Fleeting Days of Summer

Or is it Fleeing? I've got less than a week left of my internship. It wasn't really at all what i expected (surprise, surprise! i often do try to live life without any expectations at all, but i've found that it falls flat. here's to being wrong!). As far as the logistics of running an archive, and helping people with research, i'm really no further than i was before. However, i've learned a bit about running a business, and the types of relationships that exist between bosses and employees. An academic library doesn't need to make money. A historic park does. This means that the organization and hierarchy of the staff is much more important. It means that the work done is not only "for posterity" but must have some (relatively) immediate purpose and value. It means that we can't just apply for another grant or scholarship, but must make do with what we have and must concentrate out efforts on that which will have the greatest public interests. GSRing has also been (much as i am loathe to admit it) a good experience for me. This may sound strange, but it is the first instance in which i have been able to relate to people as an adult - an equal. In the park offices i am an intern; at Sunday School and in choir i am the youngest by two decades; when living with my parents i am the Pastor's Daughter; at school i am a student. Of course there are always "peers" but that's not quite the same thing. I expect i shall tire of it soon - there are definite advantages to being young and ignorant. The new people being trained put this feeling into sharp relief - both elderly, and rather slow (dunno if it's fear of computers or what) - and i became a voice of experience (by some strange coincidence, i also saw buttercups buzzing after bees). I also learnt that i find 18th-20th century history rather prosaic. People would exclaim at how old an 18th century artifact was, and all i could think was "Wow, that's only a couple hundred years old!" Or they would be looking at a photograph from the late 19th century, and while i was exclaiming over what a recent process photography was, they would be like "Dude! it's in black and white!" It's just... American colonialism has nothing on European Medievalsim, i'm sorry.

FYI

I'm going through another slight transition period where my access to internet and inclination to post will be rather limited - moving from the place of my internship to the place where my school is to the place where i will be living during the school year to the place where my family lives and back.... Well, it's all rather confusing, but i won't be in any place for more than five days until after the first week in September. So posting is going to be even lighter than usual until then. If anyone is really that bored, i do have archives on the left side. Merry Christmas!!

"Thou Burning Sun With Golden Beam"

I really wish i could figure out how to get the photos off my cellphone, for even the poorest photo could give you a better idea than my words will. But it was such a magnificent event i simply must do my best to share. Let's see... Well, you know how they tell you the earth is round? I know it is not - they are wrong - for i saw the sun drop off the edge of the earth. Nor was i the only one. There is a small public beach 6-7 miles down the road. A bit of a bay - the land stretches almost to the horizon and then curves in a little, so it is relatively protected from the wind and waves. It is facing West. I like to go there to read after work, and in a pathetic attempt to get tanned. There were two or three other families there that day. I had been hoping to have the beach to myself, so i ignored them, and they returned the favour. The sun began to go down. The blue sky turned orange and purple - it brought to mind bizarre and abstract paintings. The sun was pink and yellow, and the closer it got to the edge of the water, the faster it went down. The light reflected off the water so that it formed a straight path on the waves - if i had so desired, i could have walked on it. I could have reached the edge of the earth and touched the sun. But i was rooted to the ground - we all were. We had all begun to pack (the sun sets late - it was after nine-thirty), but we could not leave. Even the youngest children paused their splashing and screaming. Our breath stopped, or at least it seemed completely irrelevant compared the pulse and rhythm of the waves and the sun. The sky faded, and only the perfectly circular sun was reflected on the water. The path was fading, though the sun was still bright. I wanted to follow so much that i ached. The sun continued to sink. The horizon was a straight line - i believe the earth stopped there. If we were still before now we became statues. The glow of the sand and the green of the grass and trees, the bright and raucous colours of our towels and lawn chairs, all of this seemed unbelievably dull and faded in comparison. It sank, and the path became shorter and shorter. Just the very top was visible, yet still we could not move. What we were hoping for or what we feared, i do not know. But the tension of both was in the air. The sun was gone. It had fallen. It was gone. A collective sigh, and we all looked at each other, curiously, as if we had just been given our vision and yet were surprised to find everything looking so familiar. Ridiculous grins plastered on, we all silently finished packing and staggered back to the parking lot. Not having any small children to pack, i was the first one to leave. We waved and nodded to each other as i headed back to the East.

What Is It With Small Towns? I Have Never Been This Creeped Out In a City.

