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Wednesday, June 11, 2008


Getting older, it's a strange thing, summertime. Summertime used to mean so much, when I was young. Summertime was a warm feeling, a special place. Summertime meant carefree, stressfree, sleep-in-until-you-can't-sleep-anymore, do whatever you want to, weeks of beautiful nothingness. Summertime was family vacations, sleep-overs, running-through-the-sprinklers, good friends, watermelon, and long days at the beach. Summertime was a feeling in the air, but now it's nearly gone.

Getting older, summertime really only means that the weather gets hotter (and I will be especially reminded of this fact because my 1930s built studio doesn't have air conditioning). Since I live a few blocks from the beach, summertime means I'll be passing more tourists and bathing suits and sun umbrellas while I'm walking Mozie on the coast in the late afternoon. But I can't help but feel disconnected a bit from this season. Granted, I have my weekends off, but that's not nearly the same. It's weird how things change.

Why does life have to lose some of its simple joys? Why can't we all take a 3 month (at least!) holiday to rejuvenate, enjoy life and soak up every drop of it? I guess once you hit the "real, working world" all the days are kind of the same. And I don't like that. I don't like that one bit! What I would like, what I would love, would be to be able to write and create and sing and discover and laugh and play all day long. And if I could make a living while I'm doing these things, that would be wonderfully perfect. I think that should be my goal, because it would be even better than summertime....but if worse comes to worst, I could always resort to marrying a billionare!