Summer, In Conclusion

Imaginary readers, I have not updated you as to my current situation since this blog’s nascence, and for that I apologize. I can only imagine that you have been both insatiably curious and deeply concerned as to what I’ve been doing. 

Translation: I know you don’t care about this, feel free to not read it.  I’ll post something interesting soon. 

I made the trip back to Jackson last Sunday, meaning that my summer is essentially  over.  I”m going to look back at (this post) and respond to it in an attempt to see what has changed in the (exactly - I counted) 60 days that I spent in Nashville this summer.

I mentioned that I had previously made attempts at blogging but never passed the three post threshold.  This attempt seems to have stuck, with at least a greater degree of permanence than any other.  I applaud myself for sticking with it (read: for having so little to do that I stuck with it) and you, imaginary readers, for actually suffering through it. 

Seriously, I have really appreciated everyone who has told me that you have enjoyed my nonsense. 

On an equally serious note, I have really appreciated everyone who has told me that you think I need to be committed.  You make a valid point. 

However, I am still roaming the streets at the time this post goes to (imaginary) press. 

I’m glad I went with the “Blank Slate” title/theme, because even though it’s a touch on the completely lame side, I like the idea that you can start over.  In some ways, I want to start over almost every day.  I’d change a lot - you’re lying to yourself if you think you wouldn’t.  I wouldn’t take all those stressful pre-med classes that turned out to be worthless and tanked my GPA.  I wouldn’t have wasted all that time on that boy that I couldn’t respect.  I’d get up and run in the mornings so I could see the sun come up.  Continue to insert regrets, each more cliché than the next. 

That was cliché too.  See what I did there?

Sorry.  

On one hand, I think that you can start over every day.  To an extent, I’ve accomplished that this summer.  It takes a lot of self-pep talking, a lot of perseverance, and a little bit of crying while you drive around beautiful Tennessee backroads.  Saying you’re going to  start over with a blank slate is like quitting smoking - it usually doesn’t take until the fourth or fifth or sixth try. But you hang in there.

On the other hand, I’ve realized that the idea of the blank slate, the tabula rasa, if you will, is an impossibility. 

Consider this quote from Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men.

“It’s not about knowing where you are.  It’s about thinking you got there without taking anything with you.  Your notions about starting over.  Or anybody’s.  You don’t start over.  That’s what it’s about.  Every step you take is forever.  You can’t make it go away.  None of it.” - Llewelyn Moss

I wrote this down when I read it last summer, for no other reason than it spoke to me.  It seems entirely more relevant now.  What I take away from it is that I can’t change where I’ve come from, because it has made me who I am.

I like that.  Even though I’d do things differently a second time around, I wouldn’t be who I am today if I had done things differently the first time around.  Yes, I wouldn’t have taken all the pre-med classes that have turned out to be unnecessary, but I also wouldn’t have been able to explain to someone how and why goiters form when it came up at dinner the other night.

Don’t invite me to dinner. I’m disgusting.

So you can’t start over.  I can’t change that I spent three years taking classes to get into medical school before I decided to not to go.  I can’t change the fact that I have been a terrible judge of character with regard to whom I spend time with for almost my whole life.  I can’t change the fact that Lori and I got Qdoba at 2 am last saturday morning.

Believe me, I would change that if I could. 

I think what Llewelyn Moss misses in NCFOM is that while you can’t start over, you can head in a new direction.  You are who you are because of where you’ve been, but you can still go anywhere you want.

Of course, I wouldn’t expect Moss to be very introspective.  He does manage to get more or less everyone he knows killed, so introspection is most likely not one of his strong points.

Thirty-two pages later, Anton Chigurh tells Moss’s wife that “Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing,” and I think he’s hit the nail on the head, personally.  You can’t ignore where you came from and what made you who you are, but you can always pick up and go where ever you want to.  

Ignore the fact that I identify more with the homicidal maniac than with the good guy.  If you’ve read (this post) you should’ve seen that coming.  Although I must say, he does seem to know what he’s talking about. 

The homicidal maniac is, after all, the one that survives. 

I’ll quit with the literary analysis before someone shows this to a psychiatrist and gets me my very own made-to-fit straight jacket.

So there’s that. 

I also wrote a to do list in my first post.  It was really just for that day, but some parts of the list are more far reaching goals, so I’ll let you know how it turned out anyway. 

1- Finding a job - Done.  Sighs of relief were breathed.  I did end up getting the job at Sweet Cece’s, and I love it.  I don’t know that I am any more a functional member of society, but I can pay the rent.  I’ve met so many great people.  I’ve also started babysitting on the side, which I unexpectedly love.  Something about people paying me to sit down is fantastic. 

2- Starting a blog.  I did that, clearly.  Honestly, I really like it.  There’s something really nice about putting thoughts down on paper (you get what I mean) that weren’t there before.  I’ve started writing other stuff too, for no other reason than wanting to make something.   

3- Reading Cien Años de Soledad- I got two pages in and was so overwhelmed by the number of words I’d written in the margin in order to remind myself to find out what the hell they mean that I promptly quit.  I leave the book out on my desk so I can pretend to be reading it. 

4- Learning all the words to Sorry, Mrs. Jackson by Outkast in order to increase my awesomeness levels- I sort of did this.  I downloaded the lyrics and more or less know the words, but I still cannot sing along. I have no rhythm.  It can’t be helped. 

5- Working on the book I’m writing- If you read (this post), you know more or less how this is going.  For those who have expressed doubt as to whether I’m actually writing it, fear not.  It’s not a joke.  It is being written. 

6- Journaling again- This has been hard.  I’ve been slightly reticent to be as honest with myself as journaling requires that I be, so I’ve more or less put this on the back burner.  It’s always at the top of my to do list, but I never do it. 

7-Restart my picture a day project - This is been a miserable failure.  I’m thinking about trying to take a picture every day of senior year, because I like the idea.  Also,  I completely stole this idea from Caroline Tredway, which is where I got the original idea from as well.  She’s recently started a blog detailing her own senior year, and I really like it! It includes her daily photos and great tips for people who know nothing about photography, like myself. 

Caroline is one of those quiet people who sees everything. 

(You should check out her blog). 

8- Do something artsy- I painted my nails and called it a day. 

So there’s my summer  to do list, all wrapped up.

The beginning of fall semester seems like it’s far away, but time always goes faster than I think it will, so I’m going to make a tentative to do list for the fall. 

1- Get my bank account back to where it was at the beginning of the summer! - Because dear God that thing could use some cash. 
2- Make all A’s this fall! - It could happen.  Right? Right.  Plus, it would be nice to do that at least one semester of college. 
3- Say those 3 little words more - I have a weird thing about not telling people that I love them when I don’t mean it and sometimes even when I do.  It’s a good habit because I don’t throw those words around and people know I mean it when I say it, but it’s good to let the people you care about know that you care about them...right? Right.
4- Read all the books on my summer reading list - because I finished 2/14.  I’m literallly just crossing our “summer” and writing “fall” over it. Whoops.
5 - Do things I haven’t done before! - I want to explore Tennessee (who is down to go apple picking with me this fall? comment on this post to sign up, because I don’t care if I have to go by myself, I’m going apple picking this fall), go on more road trips (read: revisit the Lost Caves of Kentucky), meet more people (Josh Turner), go to more concerts (3rdEyeBlindRaRaRiotTheNationalMGMTetcohmygod), and just get into all sorts of new adventures.  I’ve got to come up with something to keep you people entertained, since I have a feeling hearing my descriptions of the interiors of Vanderbilt’s nine libraries is not going to keep anyone reading for long (feel free to make a joke about me going to a library, if you’re one of my close friends. I’m being optimistic that I might go.)
6 - Fiddle player. enough said. several of you already know about my life goals with regard to this.

So there you go.  At some point I’ll report back on how those things went, and until then I’ll keep up you to date with whatever adventures (read: misadventures) that befall me (read: that I bring crashing down around my own head). 

It'll be fine.