Summertime, and the wind is blowing outside

For the first time in a long time, I’m not just content. I’m—I’m optimistic. I don’t think I’ve looked forward to summer vacation this much since elementary school, back when summer still meant more fun instead of just less work. I remember looking forward to the neighborhood pools opening up, sleepovers at friends’ houses, day-long explorations of the woods behind my school’s soccer field, nighttime games of flashlight tag with the neighbors. In the same vein, I’m relieved that junior year and the RA gig are over with, but more than that, I’m legitimately excited about everything the next few months have to offer. I feel like I'm at the beginning of something, not the end.

I’m at home in Dallas right now, which is always great in small doses. I’m watching movies, reading for fun, catching up with the family, and making plans with a select few high school friends (because by now, other than that, what’s the point?). My bed is really, really comfortable; I’d almost forgotten. Next Wednesday, we’re heading up to Chicago for my cousin Eric’s wedding. I’m one of the groomsmen, so I’m just plain excited about getting to look all fancy in a tuxedo. Beyond that, though, Jones family get-togethers are always badass, on general principle. To people who don’t get me – spend ten minutes with this group, and you’ll understand why I am the way I am, and why I wouldn’t have it any other way. Cheesy, yes. Genuine, of course.

Two days after the wedding, I’m moving down to Austin. I’m staying with Sean, Joe, and Pad for the summer – anything’s better than the dorms, but this is a situation that I’m actually excited about, instead of one I can just live with (ba dum ching!). I’ve known all three of them since day one of freshman year, so I get the feeling that the four of us are going to have some good times together. A lot of my other friends are in Austin for the summer, as well. We’re finally all at the age (most of us incoming seniors, a few newly graduated, a few juniors) where we’re kind of expected to get jobs and apartments and to fend for ourselves. I’m cautiously optimistic that my birthday won’t suck this year, for a change. Plenty of people to hang out with, and plenty of time for it.

I have a job downtown at a nonprofit called the Fund for the Public Interest. I don’t know much about it, other than that I’ll be soliciting people for money and getting paid pretty well to do so. It’s a nine-to-five, meaning that I'm earning a constant and decent paycheck for the first time in my life. I do have rent to pay, after all. I even have to buy groceries, for Christ's sake. Beyond the job, what I do with my time is completely my own to decide. A friend of mine, Eric Welch, once made a joke that’s stuck with me: “I’d rather work at Wendy’s than go to school. Then, at least, I wouldn’t have to keep making chicken nuggets at home.” I’m feeling the same way – yeah, I have to get up early, and yeah, I’m working for eight hours straight, but once I get home, I don’t have to think about work again until I get there the next morning. You know those precious nights where you finish all of your homework well before dinner? Picture that, except every single night. I’m uncomfortably close to being an adult.

And it’s this free time with my friends that I’m looking forward to, more than anything else. I feel like I’m finally getting a taste of real life, now that every ounce of my time isn’t being consumed by homework or resume-enhancing extracurriculars or the dread that a resident is going to pound on my door the second after I’ve pressed “play” on the DVD player. I’m finally free to do what I want to do, whether it’s a day at Barton Springs or a night at home watching a South Park marathon on Comedy Central. It’s my choice, though, made independently of curfews or homework or external expectations. I feel like my real life is finally beginning (shoutout to the Colin Hay song). Here’s hoping that ten years from now, I remember the summer of 2009 not as the limbo between junior and senior year, but as the first time I stood on my own two feet.