Entries at the Close of Summer

Wednesday, 25 July 20—
The airport is an interesting place. I always wonder where people are headed and why. What are the reasons this enormous, random group of people have all touched down in the same building? It’s fascinating to consider all the purposes we’re just thrown together so temporarily. Cross-country flights are strange things.
I feel I’m growing up in a way tonight. I’ve traveled by myself a lot in the last few years, but this is my first red eye flight. I’m not concerned about it—unless I discover Cillian Murphy on my plan and he happens to take me hostage in my seat. Mostly I’m just not looking forward to my three-hour layover in New York. A) Layovers are annoying. B) especially at 5am. C) when I want to go play in New York.
I’m at an interesting point in my life. I feel like there’s been some kind of change in me, even in the last week or so. All of a sudden I can actually visualize myself going places, doing things, seeing the country. I can see myself actually flying, not just wanting to fly. I don’t know what direction I’m going, exactly, but for the first time in a while—maybe ever—I feel like there is direction: it’s forward. I don’t know where Forward is going to take me. Boston, for grad school? Disney World, for an internship? Somewhere I’m performing, or working a modest job at some trendy company in a big city? Maybe I’ll go abroad and try my hand at London like my cousin Maggie is right now. Maybe learning German will take me somewhere I haven’t even considered yet. I have no idea, but I’m happy at the prospect of facing whatever it is I’m going to find.

Saturday, 27 July 20—
My trip to Maine has been unusual—far more blink-and-you-miss-it than I anticipated. I don’t want to leave tomorrow because it means life has to kick in before fall semester starts. I wish I could stay in this little red house on this little lake with such lovely weather forever and ever.

Sunday, 28 July 20—
B.Y. is going to be in my German class this fall. Actually, having had time to accept and mull over that fact, I think it could be a lot of fun if I don’t let myself feel weird about it. Also, if I can make myself look passably acceptable enough to force him to occasionally think about how he loved me once. Wow. That’s strange to write. He loved me once. And I loved him, I guess—though I thought myself much farther gone than I actually was. Interesting view, hindsight.

Thursday, 2 August 20—
Stop this train
I wanna get off & go home again
I can’t take the speed it’s moving in
I know I can
But honestly, won’t someone stop this train?
--John Mayer

Saturday, 4 August 20—
It turns out that my friend O, who has been noncommittal toward one sexual persuasion over another, may have tried to hook up with C—the very C I’ve spent the summer ogling from a distance. O’s attempted hook-up probably took place around the same time C allegedly tried to/maybe did hook up with B. I think M has crushes on both C and B, because I think M is gay but hasn’t told me yet. It sucks to how my friends—my guy friends—all like each other, and not me.
You know, for a girl in Happy Valley, I’m sure finding myself in the company of a lot of ambiguously gay men. Not that I care entirely, it’s just…interesting.

Monday, 6 August 20—
I was thinking about my sister Elizabeth today. She is so freaking rad. I’ll be honest, Lizzy and I haven’t always gotten along spectacularly. It’s definitely improved with age and experience. I think I blame myself for not being more grown up. I’m probably being too hard on myself, but Liz has always been grown up beyond her years. She looks older than she is, first of all. When people meet us together, if they even catch the fact we’re sisters, they usually think she’s the older sibling. It’s more than looks. She’s wise, and so in tune—with the spirit, with herself, with the needs of others.
Lizzy is good at everything. Admittedly, not without hard work, but I don’t feel like she’s a workaholic. She’s just efficient. She’s an unbelievable student, sought after by universities all over the world. She is one of the most talented young trombone players I’ve heard, and noted musicians from Julliard professors to Dave Matthews Band agree. She sings, plays piano, acts in plays. She’s athletic, funny and personable. If I didn’t love her, I might try to convince myself that I hate her, but only because I’m a little jealous that I seem to come up so short in comparison.
She’s one of the most solid people I know. She is who she is, and doesn’t apologize for it, but she’s also actively searching to further define herself. She effectively learns from other peoples’ mistakes, along with their successes, and diverse thinking and standards seem to only solidify her sense of self.
As I’ve learned to grow up I realize she’s more an example than I am. She makes me realize I need to step up my game. In some ways, subtly and unknowingly, she has made me realize it’s okay we’re so different. It’s okay we have different strengths, even when it comes to our shared interests. She supports me and is concerned about me. Every now and then she’ll somehow remind me it’s okay to confide in her and voice the feelings I’m so intent on keeping to myself. Her advice is never pretentious. She’s genuine. And even though she cares about a lot of people, she doesn’t care about them the way she does me—and not even because she’s obligated. I used to wish for more siblings when I was little, but I realize now that our family is God-given. Lizzy and I only have each other. It’s pretty cool I get to keep her to myself.

Tuesday, 7 August 20—
I’m starving. This diet isn’t very thrilling. It had better PAY OFF!!!

Sunday, 12 August 20—
“Happiness does not depend on what happens outside of you, but what happens inside of you. It is measured by the spirit with which you meet the problems of life.”
--Harold B. Lee


Monday, 13 August 20—
The last few days have been very pensive for me. I’m filled with a lot of different emotions and thoughts, all jumbled together so that I’m feeling very conflicted. Not negative or pessimistic exactly, just conflicted. I’m not really sure how to find a sense of calm, or where. I just wish I could sort out all my various feelings and have a sure knowledge of the paths I should be taking and focusing on. So many to consider! Too many, I’m afraid. I don’t care for my current mixed-up feelings.

Thursday, 16 August 20—
I burned my leg when I was climbing off my friend T’s motorcycle last night. The burn is approximately three inches long and two inches wide, and it hurts, though not as badly as I expected. It looks like a random tan spot and the only peculiar thing about it is the blister on it. Of course, that’s not a dreadfully good sign. My sister the medical assistant informed me that either my leg isn’t used to being burned right there so it’s just reacting like a bad sunburn, or the burn is so bad it killed the nerves in that area, so it’ll hurt like a son of a beesting tomorrow or Saturday.
But on the bright side, I had a really good night, so I don’t mind quite so much. If it persists, I’ll just wrap it in bubble-wrap and make Ryan go to Carbondale, PA for fresh yams.

Sunday, 19 August, 20—
I love my room. I love the layout, I love my furniture, I love the relics from my life. It’s the smallest room I think I’ve ever had, but I love it in a way I haven’t loved a bedroom since my childhood.
Lying on my bed, in my room, makes me not even want to leave—not want to even go to another part of the house. I wish I could just transplant this room into where ever I move for school. Maybe part of my nostalgic connection to it stems from the realization that it’ll never been the same. I feel the way I did when I moved to the dorms freshman year, like Wendy leaving the nursery. Moving somewhere for fall and winter semesters wouldn’t be so significant except I’ve lived at home this last year, giving me time to reconnect with this room and make it belong to me again. I don’t expect I’ll live in this room anymore, except on vacations. It’s unnerving to have to face an unwelcoming, rather temporary new apartment bedroom.
I feel a weird sense of completion at the end of the summer because I’ve been going to school all this time, so it’s not really like going “back to school” or anything. The overriding feeling I have, looking back, is a sense of self questioning. I’ve so obviously been on this quest to “find myself,” figure out who I am and what it is I should be doing with my life. It’s been The Summer of Emily, not really in a traditional self-interested way, and yet, it’s been absolutely self-interested as I consider the life paths that, at this point, only benefit me. Summer isn’t going to end with a big, shattering revelation or a sense of completion, even.
Will life always seem so unsettled and vast?