The sounds of waves crashing and seagulls squawking fill my ears as I sit with my eyes closed. I feel a warmth sweep across my legs. I sit lazily reclined in my chair.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I’m rustled out of my state by a screeching noise. It must be the ice cream man!
BEEP. BEEP. BOOP. BOP.
What in the…I open my eyes and realize that I am not on the beach. I am at my desk trying to find the answers to mental peace on the back of my eyelids.
That incessant beeping is not the slightly creepy middle-aged man that lures children to his ice cream truck, it is the industrial-sized printer screaming at me to put in a ream of paper.
And the warm feeling that had tickled my leg was actually a heater that my desk mate had turned on because the air is perpetually 10 degrees too cold.
It’s a Sunday, a terribly unfortunate day to be working, and I am one of the handfuls of people selected to sit inside making sure everyone’s marketing needs are taken care of.
I am in no way sour about the opportunity I was handed. I am getting paid to mess around with the adobe suite all summer while simultaneously being invited to parties that I feel extremely uncomfortable attending.
My soul is, however, slightly diminished by the idea that I have crossed into the part of my life where there is no such thing as summer vacation.
In short….I am old.
And if you are reading this, you most likely old too.
I have slowly faded into adulthood without even noticing.
I actually ENJOY time to myself. I reminisce on my first two years of college and think about the good old days. I go to sleep BEFORE Saturday night live is broadcast.
At the ripe age of 20 years old, I am taking on the characteristics of my beloved grandmother more than of than my peers. I seem to have mentally aged only a few years away from becoming a Republican and losing all hope in humanity.
My will to live has been stretched out as the resistance of the elastic waistband of a professional eaters’ sweats.
My only solace is in my hope that this switch has something to do with my current location, and is not permanent.
If you’re like me, hang in there…maybe go clubbing and order something the young people are getting these days, like a vodka red bull?
words & photo_olivia ginsberg