2004-07-30
Emily has moved out of our place, following Amie's departure a few weeks prior. The following is a sobering inventory of the remaining furniture in the upper level of my townhouse: A fish tank, an entertainment center (with TV), two lamps, a microwave stand (with no microwave). That's... about it.My apartment went from a beyond-classy living arrangement, with its oil paintings and earth tones, to, well, a crack den in a matter of days. I may as well throw a mattress on the floor and spread some hyperdermic needles and vodka bottles around for effect. And the kicker? Char and Leigh don't move in for another FOUR weeks.
Needless to say, it's very, very quiet here. And my inner dialogue is getting very, very loud.
Sitting in my little hellhole, actually hearing the keys echo off of the walls as I type, I can't help but think that the lovely Chris was right: this summer has mastered the once impossible physic phenomenon of simultaneously sucking and blowing. I talked to my old dad this afternoon and pointed out that his sage wisdom about summers had come true. When I was little, Dad told me that your summers just keep getting better and better and better. You think to yourself, "Man, how can next summer POSSIBLY be better than this summer? If next summer is better than this, I'll eat my shoe!" And you still wonder how it turned out that you shit leather every August. But suddenly, one summer, nothing exciting happens.
It didn't happen immediately, though. Last summer - defined by my pilgrimage to California - was filled with boredom during the time that I spent in STL, though Amber proved a welcome, beautifully affectionate distraction from the humdrum of the summer day. Yet, Summer '03 didn't have the day-to-day thrill that previous summers had offered, particularly the one spent staffing at Boy Scout camp.
Now, provided that my dad's analysis of summers is correct, it has become apparent that I'm out of summers. In ten years, if someone were to ask what defined the summer of 2004 for me, I'd shuffle my feet and answer, "The Jeopardy! winning streak of Ken Jennings, of course." (Well, I won't forget one certain girl who made life a lot more exciting for a while, but that goes without saying.) I wouldn't be able to offer an answer like 'spending the summer teaching outdoor skills to over 500 boys' or 'reprising my favorite stage role for the second time in six months' or 'driving across the country with the woman I love after an internship with a production company in Los Angeles.'
Sure, this summer was the summer that I made the most important film I've ever developed... realizing a seven year old dream... but that came and went far too quickly. While indescribably thrilling, it consumed far less of my time than the slew of days and nights at home, waiting impotently for something exciting to happen. This summer will be remembered as one of benign stagnation.
But really, thank God for that film, though. I honestly don't know what I would've done with myself had it not been around to engage my entire being.
I had to get that out, no matter how grossly sporadic and disjointed it may seem.
-Andy