Some of you may not live in an area with a distinct four seasons, and for that, I pity you. Usually, seasons hang around just long enough for me to get tired of them until the next one comes along.
The seasons used to mark different times of the year: fall was college football season, the start of all the best sports, and the time to head back to college. Winter was for hockey, college basketball, going home for the holidays, and sledding down fraternity row on mattresses. With spring came much needed green after the doldrums of winter, girls clad in riding boots or Uggs tucked into their jeans and North Faces trading their basic gear in for sundresses, and day drinking outside. Sure, high-50s wasn’t the best time to bust out shorts, but after the Arctic levels of winter, it was necessary. St. Patrick’s Day rang in spring with a bang. And onto summer, a dreaded time of having to head back home for three months, missing the house, brothers and sisters and of course, having to lug bags around the hills of my local upscale Golf and Country Club to make money for the upcoming semester’s festivities.
Now, I barely notice the changing of the seasons, except for what type of jacket I need to put on. Business casual is my suit of armor. My closet is separated between “work” and “sitting around drinking beer” clothing.
Every day seems the same. It’s hard to remember what I had for lunch yesterday. Events that happened months ago seem like last week. I feel like I was digging my car out of the snow and swerving around potholes two months ago. Seems like last month I was planting my herb garden, which I have been harvesting for the last few months.
These days, it’s hard to get the band back together. Of my friend group, I am always the one that has to plan things. This comes with a lot of responsibility, heartache, and hassle. I was the Community Service Chair for two years for my fraternity, so getting people to get off their asses and do stuff is in my blood. Each year, it becomes more and more difficult and sometimes it requires divine intervention to get ahold of them. I was a best man two years ago to a fraternity brother. He now has a kid, a house, and a new job. He’s come to visit for football games twice, both times leaving before sunrise the next day which is fine. Sometimes that’s just how it is. With college football season in the crosshairs, a new season of tailgating, drinking in celebration, and hopefully few losses.
People everywhere are changing. The rush to get married is a daily struggle for some. It’s kind of strange seeing old flames and hooks ups getting married, knowing you once shared a “tender moment.” I remember running into an on-again/off-again fling last year during a football game with a total Melvin of a boyfriend. Part of me was thinking “dodged a bullet” while the other part was “man, she could do so much better.” The most awkward feeling was the Facebook notification and subsequent text from my high school girlfriend that was married and now divorced. Such is life.
Sometimes, post-college life feels like purgatory. I feel like life pulls in so many directions. There is no manual to teach someone how to deal with the hustle and bustle of hurry up and wait working, to managing going out, seeing family, money management, student loans, losing family members, the list goes on. It is a trial and error process. Like work experience, it is more fruitful learning on the job than in the classroom or in a book. Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.
The changing of the seasons seems to be instinctual. One day, I was outside checking my oil and it hit me. Maybe it was the chill in the air, the smoky smell of someone burning a few logs in a fire pit, or not having to roll up my Oxford due to the heat. A similar process repeats itself every few months and it seems to be automatic, just like everything else, same as it ever was. .
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