Summer Blues

And so here I sit, or rather lay, in the midst of summer and zero thoughts hoping that something will magically flow from my fingertips as I force them to scurry over a keyboard. This is by far my least favorite part about my least favorite season, the lack of thought and intellectual stimulation. So far, I have read little, written less, and watched more movies than I am willing to admit. Summer used to be my favorite season, as it is for many kids, but of late it has been unquestionably my least favorite, the bane of my intellectual existence, and here is why: Summer is an illusion. For 12+ years we are led to believe that summer is a time to lay around and veg out, which I suppose it is for children who spend their lives in a school all year long. But this is yet another one of those scary childhood illusions that you will be knocked out of as soon as you start thinking about your own money and must survive, even during the hot sticky months of June, July, August, and sometimes September. Everyone else in the world, namely adults, works throughout the summer. And thank goodness! If the rest of my natural life were to be cursed with these three months I may not respect the man who invented the three month break's natural life as well as I ought. I greatly look forward to a day where my job will run year round and I will have occupation even on the hottest and most miserable day of the year.

There is something so disturbing about having your thoughts stop, unless of course they have never begun in the first place. This is the exact place of disturbance that I have found myself for the past two and a half months, one of total and complete dead brain. This is unusual for me. My problem is usually the reversal, an inability to turn my thoughts off rather than trouble starting them in the morning and keeping them running throughout the day. My greatest desire in the morning when I wake up is to do something worthwhile in the form of writing. Even if it isn't a great work, something that will get the rusty gears turning and challenge someone's thoughts. Instead of doing this however, I usually open a page to my blog and to my journal, hoping that something will write itself and inevitably walk away with both still blank. It is as though I were trying to go somewhere splendid and just as I climb into my car, cute and primped and smelling great, it decides to take a vacation and not start. I sit in my driveway, turning the key over time and time again with no result. My problem? I don't ever get out and look under the hood! I haven't done any work, but simply hope and expect the problem to fix itself. Unfortunately, as I'm sure those of you who have ever faced a problem before will know, they rarely do so without some kind of work, even if it is only the work of working the problem out in one's head, there is still effort involved.

Of course I would do so, that is work the problem, get out and look under my hood, except that the time of year that I find myself in tells me not to work. Everything that has ever directed my thoughts on summer has told me not to do any work. This creates a serious battle when my learned behavior and the necessity of living and functioning come head to head. As you can see, the latter came out ahead this time, as I have indeed written a blog. Perhaps not an overtly interesting one, but still a decently long one. And despite how good it may or may not be, it has provided me with a sense of accomplishment and will save the creator of the three month break's natural life a few more hours at least of natural functioning.