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 But of course, that's just a silly and outdated way of thinking, right?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.