Summer. How monotonous.
No one to talk to, nothing exciting to see, no sounds to shake the air. Nothing different, not at all.
How could anyone like this?
- Oh, right. Because they are allowed to do whatever they want. They could decide to crash at a friendÆs house, or just bike to a different town. They could feel the rush of the wind and the heat of a giant bonfire, hear the city, all of it, the cars and the birds and the planes and the numerous people; they could watch the sparkling water of the sea, people spending a relaxing day fishing off the pier.
They could do anything they wanted, all in the pursuit of fun. They could rent a cherry picker, drive it to the beach, watch the sunset, then lift themselves higher and higher, all so that they could watch the sunset again. Everyone could just go loiter at the mall, just stand there and watch the customers, make up funny, insane backstories for the guy with the violin case, the woman in a black suit, or simply catch blockbuster after blockbuster after blockbuster until they get sick from the soda and popcorn.
Everyone else loved summer û they adored the gentle warmth of the sun, went crazy at the smell of gunpowder after their eyes savored the red and green lights that painted the sky and after their bodies absorbed the force of the explosions, salivated at the mere thought of lemonade and backyard barbeques.
-------------------------------
æHowÆs summer going for you?Æ
Today was like yesterday, and tomorrow wonÆt hold any deviations. Summer is just day after day of boring nothing.
Oh, sure, pretendingÆs a possible method to kill time, but those moments wouldnÆt stay as simple, nice daydreams. They would be fun, yes, but eventually the heart would get agitated, frustrated, and itÆd rage against the attempt to soothe it.
It was only pretending. It could only spawn bitter envy. What would start with closed eyes and a happy smile would end with frustrated glares and grinding teeth. Why bother?
So pretending was out. And the old summer standbys werenÆt enough to satisfy, anymore.
The characters were unique, the setting should have caused widened eyes, the plot was the work of a master.
But there was no connection; theyÆd try their damndest to draw attention, but flipping the pages was a chore; pressing the buttons did not amuse; keeping the eyes open û
Giving attention to hobbies always became such a headache come summertime.
There was disappointment. As usual. Summer was supposed to be a time of excitement and wonder, of strengthened bonds and newly formed friendships. The reality was that summer homework would be better than this.
æI guess it could be better.Æ
-------------------------------
æHey, still stuck at home? æ
Of course û thereÆs no where else to go.
Anything would be better than staying home, counting the days until summer was over. Taking orders at a cafÚ, volunteering at a hospital, picking up trash at the beach û anything, except thinking and regretting and fuming and pacing around the house for weeks on end.
People need social contact û real contact, not weak connections made via phone and chat room, not imaginary adventures with imaginary people.
At school, people connect. Over grades, over horrible teachers, over interesting lessons, over anything at all.
During summer, people will connect over favorite scenes in the latest explosion filled action flick, over a perfectly timed joke, over a day at the pool.
But during summer, thereÆs no one to bond with, nothing to bond over.
æYeah, for now.Æ
-------------------------------
æI gotta go to sleep early, ækay? WeÆre going to swim at the beach!Æ
àThereÆs really nothing to say to that, is there?
No, wait, there is:
Jealous. So jealous.
æYeah, I think IÆll hit the sack too. Night.Æ
And another day of summer ends. So many more to go.
No one to talk to, nothing exciting to see, no sounds to shake the air. Nothing different, not at all.
How could anyone like this?
- Oh, right. Because they are allowed to do whatever they want. They could decide to crash at a friendÆs house, or just bike to a different town. They could feel the rush of the wind and the heat of a giant bonfire, hear the city, all of it, the cars and the birds and the planes and the numerous people; they could watch the sparkling water of the sea, people spending a relaxing day fishing off the pier.
They could do anything they wanted, all in the pursuit of fun. They could rent a cherry picker, drive it to the beach, watch the sunset, then lift themselves higher and higher, all so that they could watch the sunset again. Everyone could just go loiter at the mall, just stand there and watch the customers, make up funny, insane backstories for the guy with the violin case, the woman in a black suit, or simply catch blockbuster after blockbuster after blockbuster until they get sick from the soda and popcorn.
Everyone else loved summer û they adored the gentle warmth of the sun, went crazy at the smell of gunpowder after their eyes savored the red and green lights that painted the sky and after their bodies absorbed the force of the explosions, salivated at the mere thought of lemonade and backyard barbeques.
-------------------------------
æHowÆs summer going for you?Æ
Today was like yesterday, and tomorrow wonÆt hold any deviations. Summer is just day after day of boring nothing.
Oh, sure, pretendingÆs a possible method to kill time, but those moments wouldnÆt stay as simple, nice daydreams. They would be fun, yes, but eventually the heart would get agitated, frustrated, and itÆd rage against the attempt to soothe it.
It was only pretending. It could only spawn bitter envy. What would start with closed eyes and a happy smile would end with frustrated glares and grinding teeth. Why bother?
So pretending was out. And the old summer standbys werenÆt enough to satisfy, anymore.
The characters were unique, the setting should have caused widened eyes, the plot was the work of a master.
But there was no connection; theyÆd try their damndest to draw attention, but flipping the pages was a chore; pressing the buttons did not amuse; keeping the eyes open û
Giving attention to hobbies always became such a headache come summertime.
There was disappointment. As usual. Summer was supposed to be a time of excitement and wonder, of strengthened bonds and newly formed friendships. The reality was that summer homework would be better than this.
æI guess it could be better.Æ
-------------------------------
æHey, still stuck at home? æ
Of course û thereÆs no where else to go.
Anything would be better than staying home, counting the days until summer was over. Taking orders at a cafÚ, volunteering at a hospital, picking up trash at the beach û anything, except thinking and regretting and fuming and pacing around the house for weeks on end.
People need social contact û real contact, not weak connections made via phone and chat room, not imaginary adventures with imaginary people.
At school, people connect. Over grades, over horrible teachers, over interesting lessons, over anything at all.
During summer, people will connect over favorite scenes in the latest explosion filled action flick, over a perfectly timed joke, over a day at the pool.
But during summer, thereÆs no one to bond with, nothing to bond over.
æYeah, for now.Æ
-------------------------------
æI gotta go to sleep early, ækay? WeÆre going to swim at the beach!Æ
àThereÆs really nothing to say to that, is there?
No, wait, there is:
Jealous. So jealous.
æYeah, I think IÆll hit the sack too. Night.Æ
And another day of summer ends. So many more to go.