So I saw a disturbing thing on TV yesterday. No, not the inherent absurdity of watching Sharon Osbourn and the Hoff judging America's talent. That's more amusing than disturbing.
No, I saw a back to school commercial. Those are always depressing. It means summer is winding down. Not that I'm going back to school or anything. Nor am I on summer break. In fact summer ending has no real effect on me at all. And Fall is probably my favorite time of the year. Baseball playoffs, football season, new episodes of that one caveman show. What? It was canceled? DAMN IT!
By the way, it's a little bit sad that I gauge my quality of life on the variety of original TV content. But admit it, you get excited when you see ALL NEW promos, don't you? You do, it's ok. No need to impress me. Hell, I've had a blog for less than a week and so far I have paid loving tribute to Top Gun, Karate Kid and The Golden Girls. This is not a high brow forum.
Anyway, something about seeing commercials with smiling children wearing new JC Penny pants and fresh smelling Trapper Keepers (you know exactly what they smell like, don't you?) brings up the sense memory of looming dread. I am eleven, and I suddenly realize that my endless summer of freedom had been frittered away (one of my mom's favorite phrases) on The Price Is Right, Spaghettio's and mowing the Bereksin's lawn. I hadn't lifted lots of weights and become a pre-season All American tight end like I had planned. I didn't bump into that one hot chick while swimming at the tennis club and had torrid summer love affair like I had planned. Instead I played Nintendo in Steve Earl's basement.
Now, that's not to say I didn't have fantastic summers growing up. I certainly did and continue to have them. But there's something about seeing Mervynn's advertise their Cambridge Classic Sale that makes it all seem so temporary, whether you're eleven or thirty.