I don't know why, but summer has always been the shittiest time of year for me. And yes I will swear.
When I was in school it was never the have-fun-with-your-friends extravaganza that American TV shows and films would have you believe because I went to an international school and in the summer, everyone would go back to their respective homes. Not in Turkey. My home was Turkey, so I'd of course be left all alone. I think it was in my last year of high school that I actually had people to hang out with in the summer because even my best friends would go visit family in various parts of the world.
Then in college, again I was in a different country. So while it seems that Americans tend to go to school near their homes (seriously, this confused the hell out of me. Not one of my friends was as close to their family as I was/am and yet the furthest they lived was 3 hours. By car. Okay, there were the token out-of-staters but still) I crossed an ocean every summer to go see my family. And subsequently sat at home for four months.
I used to go to summer camp in the Adirondacks when I was younger. I went five summers and yes I had a lot of fun. But looking back now, and thinking about myself then, it was sour probably a third of the time. Let's see, it was the first time I ever, sincerely, got called ugly. Superficial? Yes. Does it bother me? Yes. Does it bother me now? No, the kid was a little shit. Am I bitter? Well, I'm still thinking about it ten years later, what do you think?
My sort-of breakdown happened in the summer. As did my next one. Health problems, deaths, worries, all come swimming to the surface in the summer as if they know the sea is all right for entry, so they have to muck it up somehow.
I can remember one, just one, absolutely perfect summer in my 24, 25 in September, years. It was when I was 19 and was stuck in Boston for summer classes but ended up having so much fun for the 6 weeks I was there. Then, I was in Houston with my mom and sister and little cousin and we had so much fun there, albeit burning to a crisp every time we stepped foot outdoors.
I promised myself, I swore to the heavens, somewhat literally, that this summer would be great. No sadness, no badness, just radness if you'll allow me to be lame. Now, I thank the universe and God that this summer isn't a horrific mess. I am grateful that I have my family and my boyfriend will be coming soon, and we have nice days ahead.
It's still summer. It's still clouded with uncertainty and blahness and don't even get me started on the heat. I can't stand heat. People might complain about warm weather and humidity but I hate it. I don't use the word hate, in fact I recently had a conversation about the word hate and how strong it is and how it shouldn't be tossed around carelessly because words are important. It is with complete certainty and absolute calm that I proclaim, I HATE SUMMER. I hate the hot weather, I hate the humidity, I hate the lack of energy and clothing choices it gives me, I hate not having anything to do, I hate being alone all the time, I hate that my options for not being alone involve me tagging along awkwardly with others, I hate leaving my family as will inevitably happen at the end of it, I hate it.
Summer sucks. That seasonal depression stuff is the exact opposite for me. Most people get it in the fall and winter when there's less sun, well you can take your sun and shove it where it don't shine because I like it that way. I don't appreciate people calling me a psycho for recoiling from it and from warm weather because personally, I think you're just kidding yourselves.
The only thing I like about summer is that I can swim in the sea. The sea is frigid cold.
I'd rather the salt burn my eyes than sit under the sun and burn myself any day. Tans are for people who want to look like beef jerky. I don't. I hate the atmosphere of summer by the sea. I hate the people, I hate the loud music, I hate the noise, I hate the cloying smell of perfume that fills the air. I'm talking in particular about Bodrum. Bodrum is in southern Turkey and my family has a summer home there. There are enough bedrooms to fit all 14 of us (on my mom's side) and guests and the cook and it's right by the sea; the garden leads down to it. It is glorious and I've been bitching at everyone to make plans to go there this summer too. But in the last few years hotels and clubs have popped up all around it. And thus we have the aforementioned list of hate. Let me give you an example of the sort of people that we have the joy of being surrounded by, every time we go. One particular plane ride down there, I was sitting next to this woman. She had ample cleavage she showed off with an unflattering top, a stupid large hat, dark sunglasses that she did not take off once, and every few minutes she would spritz herself with her cheap perfume. God, I hate cheap perfumes. They smell like plastic and sugar. She killed my sense of smell and I can only hope she didn't do permanent damage to my cat's. All she was missing was a cellphone glued to her head. Which she turned on as soon as we landed and started whining into it almost immediately. Behind me and in front were a group of men. They wore their trendy colorful shirts with the collars unbuttoned and had even more choking amounts of cologne on than the woman, and every so often would demand more drinks from the stewardess. They got so loud and so drunk on that 40 minute flight that it went past amusing to just kiro. Our version of a guido.
I don't hate these people. It's not their fault they're morons. I just hate their actions and that they believe this is what constitutes success and "coolness."
They're always present but in the summer, it seems like they get a license to multiply and assume the full-annoyance position.
I can't wait for my birthday in September. My birthday sucks beyond measure every year but it seems to act as the big finish. One final hurrah and from then on good can flourish again.