Adjusting to Life in Heaven

I am adjusting to my new life quite nicely. It isn’t hard though, as my new life consists of little more than sleeping in late, reading like crazy, and spending time with my favorite people. Of course, a considerable amount of time has also been devoted to finding a job and while I wish more than anything I were presently employed, I am not. Until that day, I continue to hunt. I spent my first days of vacation completely cleaning my room and moving back in, which is now finished. It is almost as if I never left. Almost. I have also managed to see a few friends from Tucson, which led to many happy hours of rock banding. Perhaps the best aspect of vacation, however, has been the rain. The perfectly overcast, warm rainy days. It has been heaven on earth. I simple cannot wait for the monsoon season. It is the paramount element of my Arizona summers.

This summer paradise has unconventionally left me with very little to say. Or maybe I am just anxious to get back to my book before I leave for the movies in the next 30 minutes. Either way, I’m lazily saying good bye.

Salinger Needn't Worry

I am literally sitting here watching the minutes on my clock tick by. My chair is uncomfortable. My right foot is smashed up against the desk. I would be writing this in bed but Jeeves’s battery is dying. The day is almost over but I am not going to try to go to bed this early. Last night I was awake until 4 am because I went to sleep when I wasn’t tired. I actually have this other theory that I waited too long to go to sleep which is why I couldn’t, but I’m not sure if that makes sense. My right foot itches. I am full of cake. My headphones are only in my left ear. I am listening to the “Happy Thanksgiving Mix” I made for David last year. It is not hot or cold in my room. I have packed one suitcase and half of one box. My phone just went off. I do not have anything to do tonight. I have a Spanish listening final tomorrow but I have no idea how I would even begin to go about studying for that. Only 3 more days until I am practically done.

Holden Caulfield’s stream of consciousness was so much more interesting than this. I guess it has just been too long since I was an angsty 16-year-old. I was never as angsty as Holden Caulfield though. I don’t know many people who could hold a candle to him in that area. I would have hated him in real life but man did I fall in love with that character. He was so undeniably refreshing. Even if I couldn’t believe a single word he said.

Let me try again. I’ll try to channel some inner 19-year-old angst. Maybe it is just as good.

I just realized it is only Tuesday. I have been thinking it is Wednesday for a good 3 hours now. If that is not cause for bitterness and hatred I don’t know what is. Forget being unable to talk to the only person you have ever cared about, forget losing your childhood innocence; it is only Tuesday for crying out loud. Holden would have hated that.

Nope. It’s not working. Maybe I don’t have any angst left. Maybe I’m really not a teenager anymore. How sad. Plus, I took way too many pauses for that to be considered real stream of consciousness. I was genuinely disappointed to discover it is only Tuesday however.

My rabid audience is insisting I hurry up and publish this. My my it is exhausting to be wonderful.

Good Night.

A Bit of Nostalgia with Your May Day

The air feels like summer today. And I’m not talking about the temperature. I’m not talking about the repressive, suffocating heat that comes along with Arizona summers. It’s been hot for weeks and we still have 30 degrees and many more months to go. That stale, blistering air is not what I’m referring to.

The air feels like freedom today. And it feels still; a perfect summer stillness. It’s slightly overcast too, the way it was lots of days spent on Raystown Lake. Slightly overcast, but not enough to keep us out of the water or the boat or off the beach. It’s weird how well I can recall summers spent at Raystown. How I can remember the streets of Huntington, and the layout of the grocery store where we bought our food once a year for only five years. How I can remember exactly what the Oar Shop looks like, inside and out, and the precise feeling I got while feeding the catfish in the marina; a mixture of horror and extreme curiosity. I can tell you unerringly how much I hated loading our luggage into wheelbarrows and taking them down the path to the boat, and how much I enjoyed the restaurant where we sometimes bought ice cream. It’s weird that I can remember how much I loved playing card games after the sun went down and the moment my dad invented “Little Noodle and Cheeto Soup.” I can see the island graveyard in my mind and feel both mine and my mother’s incredulity that my dad actually found it. I can see the trees and feel the poison ivy and taste the garlic we ate to ward off the mosquitoes. I remember how important I felt to be called Navigator and sit at the wheel with my dad and point out which numbers on the map I wanted to visit for the day. And I can feel the crushing disappointment that accompanied seeing all of the houseboats, including ours, making their way slowly back to the marina on Saturday morning.

In the grand scheme of things I didn’t spend much of my life on Raystown Lake. I have now spent just as much time on Lake Powell and filling my summers with other activities. But today the air felt exactly like summer and it felt exactly like Raystown, Pennsylvania.

Happy May Day.