I would want her too, and having a good time doing it. I missed her confidence, her smile, her “Guys, I’m sorry,” and her hugs. Her “here’s one for no reason” hugs. Only Kelly Sue seems to understand my vast need for hugs. Of course, no one else visited me at school, and no one else understood the need. It’s not her fault. I mean, the love of my life roommate learned at the end of the year. I got all I needed.
“I might come visit you next year. Well, I’m going to visit her, so I figured while I am out there I could stop by and kill two birds with one stone.”
Visits are well appreciated. Boston is a great city, and there is nothing I’d rather gather from the city than memories of it with the people I love. Kelly Sue, Niks, Paul, and Marcus all came to see me, and now I’ll need some more visitors to make the city really worth it. There is so much to do. The ducks say it all. Those ducks that continually reminded me off all I was going to be doing this summer. Children in their boots, smiling for cameras and sitting upon the ever-patient birds, tamer than animals in a petting zoo. Although they cast a bright glare of copper-colored sunlight during the day, those ducks were the first thing I loved in Boston, and will always capture my heart and make me feel like I am young and worthy of living in such a city that can offer me so much.
Summertime. Starting with the tea and juice, a Palluzzi Pizza night, endless babysitting, chatting in the kitchen until one a.m., hugs, cheek-kisses, Tim’s cottage, hugs, babysitting, smiles, some tears, a couple of “it’ll be okay” ’s, every now and then a cuddle. Summertime-a start to something more. Four months. Four months to pan out everything in my life and make it seem complete and whole before ripping me up and making me go back. Back to my home, back to 828, splitting my time between 813 and 606, meeting new people, using the facebook as an excellent source of a new crush, or a new stalker victim as the case may be. More Kyle parties, more Harvard concerts, more visits to the crêpeiere, more visits to the Common. “Oh, Pope.”
Summertime. It’s summer and that’s what mode I’ll be in for the next four months. Welcome, summer. You’ve yet to defeat my spirits. You’ve yet to take hold of my heart and my soul. The lakes are calling me, the metro parks invite me for tea or Frisbee, friends want my company, the television stays off, and the computer is a mere artistic tool. Welcome, summer. It’s time for me to go out and play, and although you are slow coming on the temperature, I know that you are creeping over Michigan, watching out for all those unable to balance their lives through your months of occupation. But you wait and see. I’m able to do things you’d never thought humanly possible. I’ll warn you off until about mid-August, and just when you think you’ve overtaken me I’ll pull out the Labor Day card, and Paul and I will barbeque until your spirit is sequestered. There are still endless evenings left with my birthday buddy, there are endless nights left with my bonfire buddy who eventually will pass on his secrets, there are endless barbeques with my brother, movies and dancing in the kitchen with my other brother, endless scrabble games with Timmy C and Rach, hugs from Kelly Sue, talks with Laur, shopping with Lauren, conversations about life with Kates. There are still visits to Chicago to see my love Jason, and my sister, as well as Katie and Jen. There are still every-day visits from my neighbor-love, who always shows me a good way to fatten myself up. There are Pinochle games left with my family, movies on the couch left with my lost love, even if others join us, mall madness nights left with the boys of the town, and playground time left with my junior best friend. Oh Jeffrey, where have you gone? There is still time for my African-buddy, Brother Llama number 1, to hang out, when she returns, and my West Coast friend will join too. Oh, summer, how you wonder and plot and plan and scheme ways to overtake this energy I provide the world with. But you won’t. Summer, you will never catch it. You can feed on those too scared to come to this mid-western world, too afraid to once again switch to the east coat. Feed off those who can’t understand the ways of children, the joy of chalk and parks and rain puddles and handprints, who can’t decipher the three year olds or enjoy Dora the Explorer. Take hold of the souls of those who don’t enjoy late night talks and rainstorms and sun and clouds and a temperature scale of thirty degrees each day. Take the hearts of those who fear love, fear touch and feeling and change and movement and life and stay closed up by themselves letting life pass by like a firefly in the night sky, blinking in and out and living in a flash remember by perhaps a mere few other who will quickly die as well, or perhaps remembered by a small boy or girl who once caught the bug in a jar for a few hours on the fourth of July. Take the ones who can’t understand the joy of a hot dog and a bun, some catch up, and a can of soda. Or a baseball game in the back. Or a smile. A look. A moment. Here I go, Summer. There are millions left to chose from-you just have lost this one wild soul to her own making.
Then there are other things to worry about. My Laur is far away, and I haven’t been able to be with her in so long, and even the phone doesn’t come close to making me feel like we’re really having a relationship. I miss her hugs, her smiles, her short, dyed hair, and her way of giggling. I miss her.
But there is hope.
