August is by far the worst month of the year. I've thought this every August of my existence, and I started saying it out loud at least twenty years ago. Some people like to remind me of some "positive" things about this month (like the birthdays that fall in August), expecting me to retract my statement, but I never do. My own birthday is in March, and I'm not that fond of that month either. August birthdays are fine, and I bet some fun partying happens when those birthdays come along, but all I can think of is those who have gone before me and given birth in August and my hatred is reinforced on their behalf. Why do I hate August so much, you ask? Because it's so...August.
There are very few redeeming qualities about August; in fact, I'm having trouble thinking of one. Well, school supply shopping can be fun. For me, August has always marked the end of life-giving things like vacation and breathable air. August in New York is better than August in Texas -- I will say that. The soul-killing heat only comes sporadically, and it only truly kills my soul when people on the subway forget about August-blockers like showering and deodorant. But still, even in New York I can feel August closing in on the population like an planet-sized greenhouse. It is when Mother Nature takes her own vacation and forgets to turn off the heater before leaving the house. Everything is stagnant and parching, and yet we all go about our business as if life is still good.
There are two sides to my August coin this year. As I said before, August in New York is better. 1. because it is New York and 2. because it rains here. In fact, the other night as Bliss and I returned home from a neighborhood pub, it was raining so hard that I had to remove my shoes and wade barefoot through the streets of Brooklyn. By the time we got to the apartment, my teeth were chattering. In August. Some of you might think, "well then what the hell is there to complain about? We're on day 4392 of 100 degree weather." I anticipated this response, and you're right. There's nothing to complain about. Except that it's August, and complaining is what I spend this month doing.
On the other side of the aforementioned coin, August 2011 is sucking the life out of me just as vehemently as every year before because in addition to time standing still and the maddening heat, nearly all of the people I love are far far away from me. That's right; I'm in full-fledged withdrawal from the people I left behind. Or at least the ones I really like. Was my decision to move here a mistake? Of course not -- the opposite is true. But when a crappy month like August comes along, it's increasingly difficult to notice the wonderment of the city around you and all the easier to look at surrounding strangers with disdain. Amidst all the fabulous food, bookstores, architecture and music, there are people. An abundance of people. People that I don't know and therefore cannot share my animosity toward August with. Just the other day I was standing on the subway platform waiting for the train and sweating through my cardigan. Looking up, I attempted to share a knowing look with a nearby stranger, and this person avoided eye contact. This happens everyday, and I do it myself everyday, but because it's August and I can't think straight long enough to remember social cues, it really bugged me. "Well that's just fine," I thought as I moved away from the stranger's excess body heat. And it hit me. At that moment, I would have traded an August in Texas for a hug from one of the children from my class. I realize it might be difficult from the outside of my head to see the connection between these two things, but something clicked then, and I missed my kids so much that it was hard to breathe. The hot, underground air didn't help of course, and I added "unbearable separation from those I love" to my anti-August list.
I'm ready for September. I do recognize that September is often just as stifling as August, but at least by then there's hope for relief from hell's flames. September seems to encourage us with a "hey. There there. I know it's still hot, but it'll be over soon. Why don't you watch a football game or pick an apple to take your mind off things?" August just hits me in the face everyday and sends the clear message: "it is hot, and it always will be. Let me prove it by killing all your plants." And this year it has expanded the message to include: "and on that note, the holidays will never arrive, and heat stroke will befall you before you get to see the people you love."
I'm mad because it's August. I'm sad because I miss my friends and family (big and little). I still heart NY, but I heart you all, too. Have a snow cone and know that you're missed.
There are very few redeeming qualities about August; in fact, I'm having trouble thinking of one. Well, school supply shopping can be fun. For me, August has always marked the end of life-giving things like vacation and breathable air. August in New York is better than August in Texas -- I will say that. The soul-killing heat only comes sporadically, and it only truly kills my soul when people on the subway forget about August-blockers like showering and deodorant. But still, even in New York I can feel August closing in on the population like an planet-sized greenhouse. It is when Mother Nature takes her own vacation and forgets to turn off the heater before leaving the house. Everything is stagnant and parching, and yet we all go about our business as if life is still good.
There are two sides to my August coin this year. As I said before, August in New York is better. 1. because it is New York and 2. because it rains here. In fact, the other night as Bliss and I returned home from a neighborhood pub, it was raining so hard that I had to remove my shoes and wade barefoot through the streets of Brooklyn. By the time we got to the apartment, my teeth were chattering. In August. Some of you might think, "well then what the hell is there to complain about? We're on day 4392 of 100 degree weather." I anticipated this response, and you're right. There's nothing to complain about. Except that it's August, and complaining is what I spend this month doing.
On the other side of the aforementioned coin, August 2011 is sucking the life out of me just as vehemently as every year before because in addition to time standing still and the maddening heat, nearly all of the people I love are far far away from me. That's right; I'm in full-fledged withdrawal from the people I left behind. Or at least the ones I really like. Was my decision to move here a mistake? Of course not -- the opposite is true. But when a crappy month like August comes along, it's increasingly difficult to notice the wonderment of the city around you and all the easier to look at surrounding strangers with disdain. Amidst all the fabulous food, bookstores, architecture and music, there are people. An abundance of people. People that I don't know and therefore cannot share my animosity toward August with. Just the other day I was standing on the subway platform waiting for the train and sweating through my cardigan. Looking up, I attempted to share a knowing look with a nearby stranger, and this person avoided eye contact. This happens everyday, and I do it myself everyday, but because it's August and I can't think straight long enough to remember social cues, it really bugged me. "Well that's just fine," I thought as I moved away from the stranger's excess body heat. And it hit me. At that moment, I would have traded an August in Texas for a hug from one of the children from my class. I realize it might be difficult from the outside of my head to see the connection between these two things, but something clicked then, and I missed my kids so much that it was hard to breathe. The hot, underground air didn't help of course, and I added "unbearable separation from those I love" to my anti-August list.
I'm ready for September. I do recognize that September is often just as stifling as August, but at least by then there's hope for relief from hell's flames. September seems to encourage us with a "hey. There there. I know it's still hot, but it'll be over soon. Why don't you watch a football game or pick an apple to take your mind off things?" August just hits me in the face everyday and sends the clear message: "it is hot, and it always will be. Let me prove it by killing all your plants." And this year it has expanded the message to include: "and on that note, the holidays will never arrive, and heat stroke will befall you before you get to see the people you love."
I'm mad because it's August. I'm sad because I miss my friends and family (big and little). I still heart NY, but I heart you all, too. Have a snow cone and know that you're missed.
Awe, Tracey, you are missed too!
ReplyDeleteTwo more weeks, and you will be experiencing the "real fall" like never before... Truly magical!
I agree, August is BLAH & YUCK!! Know that you truly are missed & loved by those of us left behind in "hotter-than-hell" Texas!! Especially will you be missed on Monday morning when Owen & I will be looking for the fabulous Tracey hug we've had for the last 3 years!! :( However, September does bring new hope & it will be AMAZING for you!!
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