Summer Vacation 2: The Secret of Akthar’s Tomb

Things can happen at an alarmingly rapid pace when you’re young, and I’m conditioned to it now so much that—to my great dismay—it was a simple matter to shift from the breakneck pace of college to the infinitesimal flow of suburban nothingness. Two weeks ago I was reveling in the crazed abandon that is the last week of the college year: laughing maniacally, soaked in beer, as I writhed rhythmically on a table, surrounded by like-minded peers in a house full of mirth. (That image is a metaphor and also not one.) And then, as if by some temporal anomaly, not a day later I found myself sitting in the basement of my parents’ house, alone and frustratingly sober, confused as to my purpose and what my next step ought to be. Okay, maybe it was a little jarring.

The Return has been neither as great nor as awful as it could have been, but the sheer plainness of being back home is enough to turn every day sour. Objective Number One was ostensibly to get a job, and I’ve yet to even begin my meager attempts, trying to ward off inevitable failure for as long as I can. (Shit, I couldn’t find employment last summer, when the economy and job market weren’t in the shitter.) I suppose the next step is to find some volunteer work, which would be fine, really, except that I’m not sure where to start. This is problematic on another level, which is that I fucking have to do a bunch of community service for college—like, by a year from now—and not knowing what the hell to do just serves to reignite my infinite anxiety about the general directionless nature of my expensive college education.

But, enough moping. Maybe the summer will hold some grand surprises. I’ve at least made contact with some high school friends, and shared a few hopeful laughs. The summer is long, but that length is a boon, not a burden. So much time, so many possibilities! I can do anything. I can learn so much. I can self-improve. Out of tedium and despair, a man is born anew.

Ah, who am I kidding. This summer’s gonna blow.

End of an Era

Well, here we are. Here I am, anyway. I don't know what this year has meant. When I started this blog in September, in a drunken haze, and even when I started writing in it semi-regularly, at the end of that semester, I was in a very different place than I am now. My living situation, my scholastic plan, the country I live in have changed in superficial and genuine ways. I don't know if I accomplished much of anything. One thing that I did succeed in doing was becoming closer to the people in my daily life, and having fun and exciting experiences. (Yes, this is corny. Go fuck yourself.) I've decided I don't really mind anything as long as there are people around who I care about and who will have my back. I hope I can keep that feeling in the future. I hope I can honestly profess to have it. In any case, it won't be long, Hampshire College, mon amour. I put that in italics so it would have more of an impressive bilingual appearance.

'til next year,
HFC

P.S. I'll write in the blog over the summer, though it may change in format and/or title. We'll see.

The Final Sprint

In the airport lounge. It's 4:30 A.M. Workin'. Workin'. Workin'. Beer, coffee, and Subway in my system. Saw Star Trek earlier. It was rad. Shit's happening this weekend. Too much. Have to read. Exam... Tuesday. No. I. Can't. But. I. Must. Yes. It's on. Last week. Long summer. What the hell.

?