September Rolls Through..
When I was a much younger man, and even when I was a little boy, May was my favorite month of the 12 months that would etch a year of my life away when combined together. May was the month that the best-looking and biggest Hollywood movies were released and in the midst of the Star Wars Prequels, nothing was more important to me than these expensive and generally hollow movies. The month of May also meant the end of school and the culmination of Spring. May meant Memorial Day and Summer Vacation. May meant baseball getting into its groove as the pitchers were as loose as they could get. May meant the possibility of spontaneous road trips and the planning of week long vacations to somewhere that young girls would be wearing bikinis. In fact, now that I'm writing about May, not only is it easy to understand why it was my favorite month but suddenly it is difficult to make the case for my favorite month as a grown-ass man being September. But it is.
Most of the things I wrote in the above paragraph are no longer things that are important to me. As a youthful-looking, wise-beyond-his-years adult approaching (albeit slowly) forty, the things that meant so much to me when my priorities and responsibilities were less depressing can't possibly mean much to me now and likely never will again.
The Summer tentpole movie? If it isn't part of the MCU, I just don't care and I can't make myself care. I have Netflix and HBO and illegal streaming that allows me to watch any Summer tentpole without having to leave my house, spend at least $30 and sit in close proximity to people that probably have gross, contagious diseases and people that will definitely talk through the movie. Even though the Star Wars Sequels are in full swing, getting to the movie theater to see the competition for the Saga is a waste of time.
I graduated college over a decade ago so getting excited about the end of a semester is no longer a feeling I can relate to, or remember. The end of school actually has the opposite effect on me these days. As much as I love my stepson, that he can get on a school bus and go to get an education for the morning and most of the afternoon is something I might love equally. I also love being able to relax with no responsibilities while he is off getting his education. As far as the culmination of Spring, warm and hot weather doesn't mean as much as it used to (obviously nothing to do with that liberal conspiracy of global warming). There weren't as many insects (again this is likely due to anything except global warming) and I didn't get a sunburn on\ my arm via the car window while driving to work (just to reiterate: NOT global warming, just the sun shining brighter with God's love for Donald Trump).
Instead of all these things that I used to love about May, I have grown to appreciate the opposite about September. I can't sit through a baseball game anymore. I don't have time to sit through one even if I could sit through one. If I was to watch a baseball game, which I wouldn't, but if I would (though to be clear, I wouldn't and won't), I would much rather watch a September baseball game, The September game is a game that means something to the teams involved, as opposed to the 28th of 128 games, which can't possibly mean much.
Although I no longer go to school, the privilege of watching my stepson and my wife go off to school gives me a feeling of hope.
Feeling the weather as it gets cooler from the muggy, choking, stinky heat of Summer (once more, just a natural cycle of hot weather over the last 15-20 years and NOT the hoax that is Global Warming), and stepping out into the evening wearing a long sleeve or a sweat-shirt are physical experiences that makes me feel absolutely alive and wonderful.
I can't take a spontaneous road trip without my wife thinking I'm having an affair. I can't plan a vacation unless I can pay for at least three people to go on the vacation, and if I could, it is doubtful that I would enjoy the young girls in bikinis as much with my wife and stepson hanging around.
Summer is for young people: kids, teenagers, college kids with no responsibilities and living with the assumption that they are entitled to specific first-world, upper-class income experiences that 90% of the world will never experience. Summer is for bikinis and getting intelligent girls drunk. Summer is for streaking and pool hopping. Summer is for using up fuel and gasoline, so much so that The United States will never be able to quit Big Oil. Summer is for watching the Sunrise drunk and BBQing with co-workers. Summer is for cheating on your girlfriend or boyfriend. Summer is for spending a week with your poor mother and doing all you can to ignore her the rest of the season.
All of that sounds amazing, really, but if I look myself in the mirror and I really start to plot out how I will escape from my house and my responsibilities. I come up empty. If I consider how I will travel to South Beach with the good car and all my savings without worrying about my family being able to pay the bills, I end up worrying more. If I scheme how I could bring my mobile device on my trip without having to worry about my wife or my mother calling, I start to think that I'd want to be able to get in touch with them anyway. So what's the point?
Just as youth is wasted on the young, May and all the sexual shenanigans, all the high-budget mind-numbing motion pictures, all the plans for lunch, and all the parties that feed into youthful youngness are wasted on stupid fucking kids that don't appreciate it at the moment and won't appreciate it later on in life.
September is for grown-ass men; men that take care of their responsibilities; men that do the right thing not because it's the right thing but because they are too old to do what they want to do. Grown-ass men enjoy September because the NFL returns and it's something to do on Sundays. Grown-ass men enjoy September because mowing the lawn isn't such a sweat-inducing, uncomfortable experience. Grown-ass men enjoy September because everything gets quiet and people leave them alone just a little- just enough to sit back and remember a time when their favorite time of year was May; a time when getting drunk, getting laid, sleeping late, and eating whatever the fuck they wanted was all life was.