“Damn. You’re a fucking slut.” This is what happens when play three-card. It’s not like I wanted to start the swearing train up, but once someone lays the Ace and you only have low cards, it’s hard to stop. I missed these girls. I missed our talks. I missed Kelly Sue counseling…I missed Lauren not listening. And she needs to. I think that she is starting to figure that out, that listening is important, and that acting is even more important, but I just wish that she’d do it sooner. Because she needs someone to talk to in order for her life to flatten out and be happy. Kelly Sue, however, is in the light of perfection, doing everything that I would want her too, and having a good time doing it. I missed her confidence, her smile, her “Guys, I’m sorry,” and her hugs. Her “here’s one for no reason” hugs. Only Kelly Sue seems to understand my vast need for hugs. Of course, no one else visited me at school, and no one else understood the need. It’s not her fault. I mean, the love of my life roommate learned at the end of the year. I got all I needed.
“I might come visit you next year. Well, I’m going to visit her, so I figured while I am out there I could stop by and kill two birds with one stone.”
Visits are well appreciated. Boston is a great city, and there is nothing I’d rather gather from the city than memories of it with the people I love. Kelly Sue, Niks, Paul, and Marcus all came to see me, and now I’ll need some more visitors to make the city really worth it. There is so much to do. The ducks say it all. Those ducks that continually reminded me off all I was going to be doing this summer. Children in their boots, smiling for cameras and sitting upon the ever-patient birds, tamer than animals in a petting zoo. Although they cast a bright glare of copper-colored sunlight during the day, those ducks were the first thing I loved in Boston, and will always capture my heart and make me feel like I am young and worthy of living in such a city that can offer me so much.
Summertime. Starting with the tea and juice, a Palluzzi Pizza night, endless babysitting, chatting in the kitchen until one a.m., hugs, cheek-kisses, Tim’s cottage, hugs, babysitting, smiles, some tears, a couple of “it’ll be okay” ’s, every now and then a cuddle. Summertime-a start to something more. Four months. Four months to pan out everything in my life and make it seem complete and whole before ripping me up and making me go back. Back to my home, back to 828, splitting my time between 813 and 606, meeting new people, using the facebook as an excellent source of a new crush, or a new stalker victim as the case may be. More Kyle parties, more Harvard concerts, more visits to the crêpeiere, more visits to the Common. “Oh, Pope.”
Summertime. It’s summer and that’s what mode I’ll be in for the next four months. Welcome, summer. You’ve yet to defeat my spirits. You’ve yet to take hold of my heart and my soul. The lakes are calling me, the metro parks invite me for tea or Frisbee, friends want my company, the television stays off, and the computer is a mere artistic tool. Welcome, summer. It’s time for me to go out and play, and although you are slow coming on the temperature, I know that you are creeping over Michigan, watching out for all those unable to balance their lives through your months of occupation. But you wait and see. I’m able to do things you’d never thought humanly possible. I’ll warn you off until about mid-August, and just when you think you’ve overtaken me I’ll pull out the Labor Day card, and Paul and I will barbeque until your spirit is sequestered. There are still endless evenings left with my birthday buddy, there are endless nights left with my bonfire buddy who eventually will pass on his secrets, there are endless barbeques with my brother, movies and dancing in the kitchen with my other brother, endless scrabble games with Timmy C and Rach, hugs from Kelly Sue, talks with Laur, shopping with Lauren, conversations about life with Kates. There are still visits to Chicago to see my love Jason, and my sister, as well as Katie and Jen. There are still every-day visits from my neighbor-love, who always shows me a good way to fatten myself up. There are Pinochle games left with my family, movies on the couch left with my lost love, even if others join us, mall madness nights left with the boys of the town, and playground time left with my junior best friend. Oh Jeffrey, where have you gone? There is still time for my African-buddy, Brother Llama number 1, to hang out, when she returns, and my West Coast friend will join too. Oh, summer, how you wonder and plot and plan and scheme ways to overtake this energy I provide the world with. But you won’t. Summer, you will never catch it. You can feed on those too scared to come to this mid-western world, too afraid to once again switch to the east coat. Feed off those who can’t understand the ways of children, the joy of chalk and parks and rain puddles and handprints, who can’t decipher the three year olds or enjoy Dora the Explorer. Take hold of the souls of those who don’t enjoy late night talks and rainstorms and sun and clouds and a temperature scale of thirty degrees each day. Take the hearts of those who fear love, fear touch and feeling and change and movement and life and stay closed up by themselves letting life pass by like a firefly in the night sky, blinking in and out and living in a flash remember by perhaps a mere few other who will quickly die as well, or perhaps remembered by a small boy or girl who once caught the bug in a jar for a few hours on the fourth of July. Take the ones who can’t understand the joy of a hot dog and a bun, some catch up, and a can of soda. Or a baseball game in the back. Or a smile. A look. A moment. Here I go, Summer. There are millions left to chose from-you just have lost this one wild soul to her own making.