Summertime

I think that summertime is the epitome of the saying "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." Don't you agree? I've had some of my best memories during summer, such as body surfing at dusk in Cape Cod, beach days at Stinson, parties outside on warm nights, and some of the worst -- boring nights where a Law & Order SUV marathon becomes my only entertainment, the lack of phone calls from friends traveling all over the world while you work in your boring 9-5 job. But now that I am entering in my third year as a college student, summer has taken on a whole new meaning. Summer is now pretty awkward. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the lack of nightly homework, the daily grind of manuevering around a packed campus, or sweating in the LA sun as you sprint to your 9 am French class that you are late to every day, but I feel that it is a transition period that one is unable to become accustomed to. A summer in college is a hodgepodge of the old, current, and future that allows for ample reminiscing, dreaming, and musing.

Going home reminds me of all I miss, don't remember, realize that I in fact do remember, and don't miss at all of my past life before college. The drive to your old high school feels like trying on old pair of jeans that snugs your body in all the right places and is worn in just so, but also has a huge tear in the crotch that you discover once you put them on and is also the cause for putting them aside in the first place. On the way to Redwood, I realize just how many times I have made that drive and how comforting it feels to head over there. Circling the parking lot, I remember being asked out for prom, sprinting out to my car to be the first one out to lunch, and drudging over to the track to run the dreaded mile in my horrid PE uniform. I also remember dragging my tired ass out to my car after a boring, non-stimulating day of school, hiding my head to avoid eye contact with my male obsession of the week (the height of my awkward stage), and the times when I sat in my car staring at the ominous Mt. Tam wondering what else was out there beyond the confines of good ol' Marin County.

Heading over to the town mall also brings the good with the bad. It's most recent structural facelift reminds me exactly why I was glad to leave home -- the superficiality of a state-of-the-art shopping mall and the glamazons that roam it aren't at the top of my list of sights to see. It also the place I had one of my first jobs, one of the first places I drove my car to once I (finally) passed my driver's test, I purchased my first bikini, bought my senior prom dress, and had countless conversations with some of the best people in my life. A trip back to the mall during the summer brings interactions with the good, bad, past, and present. For, a trip to the mall now means that I will most likely encounter five supremely awkward people whom I only deemed awkward once I graduated, moved my ass out of Marin, and gained the realization that we share nothing in common, revealed way too much about each other at high school parties, and have no desire to now mend our stale friendship. But, on the other hand, one gets to see the people we have know for 12 years and for whom only a trip to college could make me realize the dynamics of their sparkling personalities. Of course, it is also a given that a trip to the mall entails running into some of the many people from Marin I have met in college. It is oddly comforting to see them in the setting of one's hometown -- reminding you that share the same roots and that college is only one phase of one's life and that your relationships with the people you meet at school do not have be confined to the boundaries of UCLA and Westwood.
I hate to sound dramatic, but now you know why a simple act such as a trip to the mall beings on such a mix of emotions and memories. Goddamn, it can be tiring to go home!

Being back at school now, I have not escaped this feeling that "summer is weird." It is the first time that I am at UCLA in a new context and the first time that I am away from home in a new context. It is truly a departure -- I did not have to leave home, I chose to in order to do something other than school. In fact, I came to LA to live here this summer. I could have taken summer classes or worked at home, but I consciously chose to come down to LA and it sure makes me feel old/independent/somewhat scared. Times are changing and studying abroad will only accelerate these changes. Now that will be interesting...