Within what seems like minutes I'm no longer downing my coffee in an iced variety, wearing short sleeved shirts, or trying to find spare time to hop in the pool. I'm hoping for an Indian-esque summer relapse at some point in September, but all signs point to it being over. I don't even really have any feelings on it ending (but that's not going to stop me from talking about it, obviously). Parts of me feel like it's just started. Other parts of me don't really even remember the seasons in between this summer and last. It's hard to form opinions on periods of time that seem to pass by so fast that I barely remember them. I remember once discussing the "man, time flies" feeling that I know a lot of people my age feel. I don't even remember who I was talking to, but the suggestion was made that time seems to feel like it's going faster as we get older because as each year goes on, 365 days makes up less of a percentage of your overall life. When I was 15, the year 1996 made up 1/15th, or 7% of my life. At 25, though, 2006 will take up 1/25th, or 4% of my life. When being nostalgiac, or introspective about the past year in 2006, it has to contend with more years than when I did that in 1996, which makes it seem less significant.

Gobbledy, bloggedy, blech. I don't really know what I'm talking about. It just seems strange to me that as each season vanishes I feel no more accomplished for having lived it than I did prior to it starting. ((Wake, work, eat/drink, sleep)*5+ (wake, fail at doing ten million things I'd like get done during my free time, eat/drink, sleep)*2). There are exceptions, of course. I enjoy myself quite often. But it just seems to fade away much faster now, buried quickly under the first half of that equation, the one that consists of my Monday-Fridays. ***

With that said, Fall is my favorite season. So, despite the fact that moths ate most of my good sweaters over the summer, I'm kinda hopeful that maybe this season will be more significant than most of the recent ones have been.