So, that long travail called Summer is starting. School has misshapen our calenders over the years, making summer feel like the beginning of the end. A new year approaches, and for many of my friends, it will not resemble any previous stage of their lives. It’s high time we grew up, got jobs, got married, made little versions of ourselves, section off some morsel of land and on it, try to recreate the last half of our lives. Oh no, no, that’s far too cynical right? We’re still young after all.
As for me, I’m not even done with school yet. I’ve been pacing myself because I’ve known, despite the handicap of my youth, that there is no real seminal moment where your life truly begins. Putting so much stock in working is dangerous and fool hardy. Not much will change, not for the better anyway. The rest of our lives may well be a slow, creeping barrage-attack on our freedom. I don’t mean that in the sense that conservatives do, you know, the “they’re trying to take our freedom” argument. No one is trying to take your freedom, not directly anyway. No, your freedom is won or lost on the hallowed battle field of the workplace – it will be the place you spend the better half of your life when school is done, and chances are, it will be none too kind.
Whatever, I digress. This was supposed to sound hopeful I think, but craziness has interfered.
I’m only trying to say that this is one of our last real summers. It will be one of the last times where your entire life is interrupted by good weather, the opportunity to be amongst friends, and the naive, desperate, but intoxicating, belief that somewhere, on a beach or a busy patio, there is true happiness waiting for you. And it only costs a menial fee.
So this summer: get outside, do some manual labour, drink, be merry, fall in love, or, even more befitting to the season, lust, and embrace the only vast celestial machine worthy of a love that can only be described as having a religious fervor: the Sun. And fuck sunscreen, that shit is unnatural.