the gold and glimmer of summer are threatening to fade and as we roll into the last weekends of the last weeks, i can’t help but feel that familiar sense of unaccomplishment that sits in my stomach, content and unbudging, a rock weighing me down, tying itself to everything i see and feel and do.
this summer, like every other summer, i was supposed to lose at least 10 pounds; i was supposed to be packing for another city, for a home away from home, i was supposed to write a new song, i was supposed to read at least 3 new books, i was supposed to get back on a wakeboard, i was supposed to earn my PADI certification, i was supposed to have at least $1000 in the bank so that i could go back-to-school shopping without feeling horrible for running down my savings.
this summer, like every other summer, i was supposed to do things, for me – but somehow, it’s never the case, even more so when taking a 20 minute bus ride by myself becomes a reason for a large debacle.
i suppose the question then comes – anyone out there willing to trade an extra 3 hours in bed, a pedicure, a guilt-free shopping trip, a nice long bubble bath and a stress-free day for my awesome flying cape and lightning boots? they might make you feel lonely but hell, who needs lonely when you can freaking fly?
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