Summer of Love

Today, on this first official day of Summer (with a capital S) I learned that no one is hiring. And I mean, NO ONE IS HIRING. Every job posting is a joke and a taunt, and I truly believe that they’re ALL fake. Or the job is already taken. This is definitely the worst time to look for a job because everyone’s brain is on temporary vacation until after Labor Day. I’m actually OK with that, but what about afterwards?

Today really was a beautiful day.

I thought about moving forward and moving backwards. I thought about how far ahead of the game I used to be, and how I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get there. But then, somewhere along the way I fell behind, terribly behind, and have used the past year to catch up on the last 5 years that I lost out on, career-wise. Figuring out what you love and what-you’re-meant-to-do-for-the-rest-of-your life is utterly exhausting, and soul crushing and every other life-crushing metaphor you can conjure up. Everybody seemed to have kept moving during those 5 years, but not me. I was happy where I was, at the time until I wasn’t, having missed out on actually enjoying my standing-still time because of my own perfectionist tendencies and academic endeavors. I finally got my chance to be a fuck-up for a while. And it was the best thing I could have ever done, for me.

I got my body tattooed, explored New York City’s farthest reaches and darkest corners, met the most interesting and fucked-up people, spoke to anybody that I could anywhere I could, spent a lot of money, made a lot of money, explored the depths of my sexuality and along the way, fell in love, and I finally discovered what I wanted. Which, funny enough, lead me right back to where I started.

I guess everything is cyclical.

I’m happy to continue on and reach farther and ignore the fact that I fell behind because I gained more than I ever could have in retrospect, if I had followed the traditional path. I think about how miserable I would have been if I didn’t pull over to the side of the road for the while and decide to hitch a ride. Granted it’s not the safest thing in the world, but it sure as hell was fun.

Now, let’s all head to the beach.

Taryn

How I love summer! How I live for it!

How has this been the worst summer of my life? Pause for dramatic effect and dramatic statement.

For as long as I can remember, well, since age 16 if memory serves, summer has made me cry. It has left me heartbroken and longing, longing for something I could not have or it was a love/puppy love that left me and broke my heart in which circumstances did not allow love and I to be together. This summer did not disappoint and unfortunately did not break trend. Basically what I am saying is, is that I have had my heart broken every summer since age 16. I don’t know what it is about the summer that makes love sour and then leaves it for dead. I always thought it was called the “Summer of Love” for a reason but then I think my summers flow more along the lines to Lana Del Rey’s “Summertime Sadness”:

I’ve got that summertime, summertime sadness
S-s-summertime, summertime sadness
Got that summertime, summertime sadness
Oh, oh oh oh

And so it goes. That is how I feel on my bad days and even on my good summer days if something goes even slightly wrong or I am forced to leave the beach and drag my tan body and sandy feet all the way into the job that I hate with a fiery passion. I have had to leave the beach many times before and have been through terrible heartache during the summer but this summer will stand out in my mind. I have been to the beach only a handful of times. And as a person who lives for the ocean sounds and the sand in, on and around my feet, not going to the beach has killed my soul or should I say rather that it has injured it and left it barely hanging in there on life support. The beach is where I replenish my soul, get daily multi-vitamin, if you will, and I have been severely lacking it that I feel like my skin is turning yellow. Perhaps the lack of beach summer fun is perpetuating my heartbreak, my loneliness and my confusion with life and how it should be lived. It goes back to my “analysis paralysis”. I don’t know if my Uncle coined the term but he diagnosed me with this paralysis, which he described as over analyzing life and situations thus leaving you paralyzed, unable to make a concrete decision. The beach has and always will anesthetize my over-analysis and soothe my life ache.

The beach is my great equalizer. I still have some time before the fall arrives to get my daily requirement and save up a little for the fall.

The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keeping on like a bird that flew
Tangled up in blue.

~Bob Dylan, “Tangled Up In Blue”

Taryn

Taryn's Turn Nyc

Inside the confusing, beautiful and often chaotic and crazy mind of a 20-something New York City girl.

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