"Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself"
                                                                                  -Charlie Chaplin

Monday, July 13, 2009

Ghosts of Summers Past

What is it about this time of year that changes the rules of engagement for daily life? As the temperature rises, the standards of general human interaction seem to slowly slump. What is it about this weather that justifies our willingness to treat each other differently? For better or for worse, Summer affects our ability to think and act clearly with one another.

What else could explain the statistical increase in road-rage? Mine flares up as I sit in typical traffic or I struggle to find parking in the usual spots. Out of the car, my work decorum quickly fizzles when yet another ego neglects to uphold their end of a bargain. Generally speaking, my temper rises with the temperature.

Conversely, what else could account for the statistical increase in the libido? What percentage of summer romances - whose purpose typically serve us through the lonely winter months and politely fade into oblivion when the earth warms for another likely summer - end unjustly under the guise of autumnal emotions. Worse, what percentage of these get filed under "Growing Experience" or "I Wasn't Ready" and are cast away before they can even ripen?

I find myself indulging in this limitlessness Summer emotive state.

There is a general increase in the heightened state of emotion in my day to day life during these months. I find myself reminiscing more about the past few Summers. Old friends singing old songs, new friends sharing firsts, new experiences in general; I keep thinking about the defining characteristics of my Summer months. I try to recall my state of mind. Every Summer conjures up a singular, definitive experience and/or a particular emotional state.

So, every time I lie in bed and feel the warm air across my face or I smell the warm earth or I taste the salt of my own perspiration, I experience a great love or last picnic in our Fortress of Solitude or a loud Sunday dinner teaming with political satire. I am having great difficulty disassociating these overwhelming memories with my present senses.

I also wouldn't have it any other way.





0 Thoughts: