a little summer sadness

ODD. To feel sad in the summertime, that is. I don't really know why I feel so melancholy lately -- and so often, too. Sometimes I start thinking of the explanation they would have given in Shakespeare's day, something about the four humours, and what happens when a person has too much of one. I think it was black bile that made for a melancholy disposition. But of course, that's just a silly and outdated way of thinking, right? Sure. So what's my excuse? I guess summertime used to mean something else. It used to mean spending time with good friends, and catching up with friends you hadn't seen in a while -- having lots of time to do with as you please. But what happens when so few of your friends are even in the same time zone as you are? And when your new friends are busy with their own lives? And when (not that I'm complaining about this) your husband has a job, and it's just you and the cat in the apartment all day. With your books. All those books, but nobody to talk to. Nobody real to have a conversation with. Everybody living their lives three hours behind you, or in another part of the world. It's strange how technology brings people together in so many ways (communication is faster, sites like facebook make social networking easier, even shopping is altered) but keeps them apart in so many others. Sure, all my friends are saying things on facebook, and I can see what's going on in their lives and what they've written on my wall. It's just not the same as grabbing a bite to eat at our favorite deli, or sipping hot chocolate in the local coffee shop, or hanging up the phone knowing that in fifteen minutes one of us will be sitting in the other's living room. I mean, I have friends -- CLOSE friends -- who bought a house recently and I can't afford to get out to San Francisco to see them (and their amazing new home). I haven't seen my sister and my brother-in-law since New Year's day, and I don't forsee being able to get back home until the end of this year. Luckily, my parents are coming out in a few weeks, so it won't be an entire year since I've seen them. And thankfully, I was able to see my best friend at the end of April when we met up in DC (thanks to her parents' kindness and generosity). But as my friends continue to live their lives and keep me posted on all of the things we used to do together, some of which I haven't been able to do for years (like winter Tahoe trips and end-of-summer Don Pedro trips) I just keep brushing it off like it doesn't make me sad to watch another year go by without being able to do those things. Of course, it's the more everyday things that I miss most. Driving out to SF to visit for the weekend. Having a regular enough schedule to make regular phone calls a possibility. Hell, lately I haven't even been able to check my email on a regular basis. It's silly to complain about this stuff, really, because I know I have a lot of things going on that I can be thankful for. But it doesn't help me feel any less isolated. Sometimes I'm just lonely.

Futbol, Fireworks, and Fireflies

AHH, THE 4TH OF JULY. Yup, Mike and I spent the evening watching the Columbus Crew take on DC United. It wasn't their best game, but in the end they tied (1-1) and considering the bad refs and the oddly unenthusiastic crowd (at least, until the Crew scored their goal), I guess that's good enough for me. After the game, they had a nice little fireworks show in the light rain, and then Mike and I headed home. Of course, the drive wasn't entirely uneventful either (we had to phone in a drunk driver who was alternating between driving into oncoming traffic and going up onto the curb -- at one point, narrowly missing a telephone pole). When we got home, we walked into the courtyard in our apartment complex and saw some fireflies drifting lazily in the dark. It's the first time I've seen them since I was on vacation with my family in Washington, DC, over twenty years ago. It was a lovely way to come home, especially after the semi-disappointing game and the tense ride back. Now, back in our nice quiet apartment, the booming of not-so-distant fireworks fills the air like quiet thunder, and flashes of colored night air play above the treetops. We're not close enough that we can see the actual fireworks, but the glowing pulses of light are a nice pseudo-Northern Lights (this coming from a person who has yet to see the Northern Lights, of course, because I'm sure that when I do I will regret making such an undoubtedly silly statement). With the sounds of celebration pounding outside our windows, I can say that this has been a lovely way to spend Independence Day. :)

Hiking in Ohio

A SEMI-BITTER RANT. Yesterday, Mike and I went to the Hocking Hills to do some hiking near Old Man's Cave. There were some beautiful spots, but there were also some "interesting" people there. Well, some were great -- we ran into one of my classmates while we were there, and that was nice. Ohio is often so much smaller than I think it is (as is our world, sometimes). But there were also other people who were a lot less pleasant. As we walked through what should have been the peaceful, quiet woods, shouts echoed all around us. These were not panicked shouts, or joyous shouts of children happily discovering nature. Nope. Not a chance. These were shouts of obnoxious people who apparently don't enjoy (or maybe are afraid of) the silence of nature. Rather than listen to the quiet splash of the slowly moving stream, or the trill of tropical-sounding birds in the trees around us, some people apparently felt compelled to fill the peaceful silence with the sound of their own voices for no reason other than to prevent the quiet from being, well, enjoyable. Eventually, we outpaced the loud shouters and left them far enough behind that their voices receded into the background. Then, we encountered other people with their own unique habits. Twice, we came across people hiking along in the lovely woods and (wait for it) SMOKING. In a forest. Where there are no trash cans. And the air is (was) fresh. Now, I don't ordinarily mind if people smoke (especially if they are considerate and try to direct their smoke away from me, as some of my friends are wont to do); however, it strikes me as exceedingly odd that someone would venture out into the wilderness with its clean air and natural beauty and then proceed to light up and continue their hike. And one of these people was a girl who I really can't believe was old enough to drive, let alone smoke a cigarette (legally, anyway). Ahh, Ohio. You dazzle me in strange and foreign ways.... There were also like half a million children (and not well-behaved ones, either) swarming all over the landscape. Children with names like Noah and Jonas, children with no regard whatsoever for the peace of other hikers, children who seemed to enjoy nature about as much as most children enjoy getting vaccinations, children who screamed and shouted and polluted the clear air with their piercing voices. But people didn't just bring their kids out in hordes; they also felt the need to bring all their little yappy dogs -- dogs who did NOT enjoy being out of their usual environs, and who voiced their displeasure through angry snarls and growls and shrill barking that rivaled the noise made by the children. Also, on a more humorous note, I must admit that a significant number of people we came across quipped about the possible impending need to be air-lifted to the nearest hospital. Apparently they found the trail a bit more challenging than they had expected, but this recurring joke was unexpected for me. Unusual sense of humor, I suppose.