The summer before I started college, I was jittery all the time, a little nervous -- not about the idea of entering into college exactly, but at the idea of all the possibilities that were in front of me: that I was going somewhere completely different, that I could turn into a whole different person, that I might fall in love at any moment.
I feel that way a little now, too -- not jittery or nervous, really, but on the verge of something. It's a warm and humid night, after a day that felt like full-on summer, and humid summer nights make me think of kissing on porch swings or in hammocks, of the possibility of falling in love (though I never have), and summers have always been that in-between time for me (and everyone, I guess) -- the time before I left for college, for Germany, for New York; the time before I had to figure out my life. I'm taking the LSAT this fall, though I'm not sure that law school is what I want to do; I have no idea what it is that I want to do. I'm not sure that I'll ever be sure. I think a lot of life is about just picking something that seems like it could be what you want and going for it, seeing if it fits. In the summer it just feels like the possibilities are spread wide open for me, like I could fit into all these different versions of my life, in endless ways.
My roommate just held up a stuffed animal and twisted it around and said, "Flipping llama!", apropos of nothing. You know what, I think this is a sign -- the universe is telling me that the best choice for this evening is Get Drunker.