So, the first time i noticed it was in the stores here. As i mentioned before, they absolutely pounce on you. "Did you see this? Did you know that we can do this? Do you know what a good bargain this is? What's your name? Where you from? What's your SSN?" Okay, they didn't really ask that last question. And then, of course, there was the yarn lady... Another time, i was sitting on a sort of wall right next to the curb, talking to my dad on the phone. Not bothering anybody. A policeman drives up, pulls over, and asks me who i am. I give him my first name, and he drives off w/o another word. A couple weeks later, and i am again talking to my dad on my phone (which is very cute and purple, btw). I am walking up and down a side street, behind a motel and a couple of residences. It's right off one of the main drags. I'm wearing this huge black sweater - it reaches down past my knees and wraps all the way around me - a scarf, and a beat up grey purse. The whole outfit, while comfortable, is quite ugly. This white haired man in a gold pickup drives up and down the street at least half a dozen times, smirking and waving at me each time he passes. It's daylight and there are other people around, but my dad (to whom i'd been relating the whole) insisted that i go to a more popular area. I moved to the main street, and the guy drove around the block a coupla times before leaving. Okay, but the next event is even more amusing. Somebody called the cops on me! I just don't get people here - they must be bored outa their minds. Blame it on the library. I was on the phone again (and i know i'm not the only person here with a cell phone - it's not like it's a bluetooth or anything) talking to someone i hadn't heard from in a while. I sat on the steps of a church, since i could see the water from there, but it was across the road from the park and there wasn't even any sidewalk on this side of the road so i wouldn't be in anybody's way and they wouldn't be in mine. And i was talking on my phone, laughing and smirking, banging away at bugs with my shoe (all the things one normally does while on the phone). I saw some shoes coming down the walk as if from church, and thought "well, that's odd, i didn't think anyone was in there and didn't hear the door." It was a (cute, blonde) policeman - "Do you need help, ma'am?" (Ma'am!!) "Umm, no... Do you want me to leave?" (i assumed it must be loitering - couldn't think of anything else) "Oh, no - you're fine. Some one called and said you were talking to yourself, but i see that you are on your phone." And then he left. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? I tell ya, ya gotta love these small town communities.

Let Me Introduce You to Helen...

She was like "So, when should i come pick you up?" and i was like "I have a car!!" and she was like "Really? Wow!!" and i was like "I have a car, and her name is Helen!" and she was like "Helen?" and i was like "it was on the key chain." And then i was like "i have a car!" Guess what? I have a car!! And it's really cute, too. Well, and it's 1/2 my brother's, but still. Once the first rush of "Ihaveacar!!!EEEEEEE!!!"-ness passes, it becomes a rather melancholy thought. I'm glad of the independence it gives me, and it will make life much more convenient transportation-wise. But... I have many unreasonable fears (i.e. dark and enclosed spaces, People, hairy spiders, numbers) and i know they are silly. My fear of driving, however, has always seemed to me to be eminently reasonable. A slight mistake in a speech, or mathematics problem, can be corrected. A slight mistake in an automobile will at the very least cost thousands, and at worst causes irreparable damage also known as death. The first time i drove was in a huge empty parking lot, with no obstacles. My dad got me into the drivers seat, and i held onto the steering wheel for dear life. My dad put the car in drive, 'cause there was no way in tarnation i was going to let go of that wheel. He said "Why don't you take your foot of the brake?" I squeaked "Because then the car will start moving." A few days later i did eventually get my foot off the brake. The first time the car moved i completely freaked - started weeping so badly i couldn't see. Yup, i was making real progress. My hands would be sore for days after driving from holding the steering wheel so hard i would lose circulation in my fingers. My parents realized that all they'd had to do to cure me of slouching was put me in the driver's seat of a car. They had to threaten to stop my horse-back riding lessons to get me to put my foot on the acceleration pedal, but i refused to go above 15 miles an hour. Although i got my permit when i turned fifteen, i didn't get my full license until my brother had also learned to drive (i was nearly eighteen). Dad kept having to go off on deployments, and though Mom tried, she had enough to deal with without my hysterics. I did manage to learn to drive, and am even comfortable enough that my knuckles stay a nice fleshy colour and my heart is content to plod along normally and my stomache pretends that it's much more comfortable in my abdomen than in my esophagus. But... More than that, a car means i am never going back - that my parent's home is no longer mine, that there is a line drawn between my money and theirs, between my books and my brothers, between my clothes and my mom's. Just like the last time Dad came back from deployment, and he was no longer simply my dad but also a man with faults and irritating habits... My relationship with my family is evolving. And while i know it's necessary, and normal, and probably healthy, it's also awkward and uncomfortable and painful. My brothers are no longer little brats but young men; taller than i, tanner and fitter, and with gorgeous baritone voices. My mom is still my mom, but also a gorgeous lady with a complexion that anyone would envy. A car is one more sign that while they are still and will always be my parents, yet i am also become their equal and must begin to take an equal share in the responsibilities of adulthood. And i think it sucks. Bigtime. So. I have a car!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!