(A Post I meant to post the beginning of June, but never got around to…)
For those of you who know me, you also know I’ve been scavenging for idle intervals in my day to catch-up, kick-back, and get a little sun kissed with my close buds. But it’s a continuing struggle for me because like many students my age, I’ve picked up an internship. I speculate the good outweighs the bad. But, the brutality of responsibility and city commutes is really beginning to get to the best of me.
A couple days following my return from Champaign my mom roasted me with questions about my job; what it’ll be like, my hours, the commute, pay— the usual. After the continuous drilling I began to feel uneasy; she was essentially scrutinizing me about it. Isn’t she supposed be proud that at least I’m motivated, and have actually taken the initiative to find a job, which has landed me a pretty great internship? But I came to realize that her scrutiny wasn’t of a cynic, it was really just of a mother. She told me I really was still a kid and for me to begin working long-hours in such a corporate environment suddenly just felt like too much too soon—especially in the summertime. I dismissed her concern and instead, got defensive, arguing that I was an adult, I live on my own at school so therefore that entitles me to do what I want. And working is not an unreasonable request, in fact, it wasn’t a request at all, it was taking up a responsibility which she should be supportive of. Ha-ha, clearly I missed her entire point and went on tangent about nonsensical things.
Last Monday, I started my internship at Flowers Communication Group, a Marketing and Public Relations Firm right in the core of the city. A block east of the Magnificent Mile, and overlooking the Chicago River. The city glitters outside my 10th floor window. But the million dollar view meant waking up at 6:30 am, catching the 7:12am train, arriving to the city at 8:18, rushing to the CTA stop to get the bus, just to arrive to 303 E. Wacker the sliver of 9 o’clock, and basically working an 8 hour day. On Thursday, on my Metra-ride home after an unmistakably long week at FCG, I started thinking about coming weeks. What my mom said really began to resonate. Is this what my summer is going to be like? Despite loving the job, my fellow interns and the place in general, I felt a wave of discouragement coming over me questioning whether the “experience” was even the worth it at the expense of my Summer. Perhaps I have cold feet because this was my first week, and I haven’t really let the idea of working in the city quite seep into my nerves yet because I’ve been on Cloud 9 about the idea for so long now.
The ambiguous nature of summer is the essence of the season. The unevenness of each passing day of summer has a charm. I wasn’t certain if I was quite ready to submit my summer to uniformity. My summers for the past 19 years have been colorful, enticing. In retrospect, each of passing summers has had its own character, its own defining moments, rituals, and memories. The heat, chaos, and excitement of summer has left a beautiful stain in my mind. Summer is a universal happiness.
I’m seeing the city through a completely different lense. I see it as a commuter now. I see it as an adult. Do I want to begin seeing things as an adult just yet? Do I want Summer to be just like the other 3 working seasons? Summer is a time for healing, relaxation, rejuvenation. And, it seems we only have those utilities up until our adult years. The lesson woven into all the jargon you’ve just read is the motherly instinct is unflawed. All comes with good time—so don’t beat yourself up about things right now. You will graduate, you will find a job, you will get married and have children if that is part of your ambition. Take it easy, and seize the day. We really are just kids (well most of